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Hereupon the fussy gentleman, redder of face, and more angry than ever, clambered to the roof, still loudly protesting; all of which seemed entirely lost upon Mottle-face, who, taking up the reins and settling his feet against the dash-board, winked a solemn, owl-like eye at Barnabas sitting beside him, and carolled a song in a husky voice, frequently interrupting himself to admonish the ostlers, in this wise:
But, bless you, Mottle-face, having viewed it all under the slant of his hat-brim, merely settles his mottled chin deeper in his shawls, flicks the off ear of the near leader with a delicate turn of the wrists, and turning his owl-like eye upon Barnabas, remarks that "It's a werry fine night!" But hereupon the fussy gentleman, leaning over, taps Mottle-face upon the shoulder.
"Now, in my feyther's time," resumed Mottle-face serenely, "the roads vos vorse than they are to-day, ah! a sight vorse, an' as for 'ighvaymen Lord! they vos as thick as blackberries blackberries? I should say so! Theer vos footpads be'ind every 'edge gangs of 'em an' 'ighvaymen on every 'eath " "God bless my soul!" exclaimed the fussy gentleman, "so many?"
"So should I," nodded Mottle-face "ah, that I should." "You you told me," spluttered the fussy gentleman, in sudden wrath, "that you were coming to my valise." "An' so ve have," nodded Mottle-face, triumphantly. "Ve're at it now; ve've been a-coming to that theer blessed walise ever since you come aboard." "Well, and what's to be done about it?" snapped the fussy gentleman.
"Though," pursued Mottle-face, rolling his head heavily, "Joe ain't 'zactly what you might call a dead shot, nor yet a ex-pert, bein' blind in 'is off blinker, d'ye see." "Eh blind, d'ye say blind?" exclaimed the fussy gentleman. "Only in 'is off eye," nodded Mottle-face, reassuringly, "t'other 'un's as good as yours or mine, ven 'e ain't got a cold in it."
"And, mark you! over an' above all this, my feyther vere the boldest cove that ever " "Yes, yes!" exclaimed the fussy gentleman impatiently, "but where does my valise come in?" "Your walise, sir," said Mottle-face, deftly flicking the off wheeler, "your walise comes in at the end, sir, and I'm a-comin' to it as qvick as you'll let me." "Hum!" said the gentleman again.
"All aboard, all aboard for London!" roars the guard, and roaring, swings himself up into the boot. "All right be'ind?" cries Mottle-face. "All right, Joe!" sings the guard. "Then leggo, there!" cries Mottle-face.
At the time, though I wondered at the man's expression, and the fixity of his gaze, I paid him no further heed, but turned my attention back to Mottle-face, who had, by this time, bellowed himself purple. Howbeit, in due time, the flask having been replenished and handed to him, he dived back into the recesses of the coach, jerked up the window, and vanished as suddenly as he had appeared.
"Oh, 'e vos a great fav'rite vith the Quality," nodded Mottle-face. "Ah! it vos a dream to see 'im 'andle the ribbons, an' spit? Lord! it vos a eddication to see my feyther spit, I should say so! Vun young blood a dock's son he vere too vent an' 'ad a front tooth drawed a purpose, but I never 'eard as it done much good; bless you, to spit like my feyther you must be born to it!"
"Your walise, sir? we'm a-coming to that;" and here, once more, Mottle-face slowly winked his owl-like eye at Barnabas.
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