Читать книгу Thereby Hangs a Tale. Volume One - Fenn George Manville - Страница 9

“There you are, Ratty,” said Sam Jenkles, sticking a small yellow sunflower in each of his horse’s blinkers, before mounting to his perch and driving out of the yard. “Now you look ’andsome. Only recklect ’andsome is as ’andsome does; so just putt your right leg fust for once in a way.”

He walked round the horse, giving it a smooth here and a smooth there with his worn-out glove, and patting its neck, before walking back, and beginning to button-up for the day.

“Blest if ever I see such a tail in my life as he’s got,” he muttered. “Wonder what a hartificial one ’ud cost. It aint no kind o’ use to comb it, ’thout you want to comb it all out and leave no tail at all I wouldn’t care if it warn’t so ragged.”

It certainly was a melancholy-looking tail, but only in keeping with the rest of the horse’s personal appearance, which was of the most dejected – dispirited. If it had only been black, the steed would have been the beau ideal beast for a workhouse hearse; as he was of a dingy brown, he was relegated to a cab.

“What’s the matter, Sam?” said a cleaner, coming up – a man with a stable pail of water in one hand, a spoke-brush in the other, and a general exemplification of how, by degrees, Nature will make square people fit into round holes, and the reverse; for, by the constant carriage of stable pails, the man’s knees had gone in, and out of the perpendicular, so as to allow for the vessels’ swing.

“What’s the matter, Buddy? Why, everythink. Look at that there ’oss – look at his tail.”

“Well, he aint ’andsome, suttunly,” said the helper.

“’Andsome!” exclaimed Sam; “no, nor he aint anythink else. He won’t go, nor he won’t stop. If you wants him to ’old ’is ’ead up, he ’angs it down; and if you wants him to ’old it down, he shoves it up in the air, and goes shambling along like a sick camel. He’s all rules of contrairy.”

“’Oppin’ about like a little canary,” chimed in the helper.

“’Oppin’ about!” said Sam, in a tone of disgust. “I should just like to see him, if on’y for once in a way. I tell yer what it is, Buddy, I believe sometimes all he does is to lift his legs up, one at a time, an’ lean up agin his collar. Natur’ does the rest.”

“Werry likely,” said Buddy; “but you can’t expect everything in a cab ’oss.”

“Heverythink?” said Sam. “I don’t expect everythink; I only want some-think; and all you’ve got there,” he continued, pointing with one thumb over his shoulder at the unfortunate Ratty, “is so much walking cats’-meat.”

“Yes, he aint ’andsome, suttunly,” said Buddy again, screwing up one side of his face. “But why don’t you smooth him over? Try kindness, and give the whip a ’ollerday.”

“Kindness – whip – ’ollerday! Why, I’m like a father to ’im. Look here.”

Sam went to the little boot at the back of his cab, and tugged out the horse’s nose-bag, which was lined at the bottom with tin, so that it would have held water.

“See that?” said Sam.

“Yes: what’s it for?” said Buddy.

“Beer,” said Sam, fiercely, “beer! Many’s the ’arfpint I’ve poured in there along of his chopped meat, jest to cheer him up a bit, and he aint got no missus to smell his breath. I thought that ’ud make ’im go if anythink would.”

“Well, didn’t it?” said Buddy, rubbing his ear with the spoke-brush.

“Didn’t it?” said Sam. “Lets out at me with his orf ’ind leg, and then comes clay mill, and goes round and round till he oughter ’ave been dizzy, but he worn’t. There never was sech a ungrateful beast.”

Buddy grinned as Sam stuffed back the nose-bag, the horse shaking his head the while.

“Try it on me, Sam,” said Buddy, as the driver prepared to mount. “I won’t let out with no orf ’ind legs.”

Sam winked, and climbed to his perch.

“What’s the flowers for, Sam?” said the helper.

“The missus. Goin’ to call for her, and drive her to Upper ’ollerway,” said Sam, “afore I goes on the rank.”

“Oh, will you tell her,” said Buddy, earnestly, “as Ginger’s ever so much better, and can a’most putt his little leg to the ground? He eats that stuff she brought him like fun.”

“What stuff was that?” said Sam, gathering up the reins.

“Sorter yaller jally,” said Buddy.

“What, as smells o’ lemons?” said Sam.

“Yes, that’s it,” said Buddy; “he just do like it.”

“How long’s he been bad now?”

“Twelve weeks,” said Buddy; “and he’s been ’most worn to skin and bone; but he’s pulling up now. Takes his corn.”

“Mornin’,” said Sam.

He tried to start; but Batty moved sidewise, laid a blinker against the whitewashed wall of the yard, and rubbed it up and down, so that it had to be wiped over with a wet leather by Buddy; and when that was done, he tried to back the cab into a narrow stable door. After that, though, he seemed better, and began to go in a straight line.

“Tried that there game at a plate-glass winder t’other day,” said Sam, shouting over his shoulder as he left the yard. “He’d ha’ done it, too, if it hadn’t been for a lamp-post.”

Sam and his steed went gently out of Grey’s Inn Lane towards Pentonville, where, in a little quiet street, Mrs Jenkles resided, and Sam began musing as he went along —

“I smelt that there stuff in the cupboard, and meant to ask her what it was, but I forgot. On’y to think of her making that up, and taking it to poor Buddy’s little bairn! Well, she’s a good sort, is the missus, on’y she will be so hard on me about a drop o’ beer. ’Old that there ’ead still, will yer? What are yer lookin’ arter, there? Oh! that cats-meat barrer. Ah! yer may well shy at that, Ratty; I don’t wonder at it. Now, then, get on, old boy, the missus ’ll be waiting.”

On reaching Spring Place, where Sam dwelt, the horse objected. He was sawing along in a straightforward way, when Sam drew one rein, with the consequence that the horse’s head came round, his long neck bending till the animal’s face was gazing at him in a dejected, lachrymose fashion: Ratty seeming to say, as plainly as looks would express it, “What are you doing?” while all the time the legs went straight forward up Pentonville Hill.

They had got twenty yards past Spring Place before Sam could pull the horse up; and then he had to get down to take it by the head and turn it in a very ignominious fashion.

“Jest opposite a public, too,” said Sam. “I never did see such a haggravating beast as you are, Ratty. Here, come along. It aint no wonder as fellows drinks, with a place offering ’em the stuff every five minutes of their lives, and when they’ve got a Ratty to lead ’em right up to it. Come on, will yer?”

Mrs Jenkles was standing at the door ready, in a blue bonnet and red Paisley shawl – for she was a woman of her word. She had said that she would go up and see those people, and Sam had promised to drive her.