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Stevenson, Robert Louis, 1850-1894

"St. Ives, Being the Adventures of a French Prisoner in England"

And I suppose I betrayed in my manner the degree in which
the bargain tempted me.
'Come,' cried the postmaster--'I'll make it seventy, to oblige a
friend!'
'The point is: the horses,' said I.
'Well,' said he, consulting his watch, 'it's now gone the 'alf
after eight. What time do you want her at the door?'
'Horses and all?' said I.
''Osses and all!' says he. 'One good turn deserves another. You
give me seventy pound for the shay, and I'll 'oss it for you. I
told you I didn't MAKE 'osses; but I CAN make 'em, to oblige a
friend.'
What would you have? It was not the wisest thing in the world to
buy a chaise within a dozen miles of my uncle's house; but in this
way I got my horses for the next stage. And by any other it
appeared that I should have to wait. Accordingly I paid the money
down--perhaps twenty pounds too much, though it was certainly a
well-made and well-appointed vehicle--ordered it round in half an
hour, and proceeded to refresh myself with breakfast.
The table to which I sat down occupied the recess of a bay-window,
and commanded a view of the front of the inn, where I continued to
be amused by the successive departures of travellers--the fussy and
the offhand, the niggardly and the lavish--all exhibiting their
different characters in that diagnostic moment of the farewell:
some escorted to the stirrup or the chaise door by the chamberlain,
the chambermaids and the waiters almost in a body, others moving
off under a cloud, without human countenance.


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