"What's the row?" says another. "Come, dub up!" roars a third. And
I don't mind telling you, in confidence, that I was so frightened that
I took out the sovereign and gave it. My man and Jemmy's maid had
disappeared by this time: they always do when there's a robbery or a row
going on.
I was going after them. "Stop, Mr. Ferguson," pipes a young gentleman of
about thirteen, with a red livery waistcoat that reached to his ankles,
and every variety of button, pin, string, to keep it together. "Stop,
Mr. Heff," says he, taking a small pipe out of his mouth, "and don't
forgit the cabman."
"What's your fare, my lad?" says I.
"Why, let's see--yes--ho!--my fare's seven-and-thirty and eightpence
eggs--acly."
The fourteen gentlemen holding the luggage, here burst out and laughed
very rudely indeed; and the only person who seemed disappointed was,
I thought, the hackney-coachman. "Why, YOU rascal!" says Jemmy, laying
hold of the boy, "do you want more than the coachman?"
"Don't rascal ME, marm!" shrieks the little chap in return. "What's the
coach to me? Vy, you may go in an omlibus for sixpence if you like; vy
don't you go and buss it, marm? Vy did you call my cab, marm? Vy am I to
come forty mile, from Scarlot Street, Po'tl'nd Street, Po'tl'nd Place,
and not git my fare, marm? Come, give me a suffering and a half, and
don't keep my hoss avaiting all day.
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