"'And she shall have silks and satins for to wear,
And a coach and six for to take the air.'"
(I wonder what I shall find at the station: Flanagan, I suppose, with the 'speed hoss.' I'll walk, if it holds up a bit.)
"'And she shall drive in St. James's Square,
And no lady in the city shall with her compare—'"
"Oxcuse me, sair!"
Tom started, and turned in his seat, to behold a bearded and spectacled person of studious appearance, quivering with some strong emotion.
"I beg pardon?"
The gentleman's aspect relaxed slightly: Tom's speaking voice was of delightful quality, cordial and musical.
"Oxcuse me, sair!" the bearded one repeated. "I am a musician!"
Tom bowed slightly. "Awfully jolly, I'm sure!" he murmured. "Must be an interesting profession."