Winter came early, with rain, sleet or snow almost every day for weeks. Thick rugs keep us horses warm in dry cold, but in soaking rain they are soon wet through. We could rest in our dry stables after half a day’s work, but the drivers sat on their cabs in the cold, sometimes until one or two in the morning. Slippery streets were the worst of all for us: one mile on ice, with a heavy cab behind us, tired us more than four on a good road.
In bad weather many of the men went to sit in the pub near the stand, but Jerry never did. He said beer only made a man colder afterwards, and that dry clothes, good food and a loving wife at home were the best things to keep a driver warm. When he could not get home, Dolly would watch from the corner of the street. If she saw him on the stand, she ran home and soon came back with hot soup or pudding from Polly. She was a brave little girl, and every man on the stand would have helped her across the busy street.
One cold, windy day Dolly had brought Jerry a bowl of something hot and was standing beside him while he ate. He had hardly begun when a gentleman came walking fast towards us and held up his umbrella. Jerry gave the bowl to Dolly and began to take off my rug, but the gentleman hurried up.
“No, no, finish your soup, my friend. I haven’t much time, but I can wait until you’ve finished and taken your little girl safely across the street.” And he sat down in the cab.
“There, Dolly, that’s a gentleman,” said Jerry. “That’s a real gentleman. He has time and thought for a poor cab driver and a little girl.”
After that the same gentleman often took our cab, and sometimes he patted me. “This horse has a good master,” he would say, “and he deserves it.” It was very rare for anyone to notice the horse that had worked for them. Most people would just as soon think of patting the engine that pulled their train.
One day he and a friend took our cab and stopped at a shop. While his friend went inside, our gentleman waited by the door. A little way ahead, two fine horses with a cart were standing outside a wine shop without their driver. After a long wait they began to move off. At once the carter came running out, caught them and beat them cruelly with his whip, even about the head. Our gentleman crossed the street quickly.
“If you don’t stop that at once,” he said firmly, “I’ll have you arrested for leaving your horses, and for cruelty.”
The man, who had clearly been drinking, shouted rude words, but he stopped and drove off. Our gentleman quietly wrote down the name and address painted on the cart, then crossed back to the cab as his friend came out of the shop.
His friend laughed. “I should think, Wright, you have enough business of your own, without troubling about other people’s horses.”
Mr Wright stood still for a moment. “Do you know why this world is as bad as it is? Because people think only of their own business, and won’t stand up for the weak or speak out when someone does wrong.”
“I wish there were more gentlemen like you, sir,” said Jerry. “This city needs them badly.”
As they got out of the cab at the end of the journey, I heard Mr Wright say, “If we see cruelty or wrong that we have the power to stop, and do nothing, we share the guilt.”