“I wish she may,” said the little man, rather tartly, “but it’s hard to suit the sex;”—and, as if to confirm the sentence, the coach, after proceeding about a mile, came again to a full stop.
“I’m very sorry, gentlemen,” said the coachman, with a touch of his hat, as be looked in at the window, “but she won’t do in front!”
“Just like ’em!” muttered the little man, “the devil himself can’t please a woman.”
“I should think,” suggested the stout man, “if you were to give her the box seat, with your arm well round her waist.”
“No, I’ve tried that,” said the coachman, shaking his head; “it did pretty well over the level, but we’re coming on a hill, and she can’t face it.”
“Set her down at once, bag and baggage,” said the little man; “I’ve an appointment at one.”
“And for my part,” said a gentleman in black, “if there’s any delay, I give you legal notice I shall hire a chaise at the expense of the coach proprietors.”
“That’s just it, curse her,” said the perplexed coachman, deliberately taking off his hat, that he might have a scratch at his head; “she’s had her pick, outside and in, back and front, and it’s no use of course to propose to her to sit astride on the pole.”
“Oh Eve! Eve! Eve!” exclaimed the little man, who seemed to owe the sex some peculiar grudge.