Vet in Harness by James Herriot
Mrs Dalby. -~
"I'm afraid my cattle aren't doing any good, Mr Herriot.' Her voice wad
]1
strained. ~; I grimaced into the receiver. "And the ones I injected ..
.?'
"Just the same as the others.'
I had to face up to reality now and drove out to Prospect House
immediately but the feeling of cold emptiness, of having nothing to
offer, made the journey a misery I hadn't the courage to go to the
farmhouse and face Mrs Dalby but hurried straight up through the fields
to where the young beasts were gathered.
And when I walked among them and studied them at close range the
apprehension I had felt on the journey was nothing to the sick horror
which rushed through me now. Another catastrophe was imminent here. The
big follow-up blow which was all that was needed to knock the Dalby
family out once and for all was on its way. These animals were going to
die. Not just half of them like last year but all of them, because there
was hardly any variation in their symptoms; there didn't seem to be a
single one of them which was fighting off the disease.
But what disease? God almighty, I was a veterinary surgeon! Maybe not
steeped in experience but I wasn't a new beginner any more. I should
surely have some small inkling why a whole great batch of young beasts
was sinking towards the knacker yard in front of my eyes.
I could see Mrs Dalby coming up the field with little William, striding
in his tough, arm-swinging way by her side, and Charlie following
behind.
What the hell was I going to say to them? Shrug my shoulders with a
light laugh and say I hadn't a single clue in my head and that it would
probably be best to phone Mallock now and ask them to shoot the lot of
them straight away for dog meat? They wouldn't have any cattle to bring
on for next year but that wouldn't matter because they would no longer
be farming.
Stumbling among the stricken creatures I gazed at them in turn, almost
choking as I looked at the drooping, sunken-eyed heads, the gaunt little
bodies, the eternal trickle of that deadly scour. There was a curious
immobility about the group, probably because they were too weak to walk
about; in fact as I watched, one of them took a few steps, swayed and
almost fell.
Charlie was pushing open the gate into the field just a hundred yards
away. I turned and stared at the nearest animal, almost beseeching it to
tell me what was wrong with it, where it felt the pain, how this thing
had all started. But I got no response. The stirk, one of the smallest,
only calf-size, with a very dark roan-coloured head showed not the
slightest interest but gazed back at me incuriously through its
spectacles. What was that .. . what was I thinking about ...
spectacles? Was my reason toppling ... ? But yes, by God, he did have
spectacles .. . a ring of lighter hair surrounding each eye. And that
other beast over there .. . he was the same. Oh glory be, now I knew!
At last I knew!
Mrs Dalby, panting slightly, had reached me.
"Good morning, Mr Herriot,' she said, trying to smile. "What do you
think then?' She looked around the cattle with anxious eyes.
"Ah, good morning to you, Mrs Dalby,' I replied expansively, fighting
down the impulse to leap in the air and laugh and shout and perhaps do a
few cartwheels. "Yes, I've had a look at them and it is pretty clear now
what the trouble is.'
"Really? Then what .. .?'
It's copper deficiency.' I said it casually as though I had been turning
such a thing over in my mind right from the beginning. "You can tell by
the loss of the pigment in the coat, especially around the eyes. In fact
when you look at them you can see that a lot of them are a bit paler
than normal.' I waved an airy hand in the general direction of the
stirks.
Charlie nodded. "Aye, by yaw, you're right. Ah thowt they'd gone a funny
colour.'
"Can we cure it?' Mrs Dalby asked the inevitable question.
"Oh yes, I'm going straight back to the surgery now to make up a copper
mixture and we'll dose the lot. And you'll have to repeat that every
fortnight while they are out at grass. It's a bit of a nuisance, I'm
afraid, but there's no other way. Can you do it?'
"Oh aye, we'll do it,' Charlie said.
And "Oh aye, we'll do it,' little William echoed, sticking out his chest
and strutting around aggressively as though he wanted to start catching
the beasts right away.
The treatment had a spectacular effect. I didn't have the modern
long-lasting copper injections at my disposal but the solution of copper
sulphate which I concocted under the surgery tap at Skeldale House
worked like magic. Within a few weeks that batch of stirks was capering,
lively and fully fleshed, over those hillside fields. Not a single
death, no lingering unthriftiness. It was as though the whole thing had
never happened, as though the hand of doom had never hovered over not
only the cattle but the little family of humans.
