Page:Aunt Jo's Scrap-Bag, Volume 4.djvu/43

 I had my laugh out and then tried to mend matters. What could we do? My first impulse was to stir up the sleeping wretch above, and this I did by energetically twitching the reins that hung loosely before our noses like the useless rudder of this lost ship.

"Young man, if you don't wake up and take us to Colville Gardens as quickly as possible, I shall report you to-morrow. I've got your number, and I shall get my friend, Mr. Peter Taylor, of Aubrey House, to attend to the matter. He's an M.P., and will see that you are fined for attempting to drive a cab when you know nothing of London."

I fear that most of this impressive harangue was lost, owing to the noise of the wheels and the feebleness of my nearly extinguished voice; but it had some effect, for though the man did not seem scared by the threatened wrath of an M.P., he did feel his weak point and try to excuse it, for he answered in a gruffy, apologetic tone,—

"Who's a-goin' to know any thing in such a blessed fog as this? Most cabbies wouldn't try to drive at no price, but I'll do my best, mum."

"Very well. Do you know where we are now?" I demanded.

"Blest if I do!"