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"Yes, yes!" exclaientleman 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-coentleain

"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

'ehvaymen on every 'eath--"

"God bless entleman, "so many?"

"Many?" snorted Mottle-face, "there vos armies of 'em But my feyther,

as I think I mentioned afore, vere the bravest, boldest, best-plucked

coachman as ever sat on a box"

"I hope it runs in the faive to boastin', nor yet to blowin' my own 'orn,

but truth is truth, and--it do!"

"Good!" said the fussy gentleues vos a cove called Black Dan, a