_The Stables at Saddlesprings, the Wheelers' Country House near
Bykersall. MISS DIANA'S Horse BAYARD discovered in his Stall._
BAYARD (_talking to himself, as is the habit of some horses when
alone_). I can't make it out. She's here. All the family came down
yesterday--I heard the omnibus start for the station to meet them. And
yet she hasn't sent for me; hasn't even been near me! She always used to
rush in here and kiss me on the nose the very first--She's ill--that's
it of course--sprained her fetlock or something. If she was well, she'd
have had me saddled as soon as she'd had her morning feed, and we'd have
gone for a canter together somewhere.... I hope she'll get well soon.
I'm sick of being taken out by the stable-man; he's so dull--no notion
of conversation beyond whistling! Now, Miss Diana would talk to me the
whole way.... Perhaps her hands and seat might have been----But what did
_that_ matter? I liked to feel she was on my back, I liked the sound of
her pretty voice, and the touch of her hand when she patted me after her
ride.... (_He pricks his ears._) Why, that's her voice outside now!
She's all right, after all. She's coming in to see me!... I _knew_ she
couldn't have forgotten!
MISS DIANA'S VOICE (_outside_). Yes, you might put it in here for the
present, Stubbs. I suppose it will be quite safe?
STUBBS' VOICE. Safe enough, Miss, there's plenty o' empty stalls this
side. Nothing _in_ 'ere just now, except----
MISS D.'S VOICE. Very well, then. Just wipe some of the dust off the
mud-guards, because I shall want it again after lunch. And mind you
don't scratch the enamel taking it in.
STUBBS. Very good, Miss. I'll be keerful.
[_MISS DIANA'S steps die away upon the cobbles._
BAYARD (_to himself_). She's gone--without even asking after me! What
has she been out in--a bath chair? I'm sure she _must_ be ill.
STUBBS (_to the Bicycle, as he wheels it in_). 'Ere, steady now, 'old
up, can't ye? And keep that blarsted near pedal o' yourn off o' _my_
enamel. Blest if I wouldn't rather rub down arf a dozen 'unters nor one
o' them yere bloomin' bi-cycles. I know where I _am_ with a 'orse; but
these 'ere little, twisty, spidery wheels----Come _over_, will ye. I'll
lean ye up agen 'ere till I've 'ad my dinner.
[Illustration: "It must be a sort of animal, I suppose."]
[_He places the machine against a partition next to BAYARD'S
stall, and goes out._
BAYARD (_to himself, as he inspects his neighbour with the corner of his
eye_). It's _not_ a bath-chair; it's one of these bicycles. It must be a
sort of animal, I suppose, or Stubbs wouldn't have spoken to it. I
should like to ask it one or two questions. (_He gets his neck over the
partition, and breathes gently through his nostrils upon the
handle-bars._) Excuse me, but do you understand horse-language at all?
The BICYCLE (_answering by a succession of saddle-creaks_). Perfectly.
I'm a kind of horse myself, I believe, only greatly _improved_, of
course. _Would_ you mind not breathing on my handle-bars like that? It
tarnishes the plating so. The saddle is the seat of _my_ intelligence,
if you will kindly address your remarks here.
BAYARD. I beg your pardon. I will in future. I don't creak myself, but
I've been closely connected with saddles ever since I was a
two-year-old, so I can follow you fairly well. Didn't I hear my
mistress's voice outside just now?
The BICYCLE. No; _my_ mistress's, Miss Diana's. I'd just taken her out
for a short spin--not far, only fifteen miles or so.
BAYARD. Then, she--she's quite well?
The BICYCLE. Thanks, she's pedalling pretty strong just now. I'm going
out with her again this afternoon.
BAYARD. Again! You will have had a hard day of it altogether, then. But
I suppose you'll get a day or two's rest afterwards? I know _I_ should
want it.
The BICYCLE. Bless you, _I_ never want rest. Why, I've been forty miles
with her, and come home without clanking a link! _She_ was knocked up,
if you like--couldn't go out for days!
BAYARD. Ah, she was never knocked up after riding _me_!
The BICYCLE. Because--it's no fault of yours, of course, but the way
you've been constructed--you couldn't go far enough to knock _anybody_
up. And she doesn't get tired now, either. I'm not the kind of bicycle
to boast; but I've often heard her say that she much prefers her "bike"
(she always calls me her "bike"--very nice and friendly of her, isn't
it?) to any mere _horse_.
