 hard cash, his account with a certain vintner and
distiller in the city of London; to give into whose hands a canvas bag
containing its exact amount, and not a penny more or less, was the end and
object of a journey for Joe, so surely as the year and day came round.
    This journey was performed upon an old grey mare, concerning whom John had
an indistinct set of ideas hovering about him, to the effect that she could win
a plate or cup if she tried. She never had tried, and probably never would now,
being some fourteen or fifteen years of age, short in wind, long in body, and
rather the worse for wear in respect of her mane and tail. Notwithstanding these
slight defects, John perfectly gloried in the animal; and when she was brought
round to the door by Hugh, actually retired into the bar, and there, in a secret
grove of lemons, laughed with pride.
    »There's a bit of horseflesh, Hugh!« said John, when he had recovered enough
self-command to appear at the door again. »There's a comely creature! There's
high mettle! There's bone!«
    There was bone enough beyond all doubt; and so Hugh seemed to think, as he
sat sideways in the saddle, lazily doubled up with his chin nearly touching his
knees; and heedless of the dangling stirrups and loose bridle-rein, sauntered up
and down on the little green before the door.
    »Mind you take good care of her, sir,« said John, appealing from this
insensible person to his son and heir, who now appeared, fully equipped and
ready. »Don't you ride hard.«
    »I should be puzzled to do that, I think, father,« Joe replied, casting a
disconsolate look at the animal.
    »None of your impudence, sir, if you please,« retorted old John. »What would
you ride, sir? A wild ass or zebra would be too tame for you, wouldn't he, eh,
sir? You'd like to ride a roaring lion, wouldn't you, sir, eh, sir? Hold your
tongue, sir.« When Mr. Willet, in his differences with his son, had exhausted
all the questions that occurred to him, and Joe had said nothing at all in
answer, he generally wound up by bidding him hold his tongue.
    »And what does the boy mean,« added Mr. Willet, after he had stared at him
for a
