But her bosom might have been encased in an iron corselet for all the
tenderness it conveyed. "God bless you, Harry Brooks, and try to be
a man!" Her embrace relaxed, and with a dry-sounding sob she let me
go as I caught the coachman's hand and was swung up to my seat; and
with that we were off and up the cobble-paved street at a rattle.

I do not know the names of my fellow-passengers. Now and then one
would bend forward and whisper to his neighbour, who answered with a
grunt or a motion of his head; but for the most part, and for mile
after mile, we all sat silent, listening only to the horses' gallop,
the chime of the swingle-bars, the hum of the night wind in our ears.
The motion and the strong breeze together lulled me little by little
into a doze. My neighbour on the right wore around his shoulders a
woollen shawl, against which after a while I found my cheek resting,
and begged his pardon. He entreated me not to mention it, but to
make myself comfortable; and thereupon I must have fallen fast
asleep. I awoke as the coach came to a standstill. Were we pulling
up to change teams? No; we were on the dark high-road, between
hedges. Straight ahead of us blazed two carriage-lamps; and a man's
voice was hailing. I recognized the voice at once. It belonged to a
Mr. Jack Rogers, a rory-tory young squire and justice of the peace of
our neighbourhood, and the lamps must be those of his famous light
tilbury.

"Hallo!" he was shouting. "Royal Mail, ahoy!"

"Royal Mail it is!" shouted back the coachman and Jim the guard
together.

"Got the boy Brooks aboard?"