Officer. Not a Cab to be had all over London!
Indignant Gentleman (whom the unhappy passengers have already begun to look up to, so imposing is his manner). Here's a pretty state of things—the blackguards! But they're punishable. They're bound to ply for hire—it's illegal.
Officer. Can't say, Sir. But they've done it, any way.
[Indignant Gentleman delivers a withering Philippic against the Executive in general, and Mr. Fitzroy in particular, which is respectfully received by the Passengers, but does not excite much attention from the Railway Officials, whom he threatens violently with damages to a large amount. The Unprotected Female, who has heard the preceding dialogue, seems stupefied. She has not uttered even a cry or an exclamation, but sits helpless and hopeless, amidst a barricade of her luggage.
Practical Man (who has hitherto said nothing, but heard everything,—to a Porter.) Can I get a man to carry my luggage?
1st Porter. We'll carry on it all outside the Station, Sir; there's men there—
2nd Porter (shouldering a mountain of Portmanteaus). And wehicles—
3rd Porter (upheaving a similar load, and half to himself). Sich as they is.
[The Porters have by this time arrived at the luggage of The Unprotected, who still sits as if crushed by the blow.
Cheery Porter. Now, Marm; jest sit up off the trunk, will ye—