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.Mack.
'Glass be----; here, take a mouthful.' And she popped it between her lips; and Mrs.Mack was refreshed and her spirit revived within her..