“James Payn When the passengers struggled back aboard The Quicksilver in a freezing black dawn, the snow was still falling steadily. But there was no wind. Wind was what caused accidents to stage-coaches, wind that hurled snow up into high drifts. Miss Wimple, rather red about the nose and eye after the libations of the day before, said the weather was all the fault of the government’s encouraging balloonists. If God had meant us to fly, she insisted, he would have given us wings. It stood to re...ason that all these balloons bouncing into the clouds had disturbed the atmosphere and caused the snow to fall. Hannah’s comment that she had never heard of a ballooning expedition in winter was treated with disdain. Mr Judd sat groggily in his corner. His wife poured a little cologne in a handkerchief and bathed his brow; he smiled at her weakly and said he would never touch strong drink again. ‘And neither will I,’ declared Miss Wimple. ‘And as for you, miss,’ she went on, rounding on Belinda, ‘you should never have had any in the first place.’ ‘At the latter stages yesterday,’ said Belinda, ‘Miss Pym and I were drinking lemonade, which is why we are the only two who look at all human this morning.’ ‘Do not address your elders in such a pert manner,’ said Miss Wimple and then put a hand to her head and groaned as the guard tootled ferociously on the yard of tin and the coach moved off into the snow.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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