‘Which is up?’ said Martin.
‘London, of course,’ said the driver.
‘Up then,’ said Martin. He tossed his head in a careless manner afterwards, as if he would have added, ‘Now you know all about it.’ put his hands deeper into his pockets; changed his tune, and whistled a little louder.
‘I’m going up,’ observed the driver; ‘Hounslow, ten miles this side London.’
‘Are you?’ cried Martin, stopping short and looking at him.
The driver sprinkled the fire with his wet hat until it hissed again and answered, ‘Aye, to be sure he was.’
‘Why, then,’ said Martin, ‘I’ll be plain with you. You may suppose from my dress that I have money to spare. I have not. All I can afford for coach-hire is a crown, for I have but two. If you can take me for that, and my waistcoat, or this silk handkerchief, do. If you can’t, leave it alone.’
‘Short and sweet,’ remarked the driver.
‘You want more?’ said Martin. ‘Then I haven’t got more, and I can’t get it, so there’s an end of that.’ Whereupon he began to whistle again.
‘I didn’t say I wanted more, did I?’ asked the driver, with something like indignation.