“Only three hundred and fifty dollars, with pole and shafts. Mr. Jones paid him four hundred for one just like it last week, but he says he wants yer honor to give him a chance. There’s nothing but the best of stuff gone into it. He puts on new patent clips; and the painting is the loveliest blue and red that iver was seen.”
“Well, Patrick, you may drive me down, and I will look at it.”
“Thank yer honor; and shall I hitch up right away?”
“Yes; the sooner it’s over the better.”
“Thrue for you, and so it is; for a break-down would be a pity, with the doctors charging so high. But ye’ll be safe enough in the new coach.”
We found the wheelwright at his shop, and ready to expatiate on the many good points of his vehicles and the excellence of his work; the advantages he had over city builders, and the danger there was in riding in a broken-down affair which was made of such wretched stuff as mine, that he only wondered had held together as long as it had. The proposed carriage was quite gorgeous and very fine with paint and upholstery. I thought it rather heavy for one horse, but Patrick, who had taken much interest in the discussion, immediately, on my making the suggestion, seized the shafts, and ran it up and down as if it were as light as a feather. So there was nothing for it but to say that I would take the “beautiful new coach;” and, stepping to one side with the maker, I said, “I am informed that the price is three hundred and fifty dollars.”
“Oh,” he replied, “that is without the pole; with the pole it is three hundred and seventy-five. Mr. Jones paid me—”
“Never mind about Mr. Jones. I understood the price was three hundred and fifty dollars with pole and shafts; but, as I do not want the former, I will do without that.”
“But they both go together,” replied the man. “Now I’ll tell you what,” he added, dropping his voice to a confidential whisper, “you have been a good customer of mine, and I want to please you; so let’s say three hundred and sixty-five, and that will be almost throwing the pole in. It costs a good twenty-five dollars to build one.”
I never liked haggling over trifles, so I consented and paid down the money. I did not send for the new carriage immediately; in fact, a change seemed to have come over the Rockaway; it gave up wobbling, the wheels ran steadier, the springs became stronger, and its general debility disappeared. It was altogether a changed vehicle. I heard no more complaints from Patrick, and all danger in using it seemed to have disappeared, for he took five of his female acquaintances to church in it the very next Sunday morning. When we did get the new coach home it proved to be entirely too heavy, and Patrick was the loudest in declaring it was “no good at all, at all.” Of course, it could not have been that an honest village wheelwright would purposely have put my wagon out of order that he might sell me a new one, but such a sudden recovery of health on the part of a Rockaway was extraordinary and wonderful to the last degree.