Hope smiled, and told Mr Grey that he had rather sell his horse at a distance. Mr Walcot had already hired the boy Charles, whom Hope had just dismissed; and if he obtained the horse too, the old servant who knew his way to every patient's door, all the country round--it really would look too like the unpopular man patronising his opponent. Besides, it would be needlessly publishing in Deerbrook that the horse was given up. "What is the fault of your horse?" asked Mr Grey, rousing himself from an absent fit. "Merely that he eats, and therefore is expensive. I cannot afford now to keep a horse," he declared, in answer to Mr Grey's stare of amazement. "I have so few patients now out of walking reach, that I have no right to keep a horse. I can always hire, you know, from Reeves." "Upon my soul, I am sorry to hear this--extremely sorry to hear it. Matters must have gone further than I had any idea of. My dear fellow, we must see how we can serve you. You must let me accommodate you-- indeed you must--rather than give up your horse." "Do not speak of it. You are very kind; but we need no help, I do assure you. My mind is quite made up about the horse. It would only be an incumbrance now. And, to satisfy you, I will mention that I have declined repeated offers of accommodation--offers very strongly urged. All I need ask of you is, to help me to dispose of my horse, somewhere out of Deerbrook." "I will manage that for you, the next time I go to market; and--" In the emotion of the moment, Mr Grey was on the point of offering the use of his own horse when it should be at home: but he stopped short on the verge of his rash generosity. He was very particular about no one riding his horse but himself and the man who groomed it: he remembered his friend Hope's rapid riding and `enthusiasm' and suspected that he should sooner or later repent the offer: so he changed it into, "I will get your horse disposed of to the best advantage, you may depend upon it. But I am very sorry--very sorry, indeed."