Chapter XLVIII: Rougier’s Mysterious Lodgings—the Gift Horse

MR. Gallon’s liberality after the race with Mr. Flintoff was so
great that Monsieur Rougier was quite overcome with his kindness
and had to be put to bed at the last public-house they stopped
at, viz.—the sign of the Nightingale on the Ashworth road.
Independently of the brandy not being particularly good, Jack
took so much of it that he slept the clock round, and it was past
nine the next morning ere he awoke. It then took him good twenty
minutes to make out where he was; he first of all thought he was
at Boulogne, then in Paris, next at the Lord Warden Hotel at
Dover, and lastly at the Coal-hole in the Strand.

Presently the recollection of the race began to dawn upon him—the
red jacket—the grey horse, Cuddy in distress, and gradually he
recalled the general outline of the performance, but he could not
fill it up so as to make a connected whole, or to say where he
was.

He then looked at his watch, and finding it was half-past four,
he concluded it had stopped,—an opinion that was confirmed on
holding it to his ear; so without more ado, he bounded out of bed
in a way that nearly sent him through the gaping boards of the
dry-rotting floor of the little attic in which they had laid him.
He then made his way to the roof-raised window to see what was
outside. A fine wet muddy road shone below him, along which a
straw-cart was rolling; beyond the road was a pasture, then a
turnip field; after which came a succession of green, brown, and
drab fields, alternating and undulating away to the horizon,
varied with here and there a belt or tuft of wood. Jack was no
wiser than he was, but hearing sounds below, he made for the
door, and opening the little flimsy barrier stood listening like
a terrier with its ear at a rat-hole. These were female voices,
and he thus addressed them—“I say, who’s there? Theodosia, my
dear,” continued he, speaking down stairs, “vot’s de time o’ day,
my sweet?”

The lady thus addressed as Theodosia was Mrs. Windybank, a very
forbidding tiger-faced looking woman, desperately pitted with the
small-pox, who was not in the best of humours in consequence of
the cat having got to the cream-bowl; so all the answer she made
to Jack’s polite enquiry was, “Most ten.”

“Most ten!” repeated Jack, “most ten! how the doose can that be?”

“It is hooiver,” replied she, adding, “you may look if you like.”

“No, my dear, I’ll take your word for it,” replied Jack; “but
tell me, Susannah,” continued he, “whose house is this I’m at?”

“Whose house is’t?” replied the voice; “whose house is’t? why,
Jonathan Windybank’s—you knar that as well as I do.”

“De lady’s not pleasant,” muttered Jack to himself; so returning
into the room, he began to array himself in his yesterday’s
garments, Mr. Gallon’s boots and leathers, his own coat with
Finlater’s cap, in which he presently came creaking down stairs
and confronted the beauty with whom he had had the flying
colloquy. The interview not being at all to her advantage, and as
she totally denied all knowledge of Pangburn Park, and “de great
Baronet vot kept the spotted dogs,” Monsieur set off on foot to
seek it; and after divers askings, mistakings, and deviations, he
at length arrived on Rossington hill just as the servants’ hall
dinner-bell was ringing, the walk being much to the detriment of
Mr. Gallon’s boots.

In consequence of Monsieur’s _laches_, as the lawyers would say,
Mr. Pringle was thrown on the resources of the house the next
morning; but Sir Moses being determined to carry out his
intention with regard to the horse, sent the footman to remind
Billy that he was going to hunt, and to get him his things if
required. So our friend was obliged to adorn for the chase
instead of retiring from further exertion in that line as he
intended; and with the aid of the footman he made a very
satisfactory toilette,—his smart scarlet, a buff vest, a green
cravat, correct shirt-collar, with unimpeachable leathers and
boots.

Though this was the make-believe day of the week, Sir Moses was
all hurry and bustle as usual, and greeted our hero as he came
down stairs with the greatest enthusiasm, promising, of all
things in the world! to show him a run.

“Now bring breakfast! bring breakfast!” continued he, as if they
had got twenty miles to go to cover; and in came urn and eggs,
and ham, and cakes, and tongue, and toast, and buns, all the
concomitants of the meal.—At it Sir Moses went as if he had only
ten minutes to eat it in, inviting his guest to fall-to also.

Just as they were in the midst of the meal a horse was heard to
snort outside, and on looking up the great Lord Mayor was seen
passing up the Park.

“Ah, there’s your horse!” exclaimed Sir Moses, “there’s your
horse! been down to the shop to get his shoes looked to,” though
in reality Sir Moses had told the groom to do just what he was
doing, viz.—to pass him before the house at breakfast-time
without his clothing.

The Lord Mayor was indeed a sort of horse that a youngster might
well be taken in with, grey, with a beautiful head and neck, and
an elegantly set-on tail. He stepped out freely and gaily, and
looked as lively as a lark.

