The curtains shook a little mite and then, from behind 'em, sounded a voice, a man's voice, but kind of shrill and high, and with a quiver in the middle of it.
"Are you sure this is the right place, driver?" it says.
"Sartin sure. This is it."
"But are you certain those animals are perfectly safe? They won't run away?"
The horses was takin' a nap, the two of 'em. Sim grinned, wider'n ever, and winks up at the window.
"I'll do my best to hold 'em," he says. "If I'd known you was comin' I'd have fetched an anchor."
The curtains shook some more, as if the feller inside was fidgetin' with 'em. Then the voice says again and more excited than ever, "Well, why in Heaven's name don't you unfasten this dreadful door? How am I to get out?"
Simeon stood grinnin', ripped a remark loose under his breath, jumped from the seat, and yanked the door open. There was a full half minute afore anything happened. Then out from that wagon door popped a black felt hat with a brim like a small-sized umbrella. Under the hat was a pair of thin, grayish side-whiskers, a long nose, and a pair of specs like full moons. The hat and the rest of it turned towards the horses and the voice says:
"You're perfectly sure of those creatures you are drivin'? Very good. Where is the step? Oh, dear! where is the step?"
Sim reached in, grabbed a little foot with one of them things they call a "gaiter" on it, hauled it down and planted it on the step of the carriage.