THE TRAVELLING COMPANIONS.

No.  III.

Scene—­On the Coach from Braine l’Alleud to Waterloo.  The vehicle has a Belgian driver, but the conductor is a true-born Briton.  Mr. CYRUS K. TROTTER and his daughter are behind with PODBURY.  CULCHARD, who is not as yet sufficiently on speaking terms with his friend to ask for an introduction, is on the box-seat in front.

Mr. Trotter.  How are you getting along, Maud?  Your seat pretty comfortable?

Miss Trotter.  Well, I guess it would be about as luxurious if it hadn’t got a chunk of wood nailed down the middle—­it’s not going to have anyone confusing it with a bed of roses just yet. (To PODB.) Your friend mad about anything?  He don’t seem to open his head more’n he’s obliged to.  I presume he don’t approve of your taking up with me and Father—­he keeps away from us considerable, I notice.

Podb. (awkwardly).  Oh—­er—­I wouldn’t say that, but he’s a queer kind of chap rather, takes prejudices into his head and all that.  I wouldn’t trouble about him if I were you—­not worth it, y’ know.

Miss T. Thanks—­but it isn’t going to shorten my existence any.

    [CULCH. overhears all this, with feelings that may be
    imagined.

Belgian Driver (to his horses).  Pullep!  Allez vite!  Bom-bom-bom!  Alright!

Conductor (to CULCHARD).  ’E’s very proud of ’is English, ’e is.  ’Ere, JEWLS, ole feller, show the gen’lm’n ’ow yer can do a swear. (Belgian Driver utters a string of English imprecations with the utmost fluency and good-nature.) ’Ark at ’im now!  Bust my frogs! (Admiringly, and not without a sense of the appropriateness of the phrase.) But he’s a caution, Sir, ain’t he? I taught him most o’ what he knows!

A French Passenger (to Conductor).  Dis done, mon ami, est-ce qu’on peut voir d’ici le champ de bataille?

Conductor (with proper pride).  It ain’t no use your torkin to me, Mossoo; I don’t speak no French myself. (To CULCHARD.) See that field there, Sir?

Culchard (interested).  On the right?  Yes, what happened there?

[Illustration:  “Leesten, I dell you vonce more.”]

Cond. Fine lot o’ rabbits inside o’ there—­big fat ’uns. (To another Passenger.) No, Sir, that ain’t Belly Lions as you see from ’ere; that’s Mon Sin Jeean, and over there Oogymong, and Chalyroy to the left.

ON THE TOP OF THE MOUND.