Fourteen porters came out, and each took a package with the greatest
civility; calling Jemmy her ladyship, and me your honor; ay, and your
honoring and my ladyshipping even my man and the maid in the cab. I
somehow felt all over quite melancholy at going away. "Here, my fine
fellow," says I to the coachman, who was standing very respectful,
holding his hat in one hand and Jemmy's jewel-case in the other--"Here,
my fine chap," says I, "here's six shillings for you;" for I did not
care for the money.
"Six what?" says he.
"Six shillings, fellow," shrieks Jemmy, "and twice as much as your
fare."
"Feller, marm!" says this insolent coachman. "Feller yourself, marm: do
you think I'm a-going to kill my horses, and break my precious back, and
bust my carriage, and carry you, and your kids, and your traps for six
hog?" And with this the monster dropped his hat, with my money in it,
and doubling his fist put it so very near my nose that I really thought
he would have made it bleed. "My fare's heighteen shillings," says he,
"hain't it?--hask hany of these gentlemen."
"Why, it ain't more than seventeen-and-six," says one of the fourteen
porters; "but if the gen'l'man IS a gen'l'man, he can't give no less
than a suffering anyhow."
I wanted to resist, and Jemmy screamed like a Turk; but, "Holloa!" says
one.
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