Some Do Not . . ._ A Novel - Ford Madox Ford [59]
'Lead the horse into the shade of that tree. Don't touch her bit: her mouth's sore. Where did you get this job lot? Ashford market: thirty pounds: it's worth more...But, blast you, don't you see you've got a thirteen hands pony's harness for a sixteen and a half hands horse. Let the bit out: three holes: it's cutting the animal's tongue in half...This animal's a rig. Do you know what a rig is? If you give it corn for a fortnight it will kick you and the cart and the stable to pieces in five minutes one day.' He led the conveyance, Mrs Wannop triumphantly complacent and all, into a patch of shade beneath elms.
'Loosen that bit, confound you,' he said to the driver. 'Ah! you're afraid.'
He loosened the bit himself, covering his fingers with greasy harness polish which he hated. Then he said:
'Can you hold her head or are you afraid of that too? You deserve to have her bite your hands off.' He addressed Miss Wannop: 'Can you?' She said: No! I'm afraid of horses. I can drive any sort of car: but I'm afraid of horses.' He said: 'Very proper!' He stood back and looked at the horse: it had dropped its head and lifted its near hind foot, resting the toe on the ground: an attitude of relaxation.
'She'll stand now!' he said. He undid the girth, bending down uncomfortably, perspiring and greasy: the girth-strap parted in his hand.
'It's true,' Mrs Wannop said. 'I'd have been dead in three minutes if you hadn't seen that. The cart would have gone over backwards...'
Tietjens took out a large, complicated, horn-handled knife like a schoolboy's. He selected a punch and pulled it open. He said to the driver:
'Have you got any cobbler's thread? Any string? Any copper wire? A rabbit wire, now? Come, you've got a rabbit wire or you're not a handy-man.'
The driver moved his slouch hat circularly in negation. This seemed to be Quality who summons you for poaching if you own to possessing rabbit wires.
Tietjens laid the girth along the shaft and punched into it with his punch.
'Woman's work!' he said to Mrs Wannop, 'but it'll take you home and last you six months as well...But I'll sell this whole lot for you to-morrow.'
Mrs Wannop sighed:
'I suppose it'll fetch a ten-pound note...' She said: 'I ought to have gone to market myself.'
No!' Tietjens answered: 'I'll get you fifty for it or I'm no Yorkshireman. This fellow hasn't been swindling you. He's got you deuced good value for money, but he doesn't know what's suited for ladies; a white pony and a basketwork chaise is what you want.'
'Oh, I like a bit of spirit,' Mrs Wannop said.
'Of course you do,' Tietjens answered: 'but this turnout's too much.'
He sighed a little and took out his surgical needle.
'I'm going to hold this band together with this,' he said. 'It's so pliant it will make two stitches and hold for ever...
But the handy-man was beside him, holding out the contents of his pockets; a greasy leather pouch, a ball of beeswax, a knife, a pipe, a bit of cheese and a pale rabbit wire. He had made up his mind that this Quality was benevolent and he made offering of all his possessions.
Tietjens said: 'Ah,' and then, while he unknotted the wire:
'Well! Listen...you bought this turn-out off a higgler at the back door of the Leg of Mutton Inn.'
'Saracen's 'Ed!' the driver muttered.
'You got it for thirty pounds because the higgler wanted money bad. I know. And dirt cheap...But a rig isn't everybody's driving. All right for a vet or a horse-coper. Like the cart that's too tall!...But you did damn well. Only you're not what you were, are you, at thirty? And the horse looked to be a devil and the cart so high you couldn't get out once you were in. And you kept it in the sun for two hours waiting for your mistress.'
'There wer' a