It had been a close thing and, I realised, only a respite. That little
woman had a long hard fight ahead of her still.
~_
I have always abhorred change of any kind but it pleases me to come
forward twenty years and spectate at another morning in the kitchen at
Prospect House. I was seated at the same little table picking a buttered
scone from the same tray and wondering whether I should follow it with a
piece of malt bread or one of the jam tarts.
Billy still smiled down from the mantelpiece and Mrs Dalby, hands
clasped in front of her, was watching me, her head a little on one side,
the same half smile curving her lips. The years had not altered her
much; there was some grey in her hair but the little red, weathered face
and the bright eyes were as I had always known them.
I sipped my tea and looked across at the vast bulk of William sprawled
in his father's old chair, smiling his father's smile at me. There were
about fifteen stones of William and I had just been watching him in
action as he held a fully grown bullock's hind foot while I examined it.
The animal had made a few attempts to kick but the discouragement on its
face had been obvious as William's great hands effortlessly engulfed its
fetlock and a corner of his wide shoulder span dug into its abdomen.
No, I couldn't expect William to be the same, nor Dennis and Michael
clattering into the kitchen now in their heavy boots and moving over to
the sink to wash their hands. They were six footers too with their
father's high-shouldered easy slouching walk but without Williams sheer
bulk.
Their tiny mother glanced at them then up at the picture on the
mantelpiece.
"It would have been our thirtieth anniversary today,' she said
conversationally.
I looked up at her, surprised. She never spoke of such things and I
didn't know how to answer. I couldn't very well say 'congratulations'
when she had spent twenty of those years alone. She had never said a
word about her long fight; and it had been a winni
ng fight. She had
bought the neighboring farm lower down the Dale when old Mr Mason
retired; it was a good farm with better land and William had lived there
after his marriage and they ran the two places as one. Things were
pretty good now with her three expert stocksman sons eliminating the
need for outside labour except old Charlie who still pottered around
doing odd jobs.
"Yes, thirty years,' Mrs Dalby said, looking slowly round the room as
though she was seeing it for the first time. Then she turned back and
bent over me, her face serious.
"Mr Herriot,' she said, and I was sure that at last, on this special
day, she was going to say something about the years of struggle, the
nights of worry and tears, the grinding toil.
For a moment she rested her hand lightly on my shoulder and her eyes
looked into mine.
"Mr Herriot, are you quite sure that tea is to your liking?'
Chapter Ten.
Every professional visit has its beginning in a call, a summons from the
client which can take varying forms ... "This is Joe Bentley speaking,'
said the figure on the surgery doorstep. It was an odd manner of
address, made stranger by the fact that Joe was holding his clenched
fist up by his jaw and staring vacantly past me.
"ello, 'ello,' Joe continued as though into space, and suddenly
everything became clear. That was an imaginary telephone he was holding
and he was doing his best to communicate with the vet; and not doing
badly considering the innumerable pints of beer that were washing around
inside him.
On market days the pubs stayed open from ten o'clock till five and Joe
was one of the now extinct breed who took their chance to drink
themselves almost insensible. The modern farmer may have a few drinks on
market day but the old reckless intake is rare now.
In Darrowby it was confined to a group of hard-bitten characters, all of
them elderly, so even then the custom was on the wane. But it wasn't
uncommon to see them when they came to pay their bills, leaning
helplessly against the surgery wall and pushing their cheque books
wordlessly at us. Some of them still used a pony and trap and the old
joke about the horse taking them home was illustrated regularly. One old
chap kept an enormously powerful ancient car simply for the purpose of
getting him home; even if he engaged top gear by mistake when he
collapsed into the driver's seat the vehicle would still take off. Some
didn't go home at all on market day but spent the night carousing and
playing cards till dawn.
As I looked at Joe Bentley swaying on the step I wondered what his
programme might be for the rest of the evening. He closed his eyes, held
his fist close to his face, and spoke again.
"Hellow, who's there?' he asked in an affected telephone voice.
"Herriot speaking,' I replied. Clearly Joe wasn't trying to be funny. He
was JUST a little confused. It was only right to cooperate with him.
"How are you, Mr Bentley?'
"Nicely, thank ye,' Joe answered solemnly, eyes still tightly closed.
"Are you very well?'
"I'm fine, thanks. Now what can I do for you?'
This seemed to floor him temporarily because he remained silent for
several seconds, opening his eyes occasionally and squinting somewhere
over my left shoulder with intense concentration. Then something seemed
to click; he closed his eyes again, cleared his throat and recommenced.
