Some Experiences of an Irish R. M. by E. O. Somerville & Martin Ross

Author:E. O. Somerville & Martin Ross
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: J.S. Sanders books
Published: 1998-12-15T00:00:00+00:00

“Her grandsire was the Mountain Hare”

“The fellow’s asking forty-five pounds for her,” he said to Miss Sally; “she’s a nailer to gallop. I don’t think it’s too much?”

“Her grandsire was the Mountain Hare,” said the owner of the mare, hurrying up to continue her family history, “and he was the grandest horse in the four baronies. He was forty-two years of age when he died, and they waked him the same as ye’d wake a Christian. They had whisky and porther—and bread—and a piper in it.”

“Thim Mountain Hare colts is no great things,” interrupted Mr. Shute’s groom contemptuously. “I seen a colt once that was one of his stock, and if there was forty men and their wives, and they after him with sticks, he wouldn’t lep a sod of turf.”

“Lep, is it!” ejaculated the owner in a voice shrill with outrage. “You may lead that mare out through the counthry, and there isn’t a fence in it that she wouldn’t go up to it as indepindent as if she was going to her bed, and your honour’s ladyship knows that dam well, Miss Knox.”

“You want too much money for her, McCarthy,” returned Miss Sally, with her little air of preternatural wisdom.

“God pardon you, Miss Knox! Sure a lady like you knows well that forty-five pounds is no money for that mare. Forty-five pounds!” He laughed. “It’d be as good for me to make her a present to the gentleman all out as take three farthings less for her! She’s too grand entirely for a poor farmer like me, and if it wasn’t for the long weak family I have, I wouldn’t part with her under twice the money.”

“Three fine lumps of daughters in America paying his rent for him,” commented Flurry in the background. “That’s the long weak family!”

Bernard dismounted and slapped the mare’s ribs approvingly.

“I haven’t had such a gallop since I was at Rio,” he said. “What do you think of her, Miss Knox?” Then, without waiting for an answer, “I like her. I think I may as well give him the forty-five and have done with it!”

At these ingenuous words I saw a spasm of anguish cross the countenance of McCarthy, easily interpreted as the first pang of a life-long regret that he had not asked twice the money. Flurry Knox put up an eyebrow and winked at me; Mr. Shute’s groom turned away for very shame. Sally Knox laughed with the deplorable levity of nineteen.

Thus, with a brevity absolutely scandalous in the eyes of all beholders, the bargain was concluded.

Flurry strolled up to Philippa, observing an elaborate remoteness from Miss Sally and Mr. Shute.

“I believe I’m selling a horse here myself to-day,” he said; “would you like to have a look at him, Mrs. Yeates?”

“Oh, are you selling, Knox?” struck in Bernard, to whose brain the glory of buying a horse had obviously mounted like new wine; “I want another, and I know yours are the right sort.”

“Well, as you seem fond of galloping,” said Flurry sardonically, “this one might suit you.

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