Ne'er Do Well Read Free Page B

examples to follow, nothing whatever to strive for except existence itself. Life will be painfully dull. And those in power will treat all the others like dirt. And then, after much tribulation and many years, the great days will come again.”
    â€œThe price of equalization,” said Nol, “is painfully high.”
    There was a little silence.
    â€œI remember,” said I, “the first time I saw White Ladies…”
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    On the following morning, Tuesday, Mansel and I were in the coach-house, considering the dog-cart and gig.
    â€œNot many left,” said Mansel. “And there used to be thousands. I suppose they were all dismantled or broken up.”
    â€œThe gig came from Cockcrow,” I said. “I bought it through Shere, when old Lord Scarlet died. It was George that got the dog-cart – I can’t remember where.”
    â€œAnd as good as new,” said Mansel. “They built stuff that lasted then. The broughams, too! What exquisite things they were.”
    Jenny came stepping across the stable-yard.
    â€œDarling,” she said, “Beecham’s rung up from Clarion, to ask if I’ll come.”
    Beecham was a very good vet.
    â€œIf it’s Adamant,” I said, “you’re not going. I’ve only one wife.”
    Mansel looked at me, and Jenny put a hand to her mouth.
    â€œWho’s Adamant?” said Mansel.
    I sighed.
    â€œAdamant,” said I, “is a stallion. He’s Colin Delaney’s pet. But for Adamant’s temper, he might have made a great name: but he does very well as a sire. The trouble is he’s a rogue. And when the fit is on him, he’s really dangerous. He’s damned near killed one lad and he’s maimed another for life.”
    â€œI know,” said Jenny, “I know. But he is such a lovely fellow. I know he goes off the deep end, but that’s only because he’s so terribly highly strung. Come with me, darling, and tell me what I may do.”
    All three of us drove to Clarion, a very pleasant establishment, sunk in the downs.
    As I brought the car to a standstill, Colin Delaney came forward, with Beecham behind.
    â€œWhat’s the trouble, Colin?” I said.
    â€œIt’s his eye,” said Colin. “It’s shut and weeping and sending him out of his mind. The trouble is, of course, he won’t let us look.”
    â€œHe’s got something in it,” said Beecham. “It may be only a seed. But you know what Adamant is. I can’t get anywhere near him. As for everting the eyelid…”
    He threw up his hands.
    â€œLet me talk to him,” said Jenny.
    â€œVery well,” said I. “But please don’t ask me to let you go into his box.”
    â€œI wouldn’t let her,” said Colin.
    The five of us made our way to Adamant’s box.
    The upper leaf of the stable-door was open: when we peered cautiously in, a truly pitiful picture met our eyes. The embodiment of defiance, the magnificent black was standing with his quarters to the opposite wall. His glorious head was up, and he made me think of some warrior facing death. His right eye was flaming – there is no other word. But the left was closed and twitching, and tears were steadily trickling over his jowl. As Jenny came up to the door, I moved directly behind her, holding her body lightly under the arms and ready to throw her in an instant to right or left. At a nod from me, Colin Delaney and Beecham stood, one upon either side, all ready to catch my wife. Mansel was a little behind us, standing perfectly still. And so we all stood in silence for two or three minutes or more.
    Then –
    â€œWhy, Adamant,” said Jenny: “I’ve come to help you out. I got a fly in my eye about a month ago, and it hurt like anything. I couldn’t get it out – that’s one of the things that no one can do for himself. But Richard got it out for me, and then I was quite all