"Will you come up to ma place? I've a cow wants cleansin'.'
"Do you want me to come tonight?'
Joe gave this serious thought, pursing his lips and scratching his ear
with his free hand before answering.
"Nay, morning'll do. Goodbye and thank ye.' He replaced the phantom
telephone carefully in its rest, swung round and made his way down the
street with great dignity. He hardly staggered at all and there was
something purposeful in his bearing which convinced me that he was
heading back to the Red Bear. For a moment I thought he would fall
outside Johnson's the ironmongers but by the time he rounded the corner
into the market place he was going so well that I felt sure he'd make
it.
And I can remember Mr Biggins standing by the desk in our office, hands
deep in his pockets, chin thrust forward stubbornly.
"I'ave a cow gruntin' a bit.'
"Oh, right, we'll have a look at her' I reached for a pen to write the
visit in the book.
He shuffled his feet. "Well ah don't know. She's maybe not as bad as all
that.'
"Well, whatever you say .. .'
"No,' he said, "It's what you say - you're t'vet.'
"It's a bit difficult.' I replied. "After all, I haven't seen her.
Maybe I'd better pay you a visit.'
"Aye, that's all very fine, but it's a big expense. It's ten bob every
time you fellers walk on to ma place and that's before you start.
There's all "'medicines and everything on top.'
"Yes, I understand, Mr Biggins. Well, would you like to take something
away with you? A tin of stomach powder, perhaps?'
"How do you know it's "'stomach?'
"Well I don't actually .. .'
"It might be summat else.'
"That's very true, but .. .'
"She's a right good cow, this,' he said with a touch of aggression.
"Paid fifty pound for her at Scarburn Market.'
"Yes, I'm sure she is. And consequently I really think she'd be worth a
visit. I could come out this afternoon.'
There was a long silence. "Aye, but it wouldn't be just one visit, would
it? You'd be comin' again next day and maybe the one after that and
before we knew we'd 'ave a clonkin' great bill.'
"Yes, I'm sorry, Mr Biggins, everything is so expensive these days.'
"Yes, by gaw!' He nodded vigorously."Sometimes it ud be cheaper to give
you t'cow at t'end of it.'
"Well now, hardly that .. . but I do see your point.'
I spent a few moments in thought. "How about taking a fever drink as
well as the stomach powder? That would be safer.'
He gave me a long blank stare. "But you still wouldn't be sure, would
you?'
"No, not quite sure, not absolutely ... '
"She could even 'ave a wire in 'er'.
"True, very true.'
"Well then, shoving medicines down her neck isn't going' to do no good
is it?'
"It isn't, you're right.'
"Ah don't want to lose this cow, the knows!' he burst out truculently.
"Ah can't afford to lose 'er!' "I realise that, Mr Biggins. That's why I
feel I should see her - I did suggest that if you remember.'
He did not reply immediately and only the strain in his eyes and a faint
twitching of a cheek muscle betrayed the inner struggle which was
raging. When he finally spoke it was in a hoarse croak.
"Aye, well, it might be best ... but ... er we could mebbe leave 'er
till mornin' and see how she is then.'
"That's a good idea.' I smiled in relief. "You have a look at her first
thing in the morning and give me a ring before nine if she's no better.'
My words seemed to deepen his gloom. "But what if she doesn't last till
mor
nin'?'
"Well of course there is that risk.'
"Not much good ringin' you if she's dead, is it?'
"That's true, of course.'
"Ah'd be ringin' Mallock the knacker man, wouldn't I?'
"Afraid so, yes .. .'
"Well that's no bloody use to me, gettin' five quid from Mallock for a
good cow.
"Mm, no .. . I can see how you feel.'
"Ah think a lot about this cow!'
"I'm sure you do.'
"It ud be a big loss for me.'
"Quite.'
Mr Biggins hunched his shoulders and glared at me belligerently. "Well
then what are you going' to do about 'er?'
"Let's see.' I ran my fingers through my hair. "Perhaps you could wait
till tonight and see if she recovers and if she isn't right by say,
eight o'clock you could let me know and I'd come out.'
"You'd come out then, would you?' he said slowly, narrowing his eyes.
I gave him a bright smile. "That's right.'
"Aye, but last time you came out at night you charged extra, ah'm sure
you did.'
"Well, probably,' I said, spreading my hands. "That's usual in
veterinary practices.'