BAYARD. To any mere horse! And does she--give any reasons?
The BICYCLE. Lots. For one thing, she says she feels so absolutely safe
on me; she knows that, whatever she meets, I shall never start, or shy,
or rear, or anything of that sort.
BAYARD. I don't remember playing any of those tricks with her, however
hard she pulled the curb.
The BICYCLE. Then she says she never has to consider whether any
distance will be too much for me.
BAYARD. As for _that_----But the longer I was out with her, the better I
was pleased; she might have brought me home as lame as a tree all round,
and _I_ shouldn't have cared!
The BICYCLE. Perhaps not. But _she_ would; so inconvenient, you see. Now
_my_ strong point is, I _can't_ go lame--in good hands, of course, and
she knows exactly how to manage me, I will say that for her!
BAYARD. Does she give you carrots or sugar after a ride? she did _me_.
THE BICYCLE (_with a creak of contempt_). Now what _do_ you suppose I
could do with sugar or a carrot if I had it? No, a drop or two of oil
now and then is all I take in the way of sustenance. That's _another_
point in my favour, I cost little or nothing to keep. Now, your oats and
hay and stuff, I daresay, cost more in a year than I'm worth altogether!
BAYARD.. I must admit that you have the advantage of me in cheapness. If
I thought she grudged me my oats----But I'm afraid I couldn't manage on
a drop or two of oil.
The BICYCLE. You'd want buckets of it to oil _your_ bearings. No, she
wouldn't save by that! (_STUBBS re-enters._) Ah, here comes my man. I
must be going; got to take her over to Pineborough, rather a bore this
dusty weather, but when a lady's in the case, eh?
BAYARD. There's a nasty hill going into Pineborough; do be careful how
you take her down it!
The BICYCLE. You forget, my friend, I'm not a Boneshaker, I'm a Safety.
Why, she'll just put her feet up on the rests, fold her arms, and leave
the rest to me. She knows _I_ can be trusted.
BAYARD. Just tell me this before you go. Does--she doesn't pat you, or
kiss you on your--er--handle-bar after a run, does she?
The BICYCLE (_turning its front wheel to reply, as STUBBS wheels it
out_). You don't imagine I should stand any sentimental rot of that
sort, do you? She knows better than to try it on!
BAYARD (_to himself_). I'm glad she doesn't kiss it. I don't think I
_could_ have stood that!
_Same Scene. Some Hours Later._
STUBBS (_enters, carrying a dilapidated machine with crumpled handles, a
twisted saddle, and a front wheel distorted into an irregular pentagon_).
Well, I 'ope as 'ow this'll sarve as a lesson to 'er, I dew; a marcy she
ain't broke her blessed little neck! (_To the Bicycle._) No need to be
hover and above purtickler 'bout scratchin' your enamel _now_, any'ow!
(_He pitches it into a corner, and goes._)
BAYARD (_after reconnoitring_). You don't mean to say it's _you_!
The BICYCLE. Me? of course it's me! A nice mess I'm in, too, entirely
owing to her carelessness. Never put the brake on down that infernal
hill, lost all control over me, and here I am, a wreck, Sir! Why, I had
to be driven home, by a grinning groom, in a beastly dog-cart! Pleasant
that!
BAYARD. But she--Miss Diana--was she hurt? Not--not _seriously_, eh?
The BICYCLE. Oh, of course you don't care what becomes of _me_ so long
as----_She's_ all right enough--fell in a ditch, luckily for her, _I_
came down on a heap of stones. It'll be weeks before I'm out of the
repairer's hands.
BAYARD (_to himself_). I _oughtn't_ to be glad; but I am--I _am_! She's
safe, and--and she'll come back to me after this! (_To the Bicycle._)
Wasn't she sorry for you?
The BICYCLE. Not she! These women have no feeling in them. Why, what do
you suppose she said when they told me it would take weeks to tinker me
up?
BAYARD (_to himself--with joy_). I think I can guess! (_To the
Bicycle._) What _did_ she say?
The BICYCLE (_rattling with indignation_). Why, all _she_ said was: "How
tiresome! I wonder if I can hire a decent bike here without having to
send to town for one." There's gratitude for you! But _you_ can't enter
into my feelings about it.
BAYARD. Pardon me--I fancy I can. And, after all, your day will come,
when the Vet has set you up again. _Mine's_ over for ever. (_To
himself._) Oh, why, _why_ wasn't I born a bicycle!
[Illustration]