CORNER OF A STAGE COACH
'Miss Hazel!—Dear Miss Hazel!—Dear me, Miss Hazel!—here's the morning, ma'am,—and Gotham, and Mr. Falkirk!'
So far the young eyes unclosed as to see that they could see nothing—unless the flame of a wind-tossed candle,—then with a disapproving frown they closed again.
'But Miss Hazel?' remonstrated Mrs. Saddler.
'Well?' said Wych Hazel with closed eyes.
'Mr. Falkirk's dressed, ma'am.'
'What is it to me if Mr. Falkirk chooses to get up over night?'
'But the stage, ma'am!'
'The stage can wait.'
'The stage won't, Miss Hazel,' said Mrs. Saddler, earnestly. 'And Gotham says it's only a question of time whether we can catch it now.'