I said--
"And this is the best time of the year for it, so I'm told." It was
early summer time.
He said--"It's all right in summer, and it's good enough in winter-
-WHILE IT LASTS. You make the most of it, young 'un;" and he
slapped me on the back and laughed.
He would have irritated me in another minute. I paid for the seats
and left him.
At half-past eight the next morning Minnie and I started for the
coach-office. I call her Minnie, not with any wish to be
impertinent, but because I have forgotten her surname. It must be
ten years since I last saw her. She was a pretty girl, too, with
those brown eyes that always cloud before they laugh. Her aunt did
not drive down with us as she had intended, in consequence of a
headache. She was good enough to say she felt every confidence in
me.
The old booking-clerk caught sight of us when we were about a
quarter of a mile away, and drew to us the attention of the
coachman, who communicated the fact of our approach to the gathered
passengers. Everybody left off talking, and waited for us. The
boots seized his horn, and blew--one could hardly call it a blast;
it would be difficult to say what he blew. He put his heart into
it, but not sufficient wind.
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