ABOUT BUYING A HORSE. 117 



gardener, and nothing but a gardener, suddenly tries to look 

 as much like a groom as possible. He is an honest, good- 

 tempered, slouchy, clodhopping sort of man, not brilliant, 

 but what my Aunt calls " worthy and honest," and I think 

 old Doddridge has set her cap (such a cap !) at him. 



He is as near sixty as it is possible for any one to be with- 

 out seeing fifty-seven again. And so for the matter of that 

 is Doddridge. 



" You can manage him, Murgle ? " I say to him, doubtfully. 

 I fancy that though he puts on a bold front, Murgle is really 

 afraid of the cob. 



Murgle smiles more to himself than me, as if it were 

 absurd on my part to ask him such a question as that. 



The crowd in the road has now dwindled down to only 

 five or six loafers with pipes. I think I catch them nudging 

 one another and grinning. They've known old Murgle for 

 years. They're either sneering at his pretending to be a 

 groom, or at me for having gone so far towards purchasing 

 the horse. 



Jarvis says, carelessly, " I'll call in on you to-morrow 

 evening or the day after," and, Jarvis's hand having touched 

 Jarvis's straw-hat by way of saluting my Aunt, Jarvis's legs 

 take him off, at an easy, sauntering pace, down the lane. 



Murgle retires with the cob into the stable, and I hear a 

 great deal of "way," " woa," "stand still then, will yer?" 

 " Get up ! " and so forth, given in a tone sufficiently loud 

 to reach me in the garden. Murgle evidently is implying, 

 "There ! I know how to talk to a horse, you see. (Way ! 

 woa !) What, me not know how to get on with a horse ! 



