So, if you're sure o' the place,
I may as well be a-gettin' down of _your_ boxes."
So saying, he got on the cab, and proceeded to unfasten the chain
that secured the luggage.
"Wait a bit, cabbie. Don't you be in sech a 'urry as if you was a
'ansom, now," cried the footman, reappearing at the farther end
of the hall. "I should be sorry if there was a mistake, and you
wasn't man enough to put your boxes up again without assistance."
Then, turning to Mary, "Mrs. Perkin says, miss--that's the
housekeeper, miss," he went on, "--that, if as you're the young
woman from the country--and I'm sure I beg your pardon if I make
a mistake--it ain't my fault, miss--Mrs. Perkin says she did hear
Mrs. Redmain make mention of one, but she didn't have any
instructions concerning her.--But, as there you are," he
continued more familiarly, gathering courage from Mary's nodded
assent, "you can put your boxes in the hall, and sit down, she
says, till Mrs. R. comes 'ome."
"Do you think she will be long?" asked Mary.
"Well, that's what no fellow can't say, seein' its a new play as
she's gone to. They call it Doomsday, an' there's no tellin' when
parties is likely to come 'ome from that," said the man, with a
grin of satisfaction at his own wit.
Was London such a happy place that everybody in it was given to
joking, thought Mary.
"'Ere, mister! gi' me a 'and wi' this 'ere luggage," cried the
cabman, finding the box he was getting down too much for him.
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