‘I can’t remember, it’s so long ago,’ said the stepfather. ‘No, not Richmond, if you please, Car; it’s pretty, but it’s cockney. Sunday excursions spoil all the places about London.’
‘Windsor? One would still have the river within reach, and rides in the forest without end.’
‘Windsor still less, Carry my love. It’s a show place. Royal persons always coming and going, and crowds to stare at them. If you love me, no.’
‘That’s a large argument, Edward. We should not live in the town, of course, and to see the Queen driving about would always be a little excitement.’
‘Does she drive in a big umbrella like the gentlemen upon the omnibus?’ said Janet, whose eyes had been caught by that wonder. Tom had seen it too, and was full of curiosity, but kept his eye upon Beaufort to see whether he would laugh at the question.
‘Much grander, with gold fringe and a little royal standard flying from the top,’ said Beaufort gravely. ‘You know the Doge at Venice always had an umbrella, and other great princes.’
Tom stared very steadily, with his big, round eyes, to watch for the suspicion of a smile, but, seeing none, ventured, with a little suppressed doubt and defiance of the possibly ‘humbugging’ answer, ‘Who are the men on the omnibuses? They can’t all be princes; they’re just like cochers,’ cried Tom.
‘Don’t you trust to appearances, my boy. Did you never hear that the greatest swells drove mail coaches? Not Windsor, Car, not Windsor.’
‘Surrey, Edward? Guildford, Haslemere, Dorking—somewhere in that direction?’
‘At Dorking we should be in the way of the battle, Tom.’