On the whole he is a good lad. I do not believe he ever flirts with the maids at the bars of the village inns when we buy our modest drop of beer or secure our ginger-ale. And I am certain he reads the Book, and says his prayers every night of his life.
So much for the crew of the Wanderer. Now for the live stock, my companions.
I have already said a word about my horses, Corn-flower and Pear-blossom. We know more about their individual characters now.
Nothing then in the world would annoy or put Corn-flower out of temper. Come hills or come valleys, on rough road and on smooth, walking or at the trot, he goes on with his head in the air, straight fore and aft, heeding nothing, simply doing his duty.
There is far more of the grace and poetry of motion about Pea-blossom. She bobs and tosses her head, and flicks her tail, looking altogether as proud as a hen with one chicken.
If touched with the whip, she immediately nibbles round at Corn-flower’s head, as much as to say, “Come on, can’t you, you lazy stick? There am I getting touched up with the whip all owing to you. You’re not doing your share of the work, and you know it.”
But Corn-flower never makes the slightest reply. Pea-blossom is a thorough type of the sex to which she belongs. She is jealous of Corn-flower, pretends not to like him. She would often kick him if she could, but if he is taken out of the stable, and she left, she will almost neigh the house down.
If in a field with Corn-flower, she is constantly imagining that he is getting all the best patches of grass and clover, and keeps nagging at him and chasing him from place to place.
But the contented Corn-flower does not retaliate. For Corn-flower’s motto is “Never mind.”