All this was told in the most matter-of-fact way, as if it was quite as much a thing of course as any other order of nature. Mrs. Welch was on her metal. She would for once give this sleepy rustic an illustration of energy; she would open his eyes.
“Well, is that the only horse anywhere about here?” Her tone was energetic, perhaps even exasperated. The agent was unmoved.
“No’m; Al Turley’s got a sort of a horse, but he don’t work very well. And Al ain’t got any wagon.”
This was too much for Mrs. Welch.
“Don’t you think we might get a horse of one man and the wagon and harness of the other, and put them together?” she laughed.
The agent was not so sure. Al might be going to use his horse, and he “didn’t work so well, anyhow.”
“But he does work?” Mrs. Welch persisted.
“Oh, yes’m—some. Al ploughs with him.”
“Well, now, let’s see what a little enterprise will do. I’ll pay well for both horse and wagon.”
The agent went off, and after a time came back. Al would see what he could do. But again he renewed his invitation to her to wait until to-morrow. He was almost urgent; he painted the difficulties of the journey in the gloomiest colors. Mrs. Welch now, however, had set her mind on carrying out her plans. It had become a matter of principle with her. She had come down here to show what energy would accomplish, and she might as well begin now.