"I'm sorry, sir," said he, "but I've already engaged to carry this lady and gentleman to the Half Moon."
The young man was very big of chest and square of face; he had a curt manner, and an eye that was good-humored rather than otherwise; but it was plain that he was not the sort of person to permit himself to be inconvenienced by any foolish notion of precedence. He looked at the old man and then at the girl; and his laugh showed his fine teeth.
"Pick up those bags and let us have no more words about it," said he to the carter. "This gentleman is much too old to be in the haste I am, and the lady," with a nod of his handsome head, and a smile, "much too beautiful to worry about a moment more or less."
"It may be," said the pacific carrier, "that I can carry you all. The cart is large, as you see, and—"
The hectoring young man smiled good-humoredly, and threw his saddle-bags into the conveyance.
"Now," commanded he, "in with you, before I take you by the neck."
Overpowered by the assurance of the other, the man was about to do as bidden; but the girl came forward, spiritedly.
"Monsieur," she said, "the conveyance is ours. I am very sorry, but you'll have to look elsewhere—or await the man's return."
"Await!" The big man smiled at her good-humoredly. "Dear lady, you don't know what you are saying. I never wait for anything. And just now I'm so sick of that accursed packet's food that I'm in all haste to get something fit for the human palate. So bear with me, I beg of you." With a push of the hand he threw the carter against the wheel of his cart. "Up with you!" laughed he. "Are you going to keep me here all day?"
The carter climbed to his seat and took the reins; the big young man was about to follow him when the girl spoke once more, her fine eyes full of indignation.