Чёрный красавец

33 A London Cab Horse

           PollythoughtIwasveryhandsome,andagreatdealtoogoodforacab,ifitwasnotforthebrokenknees.

           “Ofcoursethere’snoonetotelluswhosefaultthatwas,”saidJerry,“andaslongasIdon’tknowIshallgivehimthebenefitofthedoubt;forafirmer,neaterstepperIneverrode.We’llcallhim’Jack’,aftertheoldone—shallwe,Polly?”

           “Do,”shesaid,“forIliketokeepagoodnamegoing.”

           Captainwentoutinthecaballthemorning.Harrycameinafterschooltofeedmeandgivemewater.IntheafternoonIwasputintothecab.JerrytookasmuchpainstoseeifthecollarandbridlefittedcomfortablyasifhehadbeenJohnManlyoveragain.Whenthecrupperwasletoutaholeortwoitallfittedwell.Therewasnocheck-rein,nocurb,nothingbutaplainringsnaffle.Whatablessingthatwas!

           AfterdrivingthroughthesidestreetwecametothelargecabstandwhereJerryhadsaid“Good-night”.Ononesideofthiswidestreetwerehighhouseswithwonderfulshopfronts,andontheotherwasanoldchurchandchurchyard,surroundedbyironpalisades.Alongsidetheseironrailsanumberofcabsweredrawnup,waitingforpassengers;bitsofhaywerelyingaboutontheground;someofthemenwerestandingtogethertalking;someweresittingontheirboxesreadingthenewspaper;andoneortwowerefeedingtheirhorseswithbitsofhay,andgivingthemadrinkofwater.Wepulledupintherankatthebackofthelastcab.Twoorthreemencameroundandbegantolookatmeandpasstheirremarks.

           “Verygoodforafuneral,”saidone.

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