"So we're worse off than afore, aren't we?'
"When you look at it like that .. . I suppose so .. .'
"Ah'm not a rich man, the knows.'
"I realise that.'
"Takes me all ma time to pay "'ordinary bill without extras.'
"Oh I'm sure .. .'
"So that idea's a bad egg, ain't it?'
"Seems like it .. . yes .. .' I lay back in my chair, feeling suddenly
tired.
Mr Biggins glowered at me morosely but I wasn't going to be tempted into
any further gambits. I gave him what I fancied was a neutral stare and I
hoped it conveyed the message that I was open to suggestions but wasn't
going to make any myself.
The silence which now blanketed the room seemed to be of a durable
nature. Down at the end of the street the church clock tolled the
quarter hour, far off in the market place a dog barked, Miss Dobson, the
grocer's daughter, glided past the window on her bicycle but no word was
uttered.
Mr Biggins, biting his lower lip, darting his eyes desperately from his
feet to me and back again, was clearly at the end of his resources, and
it came to me at last that I had to take a firm initiative.
"Mr Biggins,' I said. "I've got to be on my way. I have a lot of calls
and one of them is within a mile of your farm, so I shall see your cow
around three o'clock.' I stood up to indicate that the interview was
over.
The farmer gave me a hunted look. I had the feeling that he had been
resigned to a long period of stalemate and this sudden attack had taken
him out of his stride. He opened his mouth as though to speak then
appeared to change his mind and turned to go. At the door he paused,
raised his hand and looked at me beseechingly for a moment, then he sank
his chin on his chest and left the room.
I watched him through the window and as he crossed the road he stopped
half way in the street in the same indeterminate way, muttering to
himself and glancing back at the surgery; and as he lingered there I
grew anxious that he might be struck by a passing car, but at length he
squared his shoulders and trailed slowly out of sight.
And sometimes it isn't easy to get a clear picture over the telephone ..
.
"This is Bob Fryer.'
"Good morning, Herriot here.'
"Now then, one of me sows is bad.'
"Oh right, what's the trouble?'
A throaty chuckle. "Ah, that's what ah want you to tell me!'
"Oh, I see.'
"Aye, ah wouldn't be ringin' you up if I knew what the trouble was,
"I'm afraid my cattle aren't doing any good, Mr Herriot.' Her voice wad
]1
strained. ~; I grimaced into the receiver. "And the ones I injected ..
.?'
"Just the same as the others.'
I had to face up to reality now and drove out to Prospect House
immediately but the feeling of cold emptiness, of having nothing to
offer, made the journey a misery I hadn't the courage to go to the
farmhouse and face Mrs Dalby but hurried straight up through the fields
to where the young beasts were gathered.
And when I walked among them and studied them at close range the
apprehension I had felt on the journey was nothing to the sick horror
which rushed through me now. Another catastrophe was imminent here. The
big follow-up blow which was all that was needed to knock the Dalby
family out once and for all was on its way. These animals were going to
die. Not just half of them like last year but all of them, because there
was hardly any variation in their symptoms; there didn't seem to be a
single one of them which was fighting off the disease.
But what disease? God almighty, I was a veterinary surgeon! Maybe not
steeped in experience but I wasn't a new beginner any more. I should
surely have some small inkling why a whole great batch of young beasts
was sinking towards the knacker yard in front of my eyes.
I could see Mrs Dalby coming up the field with little William, striding
in his tough, arm-swinging way by her side, and Charlie following
behind.
What the hell was I going to say to them? Shrug my shoulders with a
light laugh and say I hadn't a single clue in my head and that it would
probably be best to phone Mallock now and ask them to shoot the lot of
them straight away for dog meat? They wouldn't have any cattle to bring
on for next year but that wouldn't matter because they would no longer
be farming.
Stumbling among the stricken creatures I gazed at them in turn, almost
choking as I looked at the drooping, sunken-eyed heads, the gaunt little
bodies, the eternal trickle of that deadly scour. There was a curious
immobility about the group, probably because they were too weak to walk
about; in fact as I watched, one of them took a few steps, swayed and
almost fell.
