His head nodded drowsily, and a little saliva trickled down his nether lip.

He straightened himself with a sudden jerk as Barrant climbed up beside him.
"What be yewer doin' yare ?" he demanded.
"I'm going to St.Fair," said Barrant.
"I doan't allow no passergers to sit alongside o' me." "You'll have to put up with it for once," returned Barrant curtly, in no way softened by the odour of Mr.Crows' breath.
As this was a reply which no resident of St.Fair would have dared to make, Mr.Crows bent a muddled glance on his fare, and by a concentrated effort recalled the face of the man who had given him ten shillings on the previous night.

He decided to pocket the present indignity in the hope of another tip.
"Aw right," he said, with unwonted amiability, "yewer can stay where yew are--for wance." He applied himself to driving the wagonette.

Sobriety was not an essential of the feat.

The horse knew the way, drew clear of the town without accident, and jogged into the long winding road which stretched across the moors.