"Ay, ay, Joe?"
"Gentleman's walise for the boot, Valter; and sharp's the vord!"
"Ay, ay, Joe!" and, as he spoke, the guard caught the valise from the protesting small gentleman with one hand, and the hat-box with the other, and, forthwith, vanished. Hereupon the fussy gentleman, redder of face, and more angry than ever, clambered to the roof, still loudly protesting; all of which seemed entirely lost upon Mottle-face, who, taking up the reins and settling his feet against the dash-board, winked a solemn, owl-like eye at Barnabas sitting beside him, and carolled a song in a husky voice, frequently interrupting himself to admonish the ostlers, in this wise:—
"She vore no 'at upon 'er 'ead,
Nor a cap, nor a—"
"Bear the 'Markis' up werry short, Sam, vill 'ee?
"—dandy bonnet, But 'er 'air it 'ung all down 'er back, Like a—"
"Easy—easy now! Hold on to them leaders, Dick!
"—bunch of carrots upon it.
Ven she cried 'sprats' in Vestminister,
Oh! sich a sveet loud woice, sir,
You could 'ear 'er all up Parlyment Street,
And as far as Charing Cross, sir."
"All aboard, all aboard for London!" roars the guard, and roaring, swings himself up into the boot.
"All right be'ind?" cries Mottle-face.