 creature!«
    Barbara was the subject of Mr. Chuckster's commendations; and as she was
lingering near the carriage (all being now ready for its departure), that
gentleman was suddenly seized with a strong interest in the proceedings, which
impelled him to swagger down the garden, and take up his position at a
convenient ogling distance. Having had great experience of the sex, and being
perfectly acquainted with all those little artifices which find the readiest
road to their hearts, Mr. Chuckster, on taking his ground, planted one hand on
his hip, and with the other adjusted his flowing hair. This is a favourite
attitude in the polite circles, and, accompanied with a graceful whistling, has
been known to do immense execution.
    Such, however, is the difference between town and country, that nobody took
the smallest notice of this insinuating figure; the wretches being wholly
engaged in bidding the travellers farewell, in kissing hands to each other,
waving handkerchiefs, and the like tame and vulgar practices. For, now, the
single gentleman and Mr. Garland were in the carriage, and the post-boy was in
the saddle, and Kit, well wrapped and muffled up, was in the rumble behind; and
Mrs. Garland was there, and Mr. Abel was there, and Kit's mother was there, and
little Jacob was there, and Barbara's mother was visible in remote perspective,
nursing the ever-wakeful baby; and all were nodding, beckoning, curtseying, or
crying out, »Good-bye!« with all the energy they could express. In another
minute, the carriage was out of sight; and Mr. Chuckster remained alone on the
spot where it had lately been, with a vision of Kit standing up in the rumble
waving his hand to Barbara, and of Barbara in the full light and lustre of his
eyes - his eyes - Chuckster's - Chuckster the successful - on whom ladies of
quality had looked with favour from phaetons in the parks on Sundays - waving
hers to Kit!
    How Mr. Chuckster, entranced by this monstrous fact, stood for some time
rooted to the earth, protesting within himself that Kit was the Prince of
felonious characters, and very Emperor or Great Mogul of Snobs, and how he
clearly traced this revolting circumstance back to that old villany of the
shilling, are matters foreign to our purpose; which is to track the rolling
wheels, and bear the travellers company on their cold, bleak journey.
    It was a bitter day. A keen wind was blowing, and rushed against them
fiercely:
