CHAPTER XXXVI.
The Sunday Cab.
One morning, as Jerry had just put me into the shafts and was fastening the traces, a gentleman walked into the yard; "Your servant, sir," said Jerry.
"Good morning, Mr. Barker," said the gentleman. "I should be glad to make some arrangements with you for taking Mrs. Briggs regularly to church on Sunday morning. We go to the New Church now, and that is rather further than she can walk."
"Thank you, sir," said Jerry, "but I have only taken out a six days' licence,[1] and therefore I could not take a fare on a Sunday, it would not be legal."
"Oh!" said the other, "I did not know yours was a six days' cab; but of course it would be very easy to alter your licence. I would see that you did not lose by it: the fact is, Mrs. Briggs very much prefers you to drive her."
"I should be glad to oblige the lady, sir, but I had a seven days' licence once, and the work was too hard for me, and too hard for my horses. Year in and year out, not a day's rest, and never a Sunday with
- ↑ A few years since the annual charge for a cab licence was very much reduced, and the difference between the six and seven days' cabs was abolished.
