"It's too much."
"Reg'lar price."
"I don't believe it. Here, you other chap," beckoning to another cabman, "what'll you charge to take me to the St. George Tavern?"
This brought the first cabby to terms.
"Jump in, sir. I'll take you round for two shillin's," he said.
"All right," said Jonathan. "I'll help you with that chist. Now put her over the road. I'm hungry, and want some vittles."
Five minutes after Frank arrived at the St. George with his guardian, Mr. Tarbox drove up, bag and baggage.
"You see I'm here most as soon as you," said Tarbox, nodding. "We ain't separated yet. It's a pooty nice tavern, Mr. Sharpley," accosting Frank's guardian with easy forgetfulness of the latter's repellant manner.
"What is your object in following us, sir?" asked Sharpley, frigidly.