Charlie was pushing open the gate into the field just a hundred yards
away. I turned and stared at the nearest animal, almost beseeching it to
tell me what was wrong with it, where it felt the pain, how this thing
had all started. But I got no response. The stirk, one of the smallest,
only calf-size, with a very dark roan-coloured head showed not the
slightest interest but gazed back at me incuriously through its
spectacles. What was that .. . what was I thinking about ...
spectacles? Was my reason toppling ... ? But yes, by God, he did have
spectacles .. . a ring of lighter hair surrounding each eye. And that
other beast over there .. . he was the same. Oh glory be, now I knew!
At last I knew!
Mrs Dalby, panting slightly, had reached me.
"Good morning, Mr Herriot,' she said, trying to smile. "What do you
think then?' She looked around the cattle with anxious eyes.
"Ah, good morning to you, Mrs Dalby,' I replied expansively, fighting
down the impulse to leap in the air and laugh and shout and perhaps do a
few cartwheels. "Yes, I've had a look at them and it is pretty clear now
what the trouble is.'
"Really? Then what .. .?'
It's copper deficiency.' I said it casually as though I had been turning
such a thing over in my mind right from the beginning. "You can tell by
the loss of the pigment in the coat, especially around the eyes. In fact
when you look at them you can see that a lot of them are a bit paler
than normal.' I waved an airy hand in the general direction of the
stirks.
Charlie nodded. "Aye, by yaw, you're right. Ah thowt they'd gone a funny
colour.'
"Can we cure it?' Mrs Dalby asked the inevitable question.
"Oh yes, I'm going straight back to the surgery now to make up a copper
mixture and we'll dose the lot. And you'll have to repeat that every
fortnight while they are out at grass. It's a bit of a nuisance, I'm
afraid, but there's no other way. Can you do it?'
"Oh aye, we'll do it,' Charlie said.
And "Oh aye, we'll do it,' little William echoed, sticking out his chest
and strutting around aggressively as though he wanted to start catching
the beasts right away.
The treatment had a spectacular effect. I didn't have the modern
long-lasting copper injections at my disposal but the solution of copper
sulphate which I concocted under the surgery tap at Skeldale House
worked like magic. Within a few weeks that batch of stirks was capering,
lively and fully fleshed, over those hillside fields. Not a single
death, no lingering unthriftiness. It was as though the whole thing had
never happened, as though the hand of doom had never hovered over not
only the cattle but the little family of humans.
It had been a close thing and, I realised, only a respite. That little
woman had a long hard fight ahead of her still.
~_
I have always abhorred change of any kind but it pleases me to come
forward twenty years and spectate at another morning in the kitchen at
Prospect House. I was seated at the same little table picking a buttered
scone from the same tray and wondering whether I should follow it with a
piece of malt bread or one of the jam tarts.
Billy still smiled down from the mantelpiece and Mrs Dalby, hands
clasped in front of her, was watching me, her head a little on one side,
the same half smile curving her lips. The years had not altered her
much; there was some grey in her hair but the little red, weathered face
and the bright eyes were as I had always known them.
I sipped my tea and looked across at the vast bulk of William sprawled
in his father's old chair, smiling his father's smile at me. There were
about fifteen stones of William and I had just been watching him in
action as he held a fully grown bullock's hind foot while I examined it.
The animal had made a few attempts to kick but the discouragement on its
face had been obvious as William's great hands effortlessly engulfed its
fetlock and a corner of his wide shoulder span dug into its abdomen.
No, I couldn't expect William to be the same, nor Dennis and Michael
clattering into the kitchen now in their heavy boots and moving over to
the sink to wash their hands. They were six footers too with their
father's high-shouldered easy slouching walk but without Williams sheer
bulk.
Their tiny mother glanced at them then up at the picture on the
mantelpiece.
"It would have been our thirtieth anniversary today,' she said
conversationally.
I looked up at her, surprised. She never spoke of such things and I
didn't know how to answer. I couldn't very well say 'congratulations'
when she had spent twenty of those years alone. She had never said a
word about her long fight; and it had been a winni
bought the neighboring farm lower down the Dale when old Mr Mason
retired; it was a good farm with better land and William had lived there
after his marriage and they ran the two places as one. Things were
pretty good now with her three expert stocksman sons eliminating the
need for outside labour except old Charlie who still pottered around
doing odd jobs.
"Yes, thirty years,' Mrs Dalby said, looking slowly round the room as
though she was seeing it for the first time. Then she turned back and
bent over me, her face serious.
"Mr Herriot,' she said, and I was sure that at last, on this special
day, she was going to say something about the years of struggle, the
nights of worry and tears, the grinding toil.
