'Oh, 'Tilda!' cried Miss Squeers, 'how you have been kicking of me
through this blessed night!'
'Well, I do like that,' replied her friend, laughing, 'when you have had
nearly the whole coach to yourself.'
'Don't deny it, 'Tilda,' said Miss Squeers, impressively, 'because you
have, and it's no use to go attempting to say you haven't. You mightn't
have known it in your sleep, 'Tilda, but I haven't closed my eyes for a
single wink, and so I THINK I am to be believed.'
With which reply, Miss Squeers adjusted the bonnet and veil, which
nothing but supernatural interference and an utter suspension of
nature's laws could have reduced to any shape or form; and evidently
flattering herself that it looked uncommonly neat, brushed off the
sandwich-crumbs and bits of biscuit which had accumulated in her lap,
and availing herself of John Browdie's proffered arm, descended from the
coach.
'Noo,' said John, when a hackney coach had been called, and the ladies
and the luggage hurried in, 'gang to the Sarah's Head, mun.'
'To the VERE?' cried the coachman.
'Lawk, Mr Browdie!' interrupted Miss Squeers.
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