The Rev.S.Wraxall, I suppose.

Your bed's aired, sir, and a fire in the Blue Room, and the cloth laid.

My wife didn't like to risk cooking the fowl till you were really come.

'Railways be that uncertain,' she said.

'Something may happen to the train and he'll be done to death and all in pieces.'" It took me a couple of seconds to discover that these gloomy anticipations referred not to me but to the fowl.
"But if you can wait half an hour--" he went on.
"Certainly," said I.