Page:Life's little ironies (1894).pdf/201

It is a Saturday afternoon of blue-and-yellow autumn-time, and the scene is the high street of a well-known market-town, A large carrier's van stands in the quadrangular fore-court of the White Hart Inn, upon the sides of its spacious tilt being painted, in weather - beaten lettera: “ Burthen, Carrier to Long-puddle.” These vans, so numerous hereabout, are a respectable, if somewhat lumbering, class of conveyance, much resorted to by decent travellers not overstocked with money, the better among them roughly corresponding to the old French diligences.

The present one is timed to leave the town at four in the afternoon precisely, and it is now half- past three by the clock in the turret at the top: of the street. In a few seconds errand-boys from the shops begin to arrive with packages which they fling into the vehiole, and turn away whistling, and care for the packages no more. At twenty minutes to four an elderly woman places her basket upon the shafts, slowly mounts, takes up a seat inside, and folds her banda and her lips, She has secured her corner for the journey, though there is as yet no sign of a horse being put in, nor of a carrier. At the three-quarters, two other women arrive, in whom the first recognizes the postmistresa of Upper Longpuddle and the registrar’s wife, they recognizing her as the aged groceress