ABOUT BUYING A HORSE. 121 



next morning attending to my poor Grandmother, who, I 

 thought, couldn't have hved out the night." 



I am done — at once. I feel I've been brutal. To have 

 asked him to tear himself away from his dying Grand- 

 mother's bedside, in order to give his opinion of a friend's 

 horse — yes, it was too much. 



" I am sorry," I reply, sinking my subject of grief in his, 

 '•to hear such bad news of your Grandmother. Has she — I 

 mean is she ? " 



" Yes," says Gloppin, cheerfully, " she's all right now. Out, 

 and about. She's a wonderful woman for her age." 



" But," I ask, partially recovering from the first shock, 

 " why didn't you drop me a line of explanation ? " 



"My dear fellow," he replies, "how could I ? I couldn't 

 leave her for a moment. Your telegram arrived all right, 

 but they didn't like to disturb me, and of course they were 

 right ; and when I opened it, it was tco late to explain. I 

 could only reply, ' Can't come.' You got that, didn't you ? " 



Yes, I own I got that. And we are both satisfied. That 

 is, I accept his explanation. But, if I were to be asked, 

 what I thought, candidly speaking, on the subject, I should 

 be compelled on oath to reply, " I do 7iot believe in Gloppin's 

 Grandmother." 



Whtnever Gloppin doesn't want to do any thing that yoii 

 want him to do, his excuse is his Grandmother. 



Ask him to lend you five pounds : he can't, because his 

 money is somehow tied up in his Grandmother's, and he 

 can't ask his Grandmother, suddenly, to lend five pounds, 

 because she's liable to fits, if startled. 



