Jacobs scratched his head, then he pulled his forelock, and blushed very deeply.
"The masther, bless him, has taken the carriage and horse. He's away with Masther Dominic. May the Almighty kape him."
"Your master away?" exclaimed the astonished woman.
"Yes'm. I'm thinking it's to Kingsala he's gone. Terry is driving, and Masther Dominic and himself are seated inside the phaeton as cosy as you plaze. The masther axed me two days back'm if I wouldn't re-paint the carriage, for I'm what's called Good Job by some people. There ain't nothing I can't turn my hand to, so I ses to himself, 'Masther,' ses I, 'you get me the combustibles, and I'll do it up foine.'"
"I don't want to hear your wretched stories, Jacobs," said the angry lady. "That carriage and horse belong to me. I wish to take a drive. You have got to get me something else immediately. I must say it was extremely rude of the Rector to dare to use my carriage without my permission."
"Rude of 'himself'! Why, ain't ye his wife, missus?"
"Hold your tongue, you impertinent lad, you and your combustibles! You can't even talk English. But now listen to me. I shall not go to Kingsala to-day. I shall pay a call on my old friend Colonel Herbert at Rathclaren. He will tell me what to do. Rathclaren is quite nine miles from here, so you must get me a carriage of some sort and a horse. Do you hear, Jacobs?"
"Well," said Jacobs, "if ye ain't frighted, y'ladyship, I could run round to Farmer Barrett's. He has a young colt, The O'Shee by name, and he'd lend ye the dog-cart and colt and be proud to do it I'm sure."
"Is that the colt they are training for the races?" said the lady.
"He is that same, and is not broke in to say wholly, m'lady; but he'll do the distance from here to Rathclaren in a twink; that is, if ye'll put up with me a-drivin' of him, and him startin' and buck-jumping. Ye were allus one to be brave, m'lady, and we'll get to Rathclaren in no time at all, if you, so to spake, utters the word."