He was, however, as great an impostor as Napoleon the Great; for,
independently of being troubled with the Megrims, he was a
shocking bad hack, and a very few fields shut him up as a hunter.

“Well now,” said Sir Moses, pausing in his meal, with the
uplifted knife and fork of admiration, “that, to my mind, is the
handsomest horse in the country,—I don’t care where the next
handsomest is.—Just look at his figure, just look at his
action.—Did you ever see anything so elegant? To my mind he’s as
near perfection as possible, and what’s more, he’s as good as he
looks, and all I’ve got to say is, that you are most heartily
welcome to him.”

“O, thank’e,” replied Billy, “thank’e, but I couldn’t think of
accepting him,—I couldn’t think of accepting him indeed.”

“O, but you shall,” said Sir Moses, resuming his eating, “O but
you shall, so there’s an end of the matter.—And now have some
more tea,” whereupon he proceeded to charge Billy’s cup in the
awkward sort of way men generally do when they meddle with the
tea-pot.

Sir Moses, having now devoured his own meal, ran off to his
study, telling Billy he would call him when it was time to go,
and our friend proceeded to dandle and saunter, and think what he
would do with his gift horse. He was certainly a handsome
one—handsomer than Napoleon, and grey was a smarter colour than
bay—might not be quite so convenient for riding across country
on, seeing the color was conspicuous, but for a hot day in the
Park nothing could be more cool or delightful. And he thought it
was extremely handsome of Sir Moses giving it to him, more, he
felt, than nine-tenths of the people in the world would have
done.

Our friend’s reverie was presently interrupted by Sir Moses
darting back, pen and paper in hand, exclaiming, “I’ll tell ye
what, my dear Pringle! I’ll tell ye what! there shall be no
obligation, and you shall give me fifty puns for the grey and pay
for him when you please. But _mark_ me!” added he, holding up his
forefinger and looking most scrutinisingly at our friend, “_Only
on one condition, mind! only on one condition, mind!_ that you
give me the refusal of him if ever you want to part with him;”
and without waiting for an answer, he placed the paper before our
friend, and handing him the pen, said, “There, then, sign that I.
O. U.” And Billy having signed it, Sir Moses snatched it up and
disappeared, leaving our friend to a renewal of his cogitations.

365m

_Original Size_

Sir Moses having accomplished the grand “do,” next thought he
would back out of the loan of the dog-cart. For this purpose he
again came hurrying back, pen in hand, exclaiming, “Oh dear, he
was so sorry, but it had just occurred to him that he wanted the
mare to go to Lord Lundyfoote’s; however, I’ll make it all
square, I’ll make it all square,” continued he; “I’ll tell
Jenkins, the postman, to send a fly as soon as he gets to Hinton,
which, I make no doubt, will be here by the time we come in from
hunting, and it will take you and your traps all snug and
comfortable; for a dog-cart, after all, is but a chilly concern
at this time of year, and I shouldn’t like you to catch cold
going from my house;” and without waiting for an answer, he
pulled-to the door and hurried back to his den. Billy shook his
head, for he didn’t like being put off that way, and muttered to
himself, “I wonder who’ll pay for it though.” However, on
reflection, he thought perhaps he would be as comfortable in a
fly as finding his way across country on horseback; and as he had
now ascertained that Monsieur could ride, whether or not he could
drive, he settled that he might just as well take the grey to
Yammerton Grange as not. This then threw him back on his position
with regard to the horse, which was not so favourable as it at
first appeared; indeed, he questioned whether he had done wisely
in signing the paper, his Mamma having always cautioned him to be
careful how he put his name to anything. Still, he felt he
couldn’t have got off without offending Sir Moses; and after all,
it was more like a loan than a sale, seeing that he had not paid
for him, and Sir Moses would take him back if he liked.
Altogether he thought he might be worse off, and, considering
that Lord Tootleton had given three hundred for the horse, he
certainly must be worth fifty. There is nothing so deceiving as
price. Only tell a youngster that a horse has cost a large sum,
and he immediately looks at him, while he would pass him by if he
stood at a low figure. Having belonged to a lord, too, made him
so much more acceptable to Billy.

A loud crack of a whip, accompanied by a “Now, Pringle!”
presently resounded through the house, and our friend again found
himself called upon to engage in an act of horsemanship.

“Coming!” cried he, starting from the little mirror above the
scanty grey marble mantel-piece, in which he was contemplating
his moustachios; “Coming!” and away he strode, with the desperate
energy of a man bent on braving the worst. His cap, whip, gloves,
and mits, were all laid ready for him on the entrance hall-table;
and seizing them in a cluster, he proceeded to decorate himself
as he followed Sir Moses along the intricate passages leading to
the stable-yard.