For a moment she rested her hand lightly on my shoulder and her eyes
looked into mine.
"Mr Herriot, are you quite sure that tea is to your liking?'
Chapter Ten.
Every professional visit has its beginning in a call, a summons from the
client which can take varying forms ... "This is Joe Bentley speaking,'
said the figure on the surgery doorstep. It was an odd manner of
address, made stranger by the fact that Joe was holding his clenched
fist up by his jaw and staring vacantly past me.
"ello, 'ello,' Joe continued as though into space, and suddenly
everything became clear. That was an imaginary telephone he was holding
and he was doing his best to communicate with the vet; and not doing
badly considering the innumerable pints of beer that were washing around
inside him.
On market days the pubs stayed open from ten o'clock till five and Joe
was one of the now extinct breed who took their chance to drink
themselves almost insensible. The modern farmer may have a few drinks on
market day but the old reckless intake is rare now.
In Darrowby it was confined to a group of hard-bitten characters, all of
them elderly, so even then the custom was on the wane. But it wasn't
uncommon to see them when they came to pay their bills, leaning
helplessly against the surgery wall and pushing their cheque books
wordlessly at us. Some of them still used a pony and trap and the old
joke about the horse taking them home was illustrated regularly. One old
chap kept an enormously powerful ancient car simply for the purpose of
getting him home; even if he engaged top gear by mistake when he
collapsed into the driver's seat the vehicle would still take off. Some
didn't go home at all on market day but spent the night carousing and
playing cards till dawn.
As I looked at Joe Bentley swaying on the step I wondered what his
programme might be for the rest of the evening. He closed his eyes, held
his fist close to his face, and spoke again.
"Hellow, who's there?' he asked in an affected telephone voice.
"Herriot speaking,' I replied. Clearly Joe wasn't trying to be funny. He
was JUST a little confused. It was only right to cooperate with him.
"How are you, Mr Bentley?'
"Nicely, thank ye,' Joe answered solemnly, eyes still tightly closed.
"Are you very well?'
"I'm fine, thanks. Now what can I do for you?'
This seemed to floor him temporarily because he remained silent for
several seconds, opening his eyes occasionally and squinting somewhere
over my left shoulder with intense concentration. Then something seemed
to click; he closed his eyes again, cleared his throat and recommenced.
"Will you come up to ma place? I've a cow wants cleansin'.'
"Do you want me to come tonight?'
Joe gave this serious thought, pursing his lips and scratching his ear
with his free hand before answering.
"Nay, morning'll do. Goodbye and thank ye.' He replaced the phantom
telephone carefully in its rest, swung round and made his way down the
street with great dignity. He hardly staggered at all and there was
something purposeful in his bearing which convinced me that he was
heading back to the Red Bear. For a moment I thought he would fall
outside Johnson's the ironmongers but by the time he rounded the corner
into the market place he was going so well that I felt sure he'd make
it.
And I can remember Mr Biggins standing by the desk in our office, hands
deep in his pockets, chin thrust forward stubbornly.
"I'ave a cow gruntin' a bit.'
"Oh, right, we'll have a look at her' I reached for a pen to write the
visit in the book.
He shuffled his feet. "Well ah don't know. She's maybe not as bad as all
that.'
"Well, whatever you say .. .'
"No,' he said, "It's what you say - you're t'vet.'
"It's a bit difficult.' I replied. "After all, I haven't seen her.
Maybe I'd better pay you a visit.'
"Aye, that's all very fine, but it's a big expense. It's ten bob every
time you fellers walk on to ma place and that's before you start.
There's all "'medicines and everything on top.'
"Yes, I understand, Mr Biggins. Well, would you like to take something
away with you? A tin of stomach powder, perhaps?'
"How do you know it's "'stomach?'
"Well I don't actually .. .'
"It might be summat else.'
"That's very true, but .. .'
"She's a right good cow, this,' he said with a touch of aggression.
"Paid fifty pound for her at Scarburn Market.'
"Yes, I'm sure she is. And consequently I really think she'd be worth a
visit. I could come out this afternoon.'
There was a long silence. "Aye, but it wouldn't be just one visit, would
it? You'd be comin' again next day and maybe the one after that and
before we knew we'd 'ave a clonkin' great bill.'
"Yes, I'm sorry, Mr Biggins, everything is so expensive these days.'
"Yes, by gaw!' He nodded vigorously."Sometimes it ud be cheaper to give
you t'cow at t'end of it.'
