Page:Aunt Jo's Scrap-Bag, Volume 4.djvu/39

 My irrepressible sister burst out laughing at the absurdity of our position.

"Don't laugh, M, for mercy's sake! It's no joke to be wandering about this great city at eleven o'clock at night in a thick fog, with a tipsy driver," I croaked, with a warning pinch.

"He isn't tipsy, only stupid, as we are, not to have engaged a carriage to come for us."

"He is tipsy; I smelt gin in his breath, and he is half asleep up there, I've no doubt, for we have passed one, if not two policemen, I'm sure."

"Nonsense! you wouldn't know your own father in this mist. Let Jarvey alone and he will bring us safely home."

"We shall see," I answered, grimly, as a splash of mud lit upon my nose, and the cab gave a perilous lurch in cutting round a sharp corner.

Did any one ever find a policeman when he was wanted? I never did, though they are as thick as blackberries when they are not needed.

On and on we went, but not a felt helmet appeared, and never did escaping fugitive look more eagerly for the North Star than I did for a gleaming badge on a blue coat.

"There's a station! I shall stop and ask, for I'm not going slamming and splashing about any longer.