"Bless you, you'll get through swimmingly." There was a moment's pause.

Richardson looked at Coote; Coote looked at Richardson, and between them they thought they saw a joke.
Tom pulled up by the road-side once more, while Heathcote arranged with his creditors on the floor of the waggonette.

When, at length, the order to proceed was given, that trusty Jehu ventured on a mild expostulation.

"Look'ee here, young gem'an," said he, touching his hat.
"You've got to get to Templeton by ten o'clock, and it's past nine now.
I guess you'd better save up them larks for when you're coming home." "None of your cheek, Tom," said Richardson, "or we'll have you down here, and pay you out, my boy.

Put it on, can't you?
Why don't you whip the beast up ?" The prospect of coming down to be paid out by his vivacious passengers was sufficiently alarming to Tom to induce him to take their admonition seriously to heart; and for the rest of the journey, although several times business transactions were taking place on the floor of the vehicle, the plodding horse held on its course, and Markridge duly hove in sight.
With the approaching end of the journey, the boys once more became serious and uncomfortable.
"I say," said Coote, in a whisper, as if Dr Winter, at Templeton, a mile away, were within hearing, "do tell me whose son he was.