He could scarcely value himself so high as
she.
Meanwhile Professor Valeyon, having won his game of backgammon, hunted
up his hat, made his adieux, and went to the shed for his wagon. He
perceived a figure apparently busy in buckling Dolly between the shafts,
and, supposing it to be the ostler, called to him to know whether every
thing was ready.
"All serene, Profess'r Valeyon," responded the voice of Mr. Reynolds, as
he led Dolly--who seemed rather restive--out into the yard. "Here you
are, all fixed! I done it for you, in style. Jump in, and I'll give you
the reins."
"Is this the reason you were asking me what time I should start, Bill?"
inquired the old gentleman, as he mounted to his seat. "Very kind of
you: sure she's all right?"
"Well, I ought to know something about harnessing a mare by this time, I
guess!" responded Bill, with a good deal of dignity, as he handed up the
reins. "Well, well I no doubt--no doubt! I'm accustomed to oversee it
myself, that's all.--Steady, Dolly! Good-night."
"Good-night, Profess'r Valeyon," said Bill, who, in harnessing the mare
had managed, with intoxicated ingenuity, so to twist one of the buckles
of the head-gear, that every time the reins were tightened, the sharp
tongue was driven in under her jaw-bone.
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