Free The Title of Temperance (The Adventures of Ichabod Temperance Book 8) by Ichabod Temperance Page A

worked some springs under the bench, but it’s still a bumpy ride, ain’t it?”
    “Forsooth, truly it dost seemeth to be so, m’lord, for if we were on horseback, would the gentle beast naughtte simply step over a fallen tree when such is accosted? T’is naughtte so with this ignoble contraption! This monster must bounce us into the air with a violence that I fear my corset shall returneth to Earth without me, such is the abuse this cantankerous cart inflicts upon her weary and suffering passengers and her parts.”
    “Eep! Um, I’ll be more careful, Ma’am. I reckon these little old paths don’t see a lot of traffic like this little beauty. Well, speak of the devil, there’s a crew of fellers up ahead working on the road. The dispirited, wretched men have the look of being pressed into this service.”
    “Such is the way of the World, m’lord, Ichabod. T’is true everywhere, the serf/peasant is indentured to his High-Born land owner.”
    “Uh, yes, Ma’am, unfortunately, I am familiar with this socio-aeconomic status. I’m a sharecropper’s boy and I know how it is to be beholden to the landowners and their overseers.”
    “I better let ‘em know we’re coming.”
    “Truly they know we are coming, for they certainly saw and heard us first. Half their number run in terror at the frightful apparition of our appearance, the other half seemeth to be frozen with incomprehension slathered on their gaping faces. Billowing black banks of coal smoke, thick with soot and ash, trail behind while huge poofs of steam accompany the ‘chug-chugging’ of the terrible ‘Beemer’.”
    chug-chug-chug-chug-chug-chug-chug-chug
    “Yes, Ma’am, Miss Stephanie, Ma’am, you’re right. I reckon I really just wanted an excuse to engage the steam whistle. You don’t mind, do you, Ma’am?”
    ~sigh~ “ Thou may proceedeth.”
    “Whoo-Hoo! Thanks Miss Plumtartt, oops, I mean, Miss Stephanie, Ma’am. Hey, you all get out of the way! The brakes on this thang ain