he's fit to be fust vip to the Queen herself; and I'm proud to call
him my poople. Why, sir, - if his honour here will pardon me for
makin' so free, - this 'ere gent is Four-in-hand Fosbrooke, of which
you ~must~ have heerd on."

Mr. Green replied that he had not had that pleasure.

"Ah! a pleasure you ~may~ call it, sir, with parfect truth," replied
the coachman; "but, lor bless me, sir, weer ~can~ you have lived?"

The "poople" who had listened to this, highly amused, slightly turned
his head, and said to Mr. Green, "Pray don't feel any alarm, sir; I
believe you are quite safe under my guidance. This is not the first
time by many that I have driven this coach, - not to mention others;
and you may conclude that I should not have gained the ~sobriquet~ to
which my worthy friend has alluded without having ~some~ pretensions
to a knowledge of the art of driving."

Mr. Green murmured his apologies for his mistrust, - expressed perfect
faith in Mr. Fosbrooke's skill - and then lapsed into silent
meditation on the various arts and sciences in which the gentlemen of
the University of Oxford seemed to be most proficient, and pictured
to himself what would be his feelings if he ever came to see Verdant
driving a coach! There certainly did not appear to be much
probability of such an event; but can any ~pater familias~ say what
even the most carefully brought up young Hopeful will do when he has
arrived at years of indiscretion?

Altogether, Mr. Green did not particularly enjoy the journey.