A tall bony woman—straight all the way down—in a coarse blue pelisse, with the waist an inch or two below her armpits, 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 afeered on it.”
“Afraid!” exclaimed Mr. Pickwick, “what’s the woman afraid of?”
“It got us into trouble last time,” said the woman, turning into the house; “I woant have nothin’ to say to ’un.”
“Most extraordinary thing I ever met with in my life,” said the astonished Mr. Pickwick.
“I—I—really believe,” whispered Mr. Winkle, as his friends gathered round him, “that they think we have come by this horse in some dishonest manner.”
“What!” exclaimed Mr. Pickwick, in a storm of indignation. Mr. Winkle modestly repeated his suggestion.
“Hallo, you fellow!” said the angry Mr. Pickwick, “do you think we stole this horse?”