‘No, ‘tain’t.’ Having uttered this brief reply, and apparently satisfied himself with another scrutiny, the red-headed man resumed his work. ‘We want to put this horse up here,’ said Mr. Pickwick; ‘I suppose we can, can’t we?’
Want to put that ere horse up, do ee?’ repeated the red-headed man, leaning on his spade.
‘Of course,’ replied Mr. Pickwick, who had by this time advanced, horse in hand, to the garden rails.
‘Missus’—roared the man with the red head, emerging from the garden, and looking very hard at the horse—‘missus!’
A tall, bony woman—straight all the way down—in a coarse, blue pelisse, with the waist an inch or two below her arm-pits, responded to the call.
‘Can we put this horse up here, my good woman?’ said Mr. Tupman, advancing, and speaking in his most seductive tones. The woman looked very hard at the whole party; and the red-headed man whispered something in her ear.
‘No,’ replied the woman, after a little consideration, ‘I’m afeerd on it.’
‘Afraid!’ exclaimed Mr. Pickwick, ‘what’s the woman afraid of?’
‘It got us in trouble last time,’ said the woman, turning into the house; ‘I woan’t have nothin’ to say to ‘un.’
‘Most extraordinary thing I have ever met with in my life,’ said the astonished Mr. Pickwick.