The young woman his wife, who seemed accustomed to such remarks, acted as if she did not hear them, and continued her intermittent private words of tender trifles to the sleeping and waking child, who was just big enough to be placed for a moment on the bench beside her when she wished to ease her arms.  The man continued—­

“I haven’t more than fifteen shillings in the world, and yet I am a good experienced hand in my line.  I’d challenge England to beat me in the fodder business; and if I were a free man again I’d be worth a thousand pound before I’d done o’t.  But a fellow never knows these little things till all chance of acting upon ’em is past.”

The auctioneer selling the old horses in the field outside could be heard saying, “Now this is the last lot—­now who’ll take the last lot for a song?  Shall I say forty shillings?  ’Tis a very promising broodmare, a trifle over five years old, and nothing the matter with the hoss at all, except that she’s a little holler in the back and had her left eye knocked out by the kick of another, her own sister, coming along the road.”

“For my part I don’t see why men who have got wives and don’t want ’em, shouldn’t get rid of ’em as these gipsy fellows do their old horses,” said the man in the tent.  “Why shouldn’t they put ’em up and sell ’em by auction to men who are in need of such articles?  Hey?  Why, begad, I’d sell mine this minute if anybody would buy her!”

“There’s them that would do that,” some of the guests replied, looking at the woman, who was by no means ill-favoured.

“True,” said a smoking gentleman, whose coat had the fine polish about the collar, elbows, seams, and shoulder-blades that long-continued friction with grimy surfaces will produce, and which is usually more desired on furniture than on clothes.  From his appearance he had possibly been in former time groom or coachman to some neighbouring county family.  “I’ve had my breedings in as good circles, I may say, as any man,” he added, “and I know true cultivation, or nobody do; and I can declare she’s got it—­in the bone, mind ye, I say—­as much as any female in the fair—­though it may want a little bringing out.”  Then, crossing his legs, he resumed his pipe with a nicely-adjusted gaze at a point in the air.

The fuddled young husband stared for a few seconds at this unexpected praise of his wife, half in doubt of the wisdom of his own attitude towards the possessor of such qualities.  But he speedily lapsed into his former conviction, and said harshly—­

“Well, then, now is your chance; I am open to an offer for this gem o’ creation.”

She turned to her husband and murmured, “Michael, you have talked this nonsense in public places before.  A joke is a joke, but you may make it once too often, mind!”

“I know I’ve said it before; I meant it.  All I want is a buyer.”

At the moment a swallow, one among the last of the season, which had by chance found its way through an opening into the upper part of the tent, flew to and from quick curves above their heads, causing all eyes to follow it absently.  In watching the bird till it made its escape the assembled company neglected to respond to the workman’s offer, and the subject dropped.