THE BARGAIN.

Auckland Star, Volume LXII, Issue 2, 3 January 1931, Page 4 (Supplement)

THE BARGAIN.

LIFE IN THE COUNTRY.

DOUBTFUL AND DUBIOUS.

(By MARIE LOUISE.)

Even'the strongest man has his heel of Achilles.' ' V Dad had a particularly prominent one, in fact it' was considerably more than a mere heel, it was a whole leg. He was a practical and industrious sheep farmer, except for one weakness; he never could resist a bargain in horse-flesh. The paddocks round the homestead were literally dotted with -snips in more or less advanced stages of senile decay. Therei was Cocoa, the old-age pensioner, Tommy the roarer, brokenkneed Jimmy, and old Pimple, so called because of an enormous wart-like excrescence which quite spoilt the profile of his chestnut rump. These proud representatives of the Genus Equus were far more ornamental than useful, as no one ever dreamed of using them, least of all dad; he was far too kind-hearted. For many years dad pursued his tiresome hobby, always believing in his bargains until they arrived home, when disillusionment was generally swift and sure. We used to dread the sight of strange quadrupeds, and it was almost impossible not to dread the sight of the family ones. Whenever we accompanied dad to the township we took it in turns to shepherd him from the clutches of likely horse vendors; a trying and thankless task, but deliverance was at hand. Driving Home. We were returning from the first A. and P. Show in our district; mother and dad in the front seat of the buggy and we three in the back, when we saw a strange mare in McPherson's paddock. Of course, dad immediately made the excuse of "goin' to see old Mac a minute." We groaned and looked sorrowfully at one another. "Perhaps it isn't for sale," comforted mother. "'Course it is, that sort always is," gloomed Bill. So we sat waiting for the worst to happen. We hadn't long to wait. Dad soon appeared radiating triumph. "Come on over and have a look at this hack, Bill," he said, "Mac only wants a quid for her and she'd do fine for you to ride round the sheep." Bill climbed down wrapped in gloom and gazed sourly at his impending fate. "Of course, she's pretty old, but sound, sound as a bell!" remarked dad, smiting the derelict's rump with a heartiness which caused her to stagger and almost swoon. Whereupon old Mac's expression became somewhat strained. "Her name's Peggy, annd she's dirrrt cheap at the prrice," he burred, anxiously.

"One pound," muttered dad with veneration, while we all sniggered dolefully at the creature's name. Never was animal more aptly christened; she was a quivering mass of pegs from sunken eyeballs to hairless tail. "Right-o, IH take her at that," said dad. "You'll take her now ? She'll lead fine behind the buggy," suggested the canny Scot, eagerly. The blood congealed in our veins at the mere thought of dragging that old skeleton behind us through the town. "I'll ride over for her to-morrow," suggested Bill; hurriedly. "No, we'll be footrotting to-morrow, we'll take her now. Chuck us over that rope under the seat." Dad's voice sounded in our ears like the very crack of doom itself, a sovereign changed hands and McPherson's countenance wore a positively genial expression. "Perhaps you could ride her bareback, Bill, she seems quiet," remarked dad, for even he was not keen on parading Peggy through the town> We all seconded this motion, but with, out much hope. "Aw! have a heart," exclaimed Bill, His eyes on Peggy's sawlike vertabrae, which were only too evident. So off we started once more, Bill holding the rope with Peggy attached. Uncle, our buggy, horse, was no trotter. Oh dear, no! He was a bargain, but he was the' most popular of all dad's 6nips, for he was strong and handsome, and' had only one serious drawback, a chronic lampas which affected his temperament to such an extent that he never had any ambition to get on in the world. Consequently we always had to start for picnics an hour earlier than anyone else, otherwise we wouldn't arrive until the best part of the picnic was all eaten. However, even Uncle's measured tread was too fast for Peggy's abilities, and we had to 6low down to a walk, which prolonged the agony indefinitely. "For goodness sake! Can't we trot through the town?" asked Marjorie. "Now I know how a dog feels with a can tied to his tail," she added, sotto voce. "Lawks! The town's just swarming with people," I gasped in horror, and so it was. Crowds stood on the footpath in front of the hotel, and dozens of people were passing to and fro with th'eir stock from the show ground. "Lumme, look wot's comin'," cried a hooligan. "Bringin' 'ome the champion ?" asked the village wit. Loud guffaws and cackles of mirth from the crowd. We gritted our teeth and vainly endeavoured to control our blushes. Mother smiled patiently. She had been married nineteen years and could put up with anything.

Amusement for the Crowd. Dad, in a desperate attempt to put an end to the embarrassing situation, Tirged Uncle to a trot. The leading rope suddenly tautened and jerked out of Bill's hand, then, to our uttermost horror and dismay, old Peggy without the slightest warning dropped down flop in the street! "Don't say anything, pretend we don't notice," whispered Marjorie, the opportunist, hysterically. Dad, suspicions aroused by the sudden and intense silence, turned round and discovered his bargain dead as Noah in the roadway. He flamed a sudden and savage magenta; he opened his mouth and cast his dignity to the winds; he burst into song and dance upon the buggy floor; he enthusiastically sang a hymn of hate against the entire Scottish nation, and McPherson in particular; he danced up and down like a maniac till the buggy cracked and groaned in agonised protest. There we sat, the laughing stock of the community, and not one of us but envied Peggy, who had left this sordid vale of tears and raucous laughter. The crowd cheered and applauded; the noise rapidly became an-uproar and the policeman appeared upon the scene and ordered dad to remove the obstruction immediately. Dad eventually recovered sufficiently to give a man a pound to dispose of the corpse, and drove home a poorer and hoarser man. A hideous experience for us, but we counted it a day well spent, for 'twas the price of our liberty from equine bargains for ever more.