Secretly and impiously he wriggled in his seat, and as the bumping stage swung its passengers this way and that way, he obtained fleeting glances of a cheek, an arm, or a shoulder.
The driver's conversation tone to his passengers was also a yell.

"Train was an hour late t'night," he said, addressing the interior.

"It'll be nine o'clock before we git t' th' inn, an' it'll be perty dark travellin'." Hawker waited decently, but at last he said, "Will it ?" "Yes.

No moon." He turned to face Hawker, and roared, "You're ol' Jim Hawker's son, hain't yeh ?" "Yes." "I thort I'd seen yeh b'fore.

Live in the city now, don't yeh ?" "Yes." "Want t' git off at th' cross-road ?" "Yes." "Come up fer a little stay doorin' th' summer ?" "Yes." "On'y charge yeh a quarter if yeh git off at cross-road.