“Want to put that ere horse up, do ee?” repeated the redheaded man, leaning on his spade.

“Of course,” replied Mr. Pickwick, who had by this time advanced, horse in hand, to the garden rails.

“Missus”⁠—roared the man with the red head, emerging from the garden, and looking very hard at the horse⁠—“missus!”

A tall, bony woman⁠—straight all the way down⁠—in a coarse, blue pelisse, with the waist an inch or two below her armpits, responded to the call.

“Can we put this horse up here, my good woman?” said Mr. Tupman, advancing, and speaking in his most seductive tones. The woman looked very hard at the whole party; and the redheaded man whispered something in her ear.

“No,” replied the woman, after a little consideration, “I’m afeerd on it.”