The holiday season is busy for cab drivers and their horses.
People rush about to parties and balls, and nobody wants to walk in the chilly weather.
Jerry was glad for the extra work, though the cough he'd had last winter returned.
When New Year's Eve arrived, a pair of men hired him to take them to a party.
We dropped them off at a fancy house at nine o'clock.
"Come pick us up at eleven," one of the men directed.
"But it's a card party.
If we're not finished with our game, you might have to wait a few minutes."
Jerry was always punctual. At eleven o'clock we were back in front of the house.
The party was still going on inside.
Fifteen minutes passed, and then thirty.
By the time the clock chimed twelve, the door still hadn't opened.
It was a cold, windy evening.
As we stood waiting, the rain started and quickly turned to sleet.
Jerry covered me with my blanket, but there was no shelter for him.
He walked up and down the block, trying to keep warm, but that made him cough more than ever.
Finally he huddled in the door of his cab.
At twelve thirty he went to the door of the house to ask if his services were still wanted.
"Yes, they'll be out pretty soon," a servant told him.
Another forty-five minutes passed before the party finally ended.
The two gentlemen came out and climbed into the cab without a word of apology.
My legs were numb from standing in the cold, and I was glad to be moving.
We dropped off the men and headed home, where Polly was waiting up for us as usual.
By that time Jerry was coughing so hard he could barely speak.
"Please get Jack something warm," he told his worried wife.
She hurried inside while Jerry took off the harness and groomed me.
Polly soon brought me a warm mash that made me feel as good as new.
Nobody came to the stable until late the next morning.
Finally young Harry showed up.
He fed us, cleaned our stalls, and then left again.
"What's going on?" Hotspur wondered. "It's not Sunday, is it?"
"No," I said. "This is strange."
Harry returned a few hours later. This time his sister was with him.
She was crying.
"Don't worry," Harry told her. "Father will get better."
"But he's so sick!" Dolly cried. "What if he doesn't?"
For two days we didn't see anyone but Harry and sometimes Dolly.
Both children looked worried all the time.
On the third day, Harry was in the stable when there was a tap at the door.
It was the older cab driver known as the Governor.
"I didn't want to bother your parents, my boy," he said to Harry.
"How's your father doing?"
"He's pretty sick," Harry said, his voice shaking a little.
"The doctor says it's bronchitis."
"Oh dear," the Governor said. "That can be very bad indeed!
But if anyone can pull through, it's your father."
The next day the Governor came back.
When he heard that Jerry was still very ill, he offered to take Hotspur out with his own cab.
"Jack will be all right with a week or two of rest," he told Harry.
"You can walk him up and down the street to stretch his legs.
But this young horse is another matter."
"Yes," Harry admitted.
"Hotspur is already getting restless even though I'm giving him less grain."
The Governor offered to take Hotspur out every day and give half of what he earned to Jerry and Polly.
That went on for a week or so.
It worked out well for everyone involved, including the Governor's own horses, who got a little extra rest.
Meanwhile Jerry was finally getting better.
But the doctor told him he should never go back to cab work if he wanted to live to old age.
One afternoon Harry was in the stable when Dolly came rushing in.
"Who lives at Fairstowe?" she asked.
"Mother just got a letter from there, and she looks very excited!"
"Fairstowe? That's the name of the place where Mother worked before she married Father," Harry said.
"Remember? Father said he ran into the lady who lived there last summer."
"I wonder what she's writing about?" Dolly said.
We soon found out. Polly's old mistress had heard about Jerry's illness.
She wanted the whole family to come and live in the cottage on her estate!
Her coachman was retiring soon, and Jerry could take his place.
Hotspur and I were happy for our kind master, of course.
But we were sad too.
Jerry wouldn't be able to take us with him, and so we both had to be sold.