see (for it; was covered in), with corn and straw. The driver, who was alone, stopped at the door to water his team, and presently came stamping and shaking the wet off his hat and coat, into the room where Martin sat.
He was a red-faced hurly young fellow; smart in his way, and with a good-humoured countenance. As he advanced towards the fire, he touched his shining forehead with the forefinger of his stiff leather glove, by way of salutation; and said (rather unnecessarily) that it was an uncommon wet day.
"Very wet," said Martin.
"I don't know as ever I see a wetter."
"I never felt one," said Martin.
The driver glanced at Martin's soiled dress, and his damp shirt-sleeves, and his coat hung up to dry; and said, after a pause, as he warmed his hands:
"You have been caught in it, sir?"
"Yes," was the short reply.
"Out riding, maybe?" said the driver.
"I should have been if I owned a horse; but I don't," returned Martin.
"That's bad," said the driver.
"And may be worse," said Martin.
Now, the driver said "That's bad," not so much because Martin didn't own a horse, as because he said he didn't with all the reckless desperation of his mood and circumstances, and so left a great deal to be inferred. Martin put his hands in his pockets and whistled, when he had retorted on the driver: thus giving him to understand that he didn't care a pin for Fortune; that he was above pretending to be her favourite when he was not; and that he snapped his fingers at her, the driver, and everybody else.
The driver looked at him stealthily for a minute or so; and in the pauses of his warming, whistled too. At length he asked, as he pointed his thumb towards the road,
"Up or down?"
"Which is up?" said Martin.
"London, of course," said the driver.
"Up then," said Martin. He tossed his head in a careless manner afterwards, as if he would have added, "Now you know all about it;" put his hands deeper into his pockets; changed his tune, and whistled a little louder.
"I'm going up," observed the driver; "Hounslow, ten miles this side London."
"Are you?" cried Martin, stopping short and looking at him.
The driver sprinkled the fire with his wet hat until it hissed again, and answered, 'Ay; to be sure he was.'
"Why, then," said Martin, "I'll be plain with you. You may suppose from my dress that I have money to spare. I have not. All I can afford for coach-hire is a crown, for I have but two. If you can take me for that, and my waistcoat, or this silk handkerchief, do. If you can't, leave it alone."
