We can't leave by railway, because the lawyer's clerk is
sure to be on the lookout for you at the York terminus. Very good; we
take to the road instead, and leave in our own carriage. Where the deuce
do we get it? We get it from the landlady's brother, who has a horse
and chaise which he lets out for hire. That chaise comes to the end of
Rosemary Lane at an early hour to-morrow morning. I take my wife and
my niece out to show them the beauties of the neighborhood. We have a
picnic hamper with us, which marks our purpose in the public eye. You
disfigure yourself in a shawl, bonnet, and veil of Mrs. Wragge's; we
turn our backs on York; and away we drive on a pleasure trip for the
day--you and I on the front seat, Mrs. Wragge and the hamper behind.
Good again. Once on the highroad, what do we do? Drive to the first
station beyond York, northward, southward, or eastward, as may be
hereafter determined. No lawyer's clerk is waiting for you there.
You and Mrs. Wragge get out--first opening the hamper at a convenient
opportunity. Instead of containing chickens and Champagne, it contains
a carpet-bag, with the things you want for the night. You take your
tickets for a place previously determined on, and I take the chaise back
to York.
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