Martin, to the Cat and Fiddle!"
The man touched his hat. "But I couldn't do that, sir. I couldn't run
to the Cat and Fiddle. It's long miles, sir. Shall I get a carriage?"
"Carriage!" cried the old man, and then he began to look about him.
Horror struck me. Perhaps they would go to the station for one! Just
then a boy driving a pony and a grocery cart came up.
"There you are, sir," I cried. "Hire that boy to tow you. Your butler
can sit in the back of the cart and hold the handle of your bath-chair.
It may take long to get a carriage, and the cart will go much faster.
You may overtake them in a mile."
Old Snortfrizzle never so much as thanked me or looked at me. He yelled
to the boy in the cart, offered him ten shillings and sixpence to give
him a tow, and in less time than I could take to write it, that flunky
with a high hat was sitting in the tail of the cart, the pony was going
at full gallop, and the old man's bath-chair was spinning on behind it
at a great rate.
I did not leave that spot--standing statue-like and looking along both
roads--until I heard the rumble of the departing train, and then I
repaired to the Old Hall, my soul uplifted. I found Jone in an awful
fluster about my being out so late; but I do stay pretty late sometimes
when I walk by myself, and so he hadn't anything new to say.
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