"Well now, hardly that .. . but I do see your point.'
I spent a few moments in thought. "How about taking a fever drink as
well as the stomach powder? That would be safer.'
He gave me a long blank stare. "But you still wouldn't be sure, would
you?'
"No, not quite sure, not absolutely ... '
"She could even 'ave a wire in 'er'.
"True, very true.'
"Well then, shoving medicines down her neck isn't going' to do no good
is it?'
"It isn't, you're right.'
"Ah don't want to lose this cow, the knows!' he burst out truculently.
"Ah can't afford to lose 'er!' "I realise that, Mr Biggins. That's why I
feel I should see her - I did suggest that if you remember.'
He did not reply immediately and only the strain in his eyes and a faint
twitching of a cheek muscle betrayed the inner struggle which was
raging. When he finally spoke it was in a hoarse croak.
"Aye, well, it might be best ... but ... er we could mebbe leave 'er
till mornin' and see how she is then.'
"That's a good idea.' I smiled in relief. "You have a look at her first
thing in the morning and give me a ring before nine if she's no better.'
My words seemed to deepen his gloom. "But what if she doesn't last till
mor
"Well of course there is that risk.'
"Not much good ringin' you if she's dead, is it?'
"That's true, of course.'
"Ah'd be ringin' Mallock the knacker man, wouldn't I?'
"Afraid so, yes .. .'
"Well that's no bloody use to me, gettin' five quid from Mallock for a
good cow.
"Mm, no .. . I can see how you feel.'
"Ah think a lot about this cow!'
"I'm sure you do.'
"It ud be a big loss for me.'
"Quite.'
Mr Biggins hunched his shoulders and glared at me belligerently. "Well
then what are you going' to do about 'er?'
"Let's see.' I ran my fingers through my hair. "Perhaps you could wait
till tonight and see if she recovers and if she isn't right by say,
eight o'clock you could let me know and I'd come out.'
"You'd come out then, would you?' he said slowly, narrowing his eyes.
I gave him a bright smile. "That's right.'
"Aye, but last time you came out at night you charged extra, ah'm sure
you did.'
"Well, probably,' I said, spreading my hands. "That's usual in
veterinary practices.'
"So we're worse off than afore, aren't we?'
"When you look at it like that .. . I suppose so .. .'
"Ah'm not a rich man, the knows.'
"I realise that.'
"Takes me all ma time to pay "'ordinary bill without extras.'
"Oh I'm sure .. .'
"So that idea's a bad egg, ain't it?'
"Seems like it .. . yes .. .' I lay back in my chair, feeling suddenly
tired.
Mr Biggins glowered at me morosely but I wasn't going to be tempted into
any further gambits. I gave him what I fancied was a neutral stare and I
hoped it conveyed the message that I was open to suggestions but wasn't
going to make any myself.
The silence which now blanketed the room seemed to be of a durable
nature. Down at the end of the street the church clock tolled the
quarter hour, far off in the market place a dog barked, Miss Dobson, the
grocer's daughter, glided past the window on her bicycle but no word was
uttered.
Mr Biggins, biting his lower lip, darting his eyes desperately from his
feet to me and back again, was clearly at the end of his resources, and
it came to me at last that I had to take a firm initiative.
"Mr Biggins,' I said. "I've got to be on my way. I have a lot of calls
and one of them is within a mile of your farm, so I shall see your cow
around three o'clock.' I stood up to indicate that the interview was
over.
The farmer gave me a hunted look. I had the feeling that he had been
resigned to a long period of stalemate and this sudden attack had taken
him out of his stride. He opened his mouth as though to speak then
appeared to change his mind and turned to go. At the door he paused,
raised his hand and looked at me beseechingly for a moment, then he sank
his chin on his chest and left the room.
I watched him through the window and as he crossed the road he stopped
half way in the street in the same indeterminate way, muttering to
himself and glancing back at the surgery; and as he lingered there I
grew anxious that he might be struck by a passing car, but at length he
squared his shoulders and trailed slowly out of sight.
And sometimes it isn't easy to get a clear picture over the telephone ..
.
"This is Bob Fryer.'
"Good morning, Herriot here.'
"Now then, one of me sows is bad.'
"Oh right, what's the trouble?'
A throaty chuckle. "Ah, that's what ah want you to tell me!'
"Oh, I see.'
"Aye, ah wouldn't be ringin' you up if I knew what the trouble was,