ng hard.

"It _will_ be," assented Mr. Jope grimly.

"I been up all night: at a ball."

"If it comes to that, so've I: at Symonds's."

"Mine was at Admiralty House," said the driver. "I wasn' dancin'."

"What about the horse?"

"The horse? the ho--Oh, I take your meanin'! The horse is all right:
he's a fresh one. Poor I may be," he announced inconsecutively,
"but I wouldn' live the life of one of them there women of fashion,
not for a million of money." He ruminated for a moment. "Did I
say a million?"

"You did."

"Well I don't wishaggerate. I don't, if you understand me,
wish--to--exaggerate: so we'll put it at half a million."

"All right: jump up!"

To my astonishment, no less than to Mr. Jope's (who had scarcely time
to skip back into the coach), the man scrambled up to his seat
without more ado, flicked his whip, and began to urge the horse
forward. At the end of five minutes or so, however, he pulled up
just as abruptly.

"Eh?" Mr. Jope put forth his head. "Ah, I see--public-house!"

He alighted, and entered; returned with a pot of porter in one hand
and a glass of brandy in the other; dexterously tipped half the
brandy into the porter, and handed up the mixture. The driver took
it down at one steady draught.

The pot and glass were returned and we jogged on again. We were now
well beyond the outskirts of Stoke and between dusty hedges over
which the honeysuckle trailed. Butterflies poised themselves and
flickered beside us, and the sun, as it climbed, drew up from the
land the fragrance of freshly mown hay and mingled it with the stuffy
odour of the coach. By and by we halted again, by another roadside
inn, and again Mr. Jope fetched forth and administered insidious
drink.

"If this is going to last," said the charioteer dreamily, "may I have
strength to see the end o't!"

I did not catch this prayer, but Mr. Jope reported it to me as he
resumed his seat, with an ill-timed laugh. The fellow, who had been
gathering up his reins, lurched round suddenly and gazed in through
the glass front.

"You was sayin'?" he demanded.

"Nothing," answered Mr. Jope hastily. "I was talking to myself,
that's all."

"The point is, Am I, or am I not, an objic of derision?"

"If you don't drive on this moment, I'll step around and punch your
head."

"Tha's all right. Tha's right as ninepence. It's not much I arsk--
only to have things clear." He drove on.

We halted at yet another publi