This speech was received with much wonder by his Lordship; who was,
indeed, no other than a Liverpool tailor going to London to learn
fashions; but he only smiled, and did not undeceive the landlady,
who herself went off, smilingly, to bustle about dinner.

The two or three hours allotted to that meal by the liberal
coachmasters of those days passed away, and Mr. Coachman, declaring
that his horses were now rested enough, and that they had twelve
miles to ride, put the steeds to, and summoned the passengers. Mrs.
Score, who had seen with much satisfaction that her niece was really
ill, and her fever more violent, and hoped to have her for many days
an inmate in her house, now came forward, and casting upon the
Liverpool tailor a look of profound but respectful melancholy, said,
"My Lord (for I recollect your Lordship quite well), the lady
upstairs is so ill, that it would be a sin to move her: had I not
better tell coachman to take down your Lordship's trunks, and the
lady's, and make you a bed in the next room?"

Very much to her surprise, this proposition was received with a roar
of laughter. "Madam," said the person addressed, "I'm not a lord,
but a tailor and draper; and as for that young woman, before to-day
I never set eyes on her."

"WHAT!" screamed out Mrs. Score. "Are not you the Count? Do you
mean to say that you a'n't Cat's--? DO you mean to say that you
didn't order her bed, and that you won't pay this here little bill?"
And with this she produced a document, by which the Count's lady was
made her debtor in a sum of half-a-guinea.