Now I already knew that the Basin way of proceeding to get a nail put
in the horse's shoe meant a day of widely excursive incident and
pleasure, in which the main or stated object was cast far from our
poetical vision. I accepted.
"My woman invited Miss Lester to go with us. The old double-decker
rides easier for havin' consid'rable ballast, ye know--and Miss Lester
tips her at nigh onto about two hunderd; she 's a widder too, ain't
she, by the way? but she 's clost onto sixty-seven; hain't no thoughts
o' splicin', in course. Miss Lester 's a vary sensible woman. But I
thought cruisin' 'round with her kind o' frien'ly on the back seat, ye
might git a sort of a token or a consute in general o' what widders is."
"True," said I gratefully, with flattered meditation.
"It 's a scand'lous windy kentry to keep anything on the clo's-line,"
said the captain, as we walked on together, sadly gathering up one of
his stockings and a still more inseparable companion of his earthly
pilgrimage from the path.
"What 's the time, major?" said he, as he led me into the kitchen, "or
do you take her by the sun? I had Leezur up here a couple o' days to
mend my clock. 'Pharo,' says he, 'thar 's too much friction in her.'
So, by clam! he took out most of her insides and laid 'em by, and
poured some ile over what they was left, and thar' she stands! She
couldn't tick to save her void and 'tarnal emptiness. 'Forced-to-go
never gits far,' says Leezur, he says--'ye know.'"
Captain Pharo and I, standing by the wood-box, nudged each other with
delight over this conceit.
"'Forced-to-go never gets far, you know,'" said I.
"'Forced-to-go,'" began Captain Pharo, but was rudely haled away by
Mrs. Pharo Kobbe, to dress.
That was another thing; apparently they could never get me to the house
early enough, pleased that I should witness all their preparations.
They led me to the sofa, and Mrs. Kobbe came and combed out her
hair--pretty, long, woman's hair--in the looking-glass, over me; and
then Captain Pharo came and parted his hair down the back and brushed
it out rakishly both sides, over me. Usually I saw the children
dressed; they were at school. It was too tender a thought for
explanation, this way of taking me with brotherly fondness to the
family bosom.
"How do you like Cap'n Pharo's new blouse?" said his wife.
In truth I hardly knew how to express my emotions; while he sniffed
with affected disdain of his own brightness and beauty, I was so
dim-looking, in comparison, sitting there!
"When I took up the old carpet this spring, I found sech a bright piece
under the bed, that I jest took and made cap'n a blouse of her--and
wal, thar? what do you think?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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