The coach stood at the door, the horses dozing
patiently, with their heads together, and the coachman, with a black
eye, mellowing into the yellow stage, and a cut across his nose--both
doing well--was marching across from the public-house over the way,
wiping his mouth in the cuff of his coat.
'Put on your riding-hood, if you please, Madam, and come down with me in
the coach to introduce me to Mrs. Nutter,' said Mrs. Matchwell, at the
same time tapping with her long bony fingers to the driver.
'There's no need of that, Madam. I said what you desired, and I sent a
note to her last night, and she expects you just now; and, indeed, I'd
rather not go, Madam, if you please.'
''Tis past that now--just do as I tell you, for come you must,' answered
Mrs. Matchwell.
As the old woman of Berkley obeyed, and got up and went quietly away
with her visitor, though her dead flesh quivered with fear, so poor Mrs.
Mack, though loath enough, submitted in silence.
'Now, you look like a body going to be hanged--you do; what's the matter
with you, Madam? I tell you, you mustn't look that way. Here, take a sup
o' this;' and she presented the muzzle of a small bottle like a pistol
at her mouth as she spoke--
'There's a glass on the table, if you let me, Ma'am,' said Mrs.
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