"Pardon me, madam," interposed the old gentleman softly; "I have already explained that you must not reckon with me, having these five years no certain knowledge if my legs be still my own."
At this point the coachman broke in with a gruff voice. "We must be going," says he, "or maybe we shall have further trouble ere Belbury."
"Heavens! would they flay us?" asked the old gentleman, lifting his eyebrows. "I assure you, I have nothing beyond my skin and two very incompetent legs."
That set me laughing, for the old cock tickled me.
"Faith," says I, "here is a philosopher."
Whereupon, like a pistol-shot, madam turns upon me in a fury. "And who are you, sir, that dares mock at our misfortunes?" she cried angrily. "Who are you, that comes swelling with fine feathers and a cock-a-doodle-doo about assistance? Oh, were there stuff enough within the four walls of this carriage, some one should fetch you a clout for your impertinence! I was a fool to have ventured in this company—a fool not to have taken my Lord Kerslake's offer of a seat."
The old gentleman looked amused, and glanced whimsically at me; but, sure, I liked her spirit, though I made answer mockingly.
"Faith, gentlemen," says I, "you have here spirit enough to arm a regiment. I crave your ladyship's pardon; I am of a round and jocund temper, and can scarce keep my teeth inside my lips; I should grin upon a tombstone. But as for your misfortunes, rot me, but they touch me nearly; and, had the opportunity fallen, I should ha' been proud to draw a skewer for you."