John's face coloured. "I beg your pardon," he said in confusion. "I didn't mean to be inquisitive!"
"That's awright. No need to 'pologise. I can see you down't mean no 'arm!" His manner relaxed a little, as if he would atone to John for his former surliness. "That's the 'Orns," he said, pointing to a large public-house. "Well-known 'ouse, that is. Best known 'ouse in Sahth London, that is. Bert ... that's the conductor ... 'e says the White 'Orse at Brixton is better-known, an' I know a chep wot says the Elephant an' Castle is!..."
"It's mentioned in Shakespeare," John eagerly interrupted.
"Wot is?"
"The Elephant and Castle. In Twelfth Night. My Uncle, who knew Shakespeare by heart, told me about it. It was a public-house in those days, too. But I never heard of the Horns!"
The 'bus-driver was impressed by this statement, but he would not lightly yield in the argument. "Of course," he said, "The Elephant my 'ave been well-known in them dys, and I don't sy it ain't well-known in these dys, but I do sy thet it ain't so well-known now as wot the 'Orns is. There ain't a music-'all chep in London wot down't know the 'Orns. Not one!"
"Shakespeare didn't know it," John exclaimed.
"Well, 'e didn't know everythink did 'e?" the driver retorted. "P'raps the 'Orns wasn't built then. I dessay not. 'E'd 'ave mentioned it if 'e'd 'ave known abaht it. All these actor cheps know it, so of course 'e'd 'a' known abaht it, too. We'll be at the Elephant presently. I always sy to Bert we 'ave the most interestin' pubs in London on this route, White 'Orse, the 'Orns, the Elephant an' the Ayngel. Ever 'eard of the Ayngel at Islington?"
"Yes," said John, "That's where Paine wrote The Rights of Man."
"Did 'e?" the driver answered. "Well, I dessay 'e did. It's a celebrated 'ouse, it is. Celebrated in 'istory. There's a song abaht it. You know it, down't you!...