“No, thank you.”
“Perhaps, the other lady——” It will be seen that I was getting extremely gallant.
“No, thank you; no more,” interrupted the other lady.
They had been driving in the country—driving at a lively pace, probably—and I noticed that the horse was perspiring and looked tired and thirsty; so, my humanity being fully equal to my gallantry, I said:
“Here is a bucket at the pump—perhaps your horse would—”
“O, you couldn’t——”
“Yes, I can easily give the animal a bucket of water.” And I set the bucket under the spout.
“If I thought you could, easily——”
“I can, I assure you.”
I pumped the bucket full in three seconds and a fraction, picked it up and held it to the mouth of the “noble steed.” He drank it, seemed satisfied, and looked volumes of thanks at me with his big eyes. Considering my mission at an end, I set the bucket down, and stood by the pump in a position favorable to touching my cap gracefully to the ladies as they should thank me and drive off, which I supposed they would now do. But here comes the mortifying part. One of the ladies held out her hand. Was she going to shake hands with me and bid me an affectionate farewell? No. My brain reeled, as I looked closer at the hand.