"How in thunder did it happen? It was bad driving, I expect."
"It was nothing of the kind. It was a steep hill, a dropped carriage pole, and a run. You could not expect the horses not to run. And of course the carriage went to pieces."
"Who was in it?"
"I was in it. The lady jumped out, just before the run began."
"Didn't you know enough to jump too?"
"I knew enough not to jump," said Mr. Southwode, laughing a little. "By that means I saved your horses."
"And I expect you want me to take that as pay for the carriage! and take your story too. But it was at your risk, sir—at your risk. When I sends out a team, without I sends a man with it, it's at the driver's risk, whoever he is. I expect you to make it good, sir. I can't afford no otherwise. The phaeton was in good order when it went out o' this yard; and I expect you to bring it back in good order, or stand the loss. My business wouldn't keep me, sir, on no other principles. You must make the damage good, if you're a gentleman or no gentleman."
"Take the best supposition, and let me have supper. If you will make that good, Mr. Landlord, you may add the phaeton to my bill."
"You'll pay it, I s'pose?" cried the anxious landlord, as his guest turned away.
"I always pay my bills," said Mr. Southwode, mounting the steps to the piazza. "Now Rotha, come and have something to eat."