He was quite right; I
wasn't. I was feeling just about dead beat.
"'What do you think you are?' he continued, 'the charge of the Light
Brigade?' (He was a common sort of fellow.) 'Who sent YOU home with
the washing?'
"Well, he was making me wild by this time. 'What's the good of
talking to me?' I shouted back. 'Come and blackguard the pony if
you want to blackguard anybody. I've got all I can do without the
help of that alarm clock of yours. Go away, you're only making him
worse.'
"'What's the matter with the pony?' he called out.
"'Can't you see?' I answered. 'He's drunk.'
"Well, of course it sounded foolish; the truth often does.
"'One of you's drunk,' he retorted; 'for two pins I'd come and haul
you out of the cart.'
"I wish to goodness he had; I'd have given something to be out of
that cart. But he didn't have the chance. At that moment the pony
gave a sudden swerve; and I take it he must have been a bit too
close. I heard a yell and a curse, and at the same instant I was
splashed from head to foot with ditch water. Then the brute bolted.
A man was coming along, asleep on the top of a cart-load of windsor
chairs. It's disgraceful the way those wagoners go to sleep; I
wonder there are not more accidents.
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