Chapter 10 - Page 2

with old
Clumsy balustrades, ran round two sides of the straggling area,
and a double row of bells to correspond, sheltered from the
weather by a little sloping roof, hung over the door leading to the
bar and coffee-room. Two or three gigs and chaise-carts were
wheeled up under different little sheds and pent-houses; and the
occasional heavy tread of a cart-horse, or rattling of a chain at
the farther end of the yard, announced to anybody who cared
about the matter, that the stable lay in that direction. When
we add that a few boys in smock-frocks were lying asleep on
heavy packages, wool-packs, and other articles that were
scattered about on heaps of straw, we have described as fully
as need be the general appearance of the yard of the White
Hart Inn, High Street, Borough, on the particular morning in question.

A loud ringing of one of the bells was followed by the appearance
of a smart chambermaid in the upper sleeping gallery, who,
after tapping at one of the doors, and receiving a request from
within, called over the balustrades--
'Sam!'

'Hollo,' replied the man with the white hat.

'Number twenty-two wants his boots.'

'Ask number twenty-two, vether he'll have 'em now, or vait
till he gets 'em,' was the reply.

'Come, don't be a fool, Sam,' said the girl coaxingly, 'the
gentleman wants his boots directly.'

'Well, you ARE a nice young 'ooman for a musical party, you
are,' said the boot-cleaner. 'Look at these here boots--eleven
pair o' boots; and one shoe as belongs to number six, with the
wooden leg. The eleven boots is to be called at half-past eight and
the shoe at nine. Who's number twenty-two, that's to put all the
others out? No, no; reg'lar rotation, as Jack Ketch said, ven he
tied the men up. Sorry to keep you a-waitin', Sir, but I'll attend
to you directly.'

Saying which, the man in the white hat set to work upon a
top-boot with increased assiduity.

There was another loud ring; and the bustling old landlady of
the White Hart made her appearance in the opposite gallery.

'Sam,' cried the landlady, 'where's that lazy, idle-- why, Sam--
oh, there you are; why don't you answer?'

'Vouldn't be gen-teel to answer, till you'd done talking,'
replied Sam gruffly.

'Here, clean these shoes for number seventeen directly, and
take 'em to private sitting-room, number five, first floor.'

The landlady flung a pair of lady's shoes into the yard, and
bustled away.

'Number five,' said Sam, as he picked up the shoes, and taking
a piece of chalk from his pocket, made a memorandum of their
destination on the soles--'Lady's shoes and private sittin'-
room! I suppose she didn't come in the vagin.'

'She