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There was an ancient character going along the road. He walked with a staff, a crooked stick. Under his chin were whiskers; his eyes were merry and bright and his cheeks just like fine rosy apples, with a great high light on each. I asked of him the way and we trudged along together. "You are from Mericy," he said with delight. He told me about himself.
"What am I to do now with you two little tots, and that 'ere dawg?" said the cabby, coming up to the cab door. "There ain't no Mrs. West yere. And that 'ere young party" with a jerk of his thumb at the slatternly little individual who stood watching and grinning on the steps "her says as Mrs. West have gone to 'Mericy. Ain't there no one else as I can take you to, little uns?"
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