Its sides were emblazoned with escutcheons, insignia and other paraphernalia.

The large gilt coronet that appeared up its panelling, surmounted by a bunch of huckleberries, quartered in a field of potatoes, indicated that its possessor was, at least, of the rank of marquis.

A coachman and two grooms rode in front, while two footmen, seated in the boot, or box at the rear, contrived, by the immobility of their attitude and the melancholy of their faces, to inspire the scene with an exclusive and aristocratic grandeur.
The occupants of the equipage--for we refuse to count the menials as being such--were two in number, a lady and gentleman, both of advanced years.

Their snow-white hair and benign countenances indicated that they belonged to that rare class of beings to whom rank and wealth are but an incentive to nobler things.

A gentle philanthropy played all over their faces, and their eyes sought eagerly in the passing scene of the humble street for new objects of benefaction.
Those acquainted with the countenances of the aristocracy would have recognized at once in the occupants of the equipage the Marquis of Muddlenut and his spouse, the Marchioness.
It was the eye of the Marchioness which first detected the form of Winnifred Clair upon the doorstep.
"Hold! pause! stop!" she cried, in lively agitation.
The horses were at once pulled in, the brakes applied to the wheels, and with the aid of a powerful lever, operated by three of the menials, the carriage was brought to a standstill.
"See! Look!" cried the Marchioness.