'Martin!' said the old lady, calling to the surly man, out of the
front window.
'Well?' said the surly man, touching his hat to the old lady.
'Mr. Sawyer's,' said the old lady.
'I was going there,' said the surly man.
The old lady nodded the satisfaction which this proof of the
surly man's foresight imparted to her feelings; and the surly man
giving a smart lash to the chubby horse, they all repaired to
Mr. Bob Sawyer's together.
'Martin!' said the old lady, when the fly stopped at the door of
Mr. Robert Sawyer, late Nockemorf.
'Well?' said Martin.
'Ask the lad to step out, and mind the horse.'
'I'm going to mind the horse myself,' said Martin, laying his
whip on the roof of the fly.
'I can't permit it, on any account,' said the old lady; 'your
testimony will be very important, and I must take you into the
house with me. You must not stir from my side during the whole
interview. Do you hear?'
'I hear,' replied Martin.
'Well; what are you stopping for?'
'Nothing,' replied Martin. So saying, the surly man leisurely
descended from the wheel, on which he had been poising himself
on the tops of the toes of his right foot, and having summoned
the boy in the gray livery, opened the coach door, flung down the
steps, and thrusting in a hand enveloped in a dark wash-leather
glove, pulled out the old lady with as much unconcern in his
manner as if she were a bandbox.
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