There was none to be had: the only one in the town was under repair. "A gig then—a fly—car—anything—only be quick!" There was a gig but not a horse to spare. I sent into the town to seek one; but they were such an intolerable time about it that I could wait no longer: I thought my own feet could carry me sooner, and bidding them send the confounded conveyance after me, if it were ready within an hour, I set off as fast as I could walk. The distance was little more than six miles, but the road was strange, and I had to keep stopping to enquire my way—hallooing to carters and clod-hoppers, and frequently invading the cottages, for there were few abroad that winter's morning,—sometimes knocking up the lazy people from their beds, for where so little work was to be done—perhaps so little food and fire to be had, they cared not to curtail their slumbers. I had no time to think of them, however: aching with weariness and desperation, I hurried on. The gig did not overtake me: it was well I had not
