Some Do Not … Ford Madox Ford (top ten ebook reader TXT) 📖

as well⁠ ⁠… But I’ll sell this whole lot for you tomorrow.”

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 basket-work 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 forever.⁠ ⁠…”

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 turnout of 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 bit o’ lewth ’longside stable wall,” the driver muttered.

“Well! he didn’t like waiting,” Tietjens said placably. “You can be thankful your old neck’s not broken. Do this band up, one hole less for the bit I’ve taken in.”

He prepared to climb into the driver’s seat, but Mrs. Wannop was there before him, at an improbable altitude on the sloping watch-box with strapped cushions.

“Oh, no, you don’t,” she said, “no one drives me and my horse but me or my coachman when I’m about. Not even you, dear boy.”

“I’ll come with you then,” Tietjens said.

“Oh, no, you don’t,” she answered. “No one’s neck’s to be broken in this conveyance but mine and Joel’s,” she added: “perhaps tonight if I’m satisfied the horse is fit to drive.”

Miss Wannop suddenly exclaimed:

“Oh, no, mother.” But the handy man having climbed in, Mrs. Wannop flirted her whip and started the horse. She pulled up at once and leaned over to Tietjens:

“What a life for that poor woman,” she said. “We must all do all we can for her. She could have her husband put in a lunatic asylum tomorrow. It’s sheer self-sacrifice that she doesn’t.”

The horse went off at a gentle, regular trot.

Tietjens addressed Miss Wannop:

“What hands your mother’s got,” he said, “it isn’t often one sees a woman with hands like that on a horse’s mouth.⁠ ⁠… Did you see how she pulled up?⁠ ⁠…”

He was aware that, all this while, from the roadside, the girl had been watching him with shining eyes: intently even: with fascination.

“I suppose you think that a mighty fine performance,” she said.

“I didn’t make a very good job of the girth,” he said. “Let’s get off this road.”

“Setting poor, weak women in their places,” Miss Wannop continued. “Soothing the horse like a man with a charm. I suppose you soothe women like that too. I pity your wife.⁠ ⁠… The English country male! And making a devoted vassal at sight of the handy man. The feudal system all complete.⁠ ⁠…”

Tietjens said:

“Well, you know, it’ll make him all the better servant to you if he thinks you’ve friends in the know. The lower classes are like that. Let’s get off this road.”

She said:

“You’re in a mighty hurry to get behind the hedge. Are the police after us or aren’t they? Perhaps you were lying at breakfast: to calm the hysterial nerves of a weak woman.”

“I wasn’t lying,” he said, “but I hate roads when there are field-paths⁠ ⁠…”

“That’s a phobia, like any woman’s,” she exclaimed.

She almost ran through the kissing-gate and stood awaiting him:

“I suppose,” she said, “if you’ve stopped off the police with your high and mighty male ways you think you’ve destroyed my romantic young dream. You haven’t. I don’t want the police after me. I believe I’d die if they put me in Wandsworth⁠ ⁠… I’m a coward.”

“Oh, no, you aren’t,” he said, but he was following his own train of thought, just as she wasn’t in the least listening to him. “I daresay you’re a heroine all right. Not because you persevere in actions the consequences of which you fear. But I daresay you can touch pitch and not be defiled.”

Being too well brought up to interrupt she waited till he had said all he wanted to say, then she exclaimed:

“Let’s settle the preliminaries. It’s obvious mother means us to see a great deal of you. You’re going to be a mascot too, like your father. I suppose you think you are: you saved me from the police yesterday, you appear to have saved mother’s neck today. You appear, too, to be going to make twenty pounds profit on a horse deal. You say you will and you seem to be that sort of a person⁠ ⁠… Twenty pounds is no end in a family like ours⁠ ⁠… Well, then, you appear to be going to be the regular bel ami of the Wannop family⁠ ⁠…”

Tietjens said:

“I hope not.”

“Oh, I don’t mean,” she said, “that you’re going to rise to fame by making love to all the women of the Wannop family. Besides, there’s only me. But mother will press you into all sorts of odd jobs: and there will always be a plate for you at the table. Don’t shudder! I’m a regular good cook⁠—cuisine bourgeoise of course.