"Let 'em set foot in your house," he used to say, "and they'll stay. Once let 'em start doing for you and they do for you altogether."
(He had been married to an extraordinarily capable woman and could not endure a sloven.)
Ann he had known since she was a child, when he had caught her in bravado stealing a horseshoe "for luck" out of his yard. And he had carried her and her booty into his house to show his wife the little girl who was braver than the boys who had egged her on to do it; for the boys had scuttled away on his approach. Then his wife had tied the horseshoe up with a pink ribbon and sent proud Ann away with it and a halfpenny, and permission to visit the yard whenever she liked. And when Mrs. Martin died and for a whole week the fat man sat in his house and mourned, Ann was the first to visit him and bring him out of the lethargy that had come upon him. Later, when the livery business went into a galloping consumption, it was in talk with Ann that Mr. Martin plucked up his energy to use his yard, of which he possessed the freehold, for a taxicab business.
She had told him about René, who received a warm welcome when she took him into the office one evening. The very geniality of his reception made René shy, and the old fellow put him to such a shrewd scrutiny that he felt he was being weighed up and measured in his worthiness of friendship with Ann.
"Pleased to meet you, sir," wheezed Mr. Martin. "Any friend of hers is a friend of mine." Then he came to business. He knew nothing of motor-cars himself, but the cab business needed likely young fellers, different kind of feller from 'orses; they needed 'ands and a heart to understand, something special, an inborn gift. "Lookin' at you, I should say you didn't 'ave it. But motors, well, that's a thing you can learn. A motor can't take a dislike to you same as a 'orse, and, likewise, a motor can't take a fancy to you and work 'is 'eart out for you, same as a 'orse. I've 'ad 'orses, if you'll believe me, as it's been a honor to drive, and I've never 'ad a 'orse as could abide Mrs. Martin, God bless 'er! It was a great grief to me, that was."
René had been primed with the wonders of Mrs. Martin and Ann had told him the story of the horseshoe, and he was able to sympathize and show his sympathy. He set his case before Mr. Martin.