Little Mr Bouncer and His Friend Verdant Green/Chapter 25
CHAPTER XXV.
LITTLE MR. BOUNCER IS LANDED AT THE "LITTLE VILLAGE."
ASTENING from the shop of the too communicative hair dresser, and leaving to future customers the task of discovering the exact dimensions of the spacious hair-cutting saloons of Mr. Quickfall, and also to identify the competent staff of assistants from London and Paris, who, together with the spacious saloons, had not been visible to the naked eye of Mr. Bouncer—that gentleman made the best of his way through the little market-town to the Barham Railway Station. As he did so, and thought of his half-cropped head of hair, the following scene was vividly recalled to his memory.
One morning, after lectures for the day were over, he had gone into Verdant Green's rooms, and, after consoling himself with a pipe, had said, "Giglamps, old fellow! I vote we do the pretty gee-gees this afternoon!"
"What do you mean?" asked Verdant, who had not yet become fully acquainted with his friend's peculiar phraseology.
"Why, have a ride instead of taking a constitutional," explained Mr. Bouncer.
"Oh, certainly; all right! I shall be delighted," said Verdant.
"Then, if you 're delighted, and if I 'm delighted also," observed Mr. Bouncer, "we shall be like Ingoldsby's 'Babes in the Wood'—
'The two little dears were delighted
To think they a cock-horse should ride,
And were not in the least degree frighted.'
You won't be frighted to ride a cock-horse now, shall you? now that you have got that easy-going old screw—no! we won't call him a screw! we 'll say, that noble steed of Charley Symonds. He 's warranted not to toss you up without catching you again, is n't he? and he carries you as though you were sitting in an easy-chair without any stuffing in the cushions, does n't he? If you keep your seat as well as you contrived to do when we went to Woodstock the other day, I expect you 'll be bursting into verse, like Eliza Cook in breeches, with something of this sort—
I love it, I love it, and who can tear
My seat from C. Symonds's old bay mare!
Singing 's thirsty work, Giglamps. Why don't you order some beer, you ungrateful wretch? Shall I holloa for Robert?"
Mr. Verdant Green gave the required permission; and Mr. Filcher, after much shouting, eventually brought the desired refreshment "Well," said Mr. Bouncer, when he had quenched his thirst and ended his smoke, "I 'll get my usual hack at Tollitt's, and join you at Symonds's after lunch, and we 'll have a canter somewhere, and, perhaps, a decanter afterwards. There 's a fine old crusted joke for you! We can supply them to you at thirteen to the dozen; country orders executed with promptitude and despatch. Well, ta-ta, Giglamps! you 'll be on the look-out for me at the gateway in Holywell Street, won't you, my precious?"
So it was agreed upon. But, when Mr. Bouncer went to Tollitt's, he could not get a hack. For some reason, there was a great demand for them that day.
"It 's what we may call a haccident, Mr. Bouncer!" said the stable-man.
"A hack-sident, did you say? Why, you 're setting up quite for a wit, Joe! we must call you Joe Miller, if this sort of thing goes on. You 'll be saying next that, instead of the horses running, there 's a run upon the horses." The stable-man grinned. Mr. Bouncer was a favourite, and was generally good for a glass.
The little gentleman went on to Pigg's; but, every horse in those stables was engaged, except one that was being clipped. The operator had just finished one side of the animal, and was about to begin work on the other side, when Mr. Bouncer cried, "Hold hard, my man! I must have that horse."
"But, he's only half-clipped, sir!"
"Never mind! a sweater will do him good."
"But, he 'll look so queer!"
"Oh, never mind that. I 'll manage to present his broad-side view to the public, and they 'll never see that one side 's different from the other." So, despite further protestations on the part of Mr. Pigg's man, who was jealous for the honour of his master's stables, Mr. Bouncer had the horse saddled, and rode him to Holywell Street. He found Mr. Verdant Green in front of Symonds's gateway, waiting there on foot, being fearful to mount his steed before his friend's arrival, lest the horse should become fidgety with waiting, and bring him to grief, untimely. But, the easy-chair bay mare was quickly produced, and the two friends went for their ride; nor did Verdant notice the state of Mr. Bouncer's half-clipped horse; but, then, the eyesight of Mr. Verdant Green was not particularly good.
"Indeed, I have n't," replied Mr. Bouncer. "Giglamps will tell you it 's the werry identical. There is no deception, my little dear."
"But," said Charles Larkyns, "though you did n't see me, I chanced to see you, just as you and Verdant had turned out of Holywll Street; and I 'm perfectly sure that you were then on a mouse-colour; and this is a bay."
"A bay!" echoed Mr. Bouncer; "why where are your eyes, old boy? there must be some defect of vision. This is the mouse-coloured hack. What 'll you bet? a bottle of blacking?"
"I could lay you any odds that this is certainly a bay," said Charles Larkyns.
"Now, Giglamps, you shall decide!" said Mr. Bouncer, who was riding between the other two. "Is this a bay or a mouse-colour?"
"Oh, it is undoubtedly a mouse-colour!" said Verdant, judicially; as though he was an authority on all that related to horses.
"Well!" cried Charles Larkyns, "then all I can say is, I never saw a mouse-coloured before!"
"But, did you ever see one behind?" asked little Mr. Bouncer, as he took his hack a few paces in advance, and then slowly turned him round, in such a way that the clipped and unclipped sides were distinctly seen, and the subject of the dispute was at once made clear. Charles Larkyns declared that he would write a parody on the fables of "The Chameleon" and "The Knights and the Shield." It was evident that there could be two sides to every question, including that of a horse's colour.
Turning over this circumstance in his mind, little Mr. Bouncer rapidly made his way to the Barham Station. Intelligence had been received that the line was now cleared, and the train for London was expected every minute. He went to the sliding panel in the wooden screen, where, as in a frame, he saw the head and shoulders of the youthful and unwholesome-looking ticket-taker, whose aspect had suggested his living upon pickles. Then he released Huz and Buz from their detention in the lamp-and-grease room, and refused, on their, and his own, behalf, the proffer of more mutton-pies and ginger-beer from the peripatetic refreshment-room. Then the delayed train came, screaming through the deep cutting, and pulled up at the Barham platform, where Huz and Buz were hastily thrust into the guard's van, and Mr. Bouncer was, as speedily, hurried into a carriage, half filled with ladies and children, in whose company he was, of course, deprived of the solace of a smoke. This, however, did not affect his safe arrival in London; and, in due course, he found himself landed at "the little village," and, as he held Huz and Buz by their chain, replying to the porter's question, "'Ansom or four-wheel, sir?"