son._

_C.G._ (_smiling apologetically_). Not exactly palatial premises for
an animal used to _my_ stables at Wickham-in-the-Wold! But I know
these people, Sir; they are kind as Christians, and as honest as
the day. Hoy! TOM! TOM!! TOM!!! Are you there, TOM? [_From the shed
emerges a very small boy with very short hair, and a very long livery,
several sizes too large for him, the tail of the brass-buttoned coat
and the bottoms of the baggy trousers alike sweeping the cobbles as
he shambles forward_]. (_C.G. genially_.) Ah, there you are, TOM, my
lad. Bring out dear old _Bogey_, and show it to my friend here. [_Boy
leads out a rusty roan Rosinante, high in bone, and low in flesh,
with prominent hocks, and splay hoofs, which stumble gingerly over the
cobbles._] (_Patting the horse affectionately._) Ah, poor old _Bogey_,
he doesn't like these lumpy stones, does he? Not used to them, Sir.
My stable-yard at Wickham-in-the-Wold, is as smoothly paved as--as the
Alhambra, Sir. I always _consider_ my animals, Sir. A merciful man is
merciful to his beast, as the good book says. But _isn't_ he a Beauty?

_I.P._ Well--ahem!--ye-es; he looks a kind, gentle, steady sort of a
creature. But--ahem!--what's the matter with his knees?

_C.G._ Oh, nothing, Sir, nothing at all. Only a habit he has got
_along of kind treatment_. Like us when we "stand at ease," you know,
a bit baggy, that's all. You should see him after a twenty miles
spin along our Wickham roads, when my wife and I are doing a round
of visits among the neighbouring gentry. Ah, _Bogey, Bogey_, old
boy--_kissing his nose_--I don't know what Mrs. G. and the girls will
say when they hear I've parted with you--if I do, _if_ I do.

_Enter two horsey-looking Men as though in search of
something._

_First Horsey Man_. Ah, here you are. Well, look 'ere, are you going
to take Thirty Pounds for that horse o' yourn? Yes or No!

_C.G._ (_turning upon them with dignity_). _No_, Sir; most
emphatically _No!_ I've told you before I will not sell him to you
at _any_ price. Have the goodness to leave us--_at once_, I'm engaged
with my friend here.

[_Horsey Men turn away despondently. Enter hurriedly, a
shabby-looking Groom._

_Groom_. Oh, look here, Mister--er--er--wot's yer name? His
Lordship wants to know whether you'll take his offer of Thirty-five
Pounds--_or_ Guineas--for that roan. He wouldn't offer as much, only
it happens jest to match--

_C.G._ (_with gre