"I've got you a bunch of yellow flowers, sir;
will you wear them now, or shall I put them in the bag?"
William glanced at the bouquet. "They look a bit loud," he said; "I'll
wait till we get on the course; put them in the bag."
The card to be worn in the white hat--"William Latch, London," in gold
letters on a green ground--was laid on top. The boots with soles three
inches high went into the box on which William stood while he halloaed his
prices to the crowd. Then there were the two poles which supported a strip
of white linen, on which was written in gold letters, "William Latch, 'The
King's Head,' London. Fair prices, prompt payment."
It was a grey day, with shafts of sunlight coming through, and as the cab
passed over Waterloo Bridge, London, various embankments and St. Paul's on
one side, wharves and warehouses on the other, appeared in grey curves and
straight silhouettes. The pavements were lined with young men--here and
there a girl's dress was a spot of colour in the grey morning. At the
station they met Journeyman and old John, but Sarah was nowhere to be
found. William said--
"We shall be late; we shall have to go without her."
Esther's face clouded. "We can't go without her; don't be so impatient."
At that moment a white muslin was seen in the distance, and Esther said,
"I think that that's Sarah.
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