Holdsworth, however, was by no means a sample of the “outsides” carried by the coach, whatever the deportment of the invisible “insides” might have been. There were some half-a-dozen people on the roof, including two girls, one of whom was decidedly pretty and the other decidedly coquettish. These young ladies, at the first going off, had been ceaseless in the expression of their fears that, though it was true they were up all right, they should never be able to get down again. A gentleman with a turn-up nose, expressive of the utmost self-complacency, had taken it upon himself to comfort the ladies, by remarking that getting down was in every case easier than getting up, because the natural tendency of the human body was to fall; at which the ladies had murmured “Impertinence!” and “Some people are better seen than heard,” and such-like scathing phrases, thereby sanctioning the display of such wit as the turn-up-nosed gentleman possessed, which he exerted with such good effect that the ladies grew crimson under uncontrollable fits of laughter. Then the guard struck in, and provoked the other outsiders to talk; and presently a large flat bottle was handed around, which had the effect of making everybody who put it to his or her lips merrier still. Onwards rattled the coach with its noisy, laughing burden, flinging sounds of life broadcast over the green country, provoking many a pair of slow bucolic eyes to stare it gravely out of sight, raising clouds of dust as the wheels went softly over the floury highway, spinning under mile-lengths of trees darkening the road with twinkling shadows, and throbbing with the piercing shrilling of innumerable birds buried in the dense foliage, catching the hot sunshine again in the open, and gleaming like a gigantic looking-glass as it sped gaily forward under the broad eye of Heaven.
It was two o’clock when they changed horses for the second time at a smart little Kentish town, with a gray ruin right in its midst, and an old church hard by it, with one of the snuggest of rectories peeping at the world out of the silence and shadow of a rich orchard. Some of the “insides” got out here and went their ways, and were no more seen. The young ladies on the roof were entreated to alight by the small-nosed man, but this they noisily refused to do, the mere idea of such a thing causing them to catch hold of each other. The delay, however, was a short one. The jaded horses, with streaks of white foam upon their polished hides, were taken out and fresh ones put in; the coachman, smelling strongly of gin and peppermint, climbed into his place, cracked his whip, and off started the coach, followed by a crowd of excited boys, who chased it clear of the town and then threw stones after it.
“Where might you be for, sir?” inquired the coachman of Holdsworth, speaking out of his stomach like a ventriloquist.
“Hanwitch.”
“Several stoppages afore Hanwitch,” said the coachman.
“How many?”
“Vy, there’s Saltwell, Halton, Gadstone, and Southbourne.”
“Southbourne?”
“Yes, Southbourne, of course. That’s the willage jist afore Hanwitch.”
“Southbourne! Southbourne!” repeated Holdsworth, with the old look of bewilderment that invariably entered his face when some familiar name was sounded in his ear.