“Oh, I shall find somewhere to-morrow. I’m so glad you did come to-day for Letizia. It will make it ever so much easier for me. The only thing I’m worrying about is the luggage.” “Well, why don’t you let me take what luggage you don’t want down to Greenwich, and then when I bring you Letichia, I can bring you your luggage at the same time. There’s no sense in travelling a lot of luggage round with you like a peacock’s tail. We can just pop what you don’t want into a four-wheeler and take it to London Bridge.” Nancy hesitated. She was wondering if she had enough money left to pay the cab now, and Miss Fewkes’s bill to-morrow morning. However, if she hadn’t, she could visit the pawnbroker early and pledge some odds and ends, so she decided to accept Mrs. Pottage’s offer. “Now who’s going to fetch the four-wheeler?” Mrs. Pottage wanted to know when the packing was finished. “Shall I give a holler to Her Landladyship upstairs?” “Ask Miss Fewkes to fetch a cab?” Nancy exclaimed. “Why, she’d....” Words failed her to express what Miss Fewkes would do. “But what is this Miss Fewkes?” demanded Mrs. Pottage indignantly. “Three ha’porth of nothing from what I could make out of her. Still, rather than create a row on a Sunday afternoon I’ll go and fetch the four-wheeler myself. I’ll stand in Shaftesbury Avenue till one comes along. There’s one thing, the police won’t be so likely to take me for a kerbstone fairy as what they would Lady Fewkes. Oh, dear, oh, dear! Well, I’m bothered if some people nowadays don’t give theirselves as much airs as if they was Margate, Ramsgate, and Brighton all rolled into one.” In about ten minutes Mrs. Pottage returned, followed by a burly old cab-driver in a dark blue beaver coat with treble capes and a shiny bowler hat. “I’ve brought a most obliging driver along with me,” she proclaimed. “The first cab I got, the fellow wouldn’t leave his horse at the corner to come and help down with the luggage. Afraid of his horse, he said. ‘I suppose you’re afraid it’ll fall down and never stand up again if you left go of the reins?’ I said. ‘Never heard of a horse running away, I suppose,’ he answers back very sarcastic. ‘What?’ said I, ‘that pore skelington run away? Why, it couldn’t walk away. It might fade away, yes. And if it didn’t run away of itself, I’m sure nobody wouldn’t ever run away _with_ it. Not even a cats meat man, and they’ll run away with anything as looks a little bit like flesh and blood. But that horse of yours don’t. That horse of yours looks more like a clothes-horse than a real animal. Only I’d be very afraid to hang a towel on its back for fear it might break in half under the weight.’ And with that I walked on and found this driver who’s been most obliging, I’m sure.” The cabman touched his hat in acknowledgment of the flattery, and asked which piece they wanted down first.