“Impossible today. Two new spokes and a hub must be made. Monsieur will not be able to start before tomorrow morning.”
“The matter cannot wait until tomorrow. What if you were to replace this wheel instead of repairing it?”
“How so?”
“You are a wheelwright?”
“Certainly, sir.”
“Have you not a wheel that you can sell me? Then I could start again at once.”
“A spare wheel?”
“Yes.”
“I have no wheel on hand that would fit your cabriolet. Two wheels make a pair. Two wheels cannot be put together haphazard.”
“In that case, sell me a pair of wheels.”
“Not all wheels fit all axles, sir.”
“Try, nevertheless.”
“It is useless, sir. I have nothing to sell but cartwheels. We are but a poor country here.”
“Have you a cabriolet that you can let me have?”
The wheelwright had seen at the first glance that the tilbury was a hired vehicle. He shrugged his shoulders.
“You treat the cabriolets that people let you so well! If I had one, I would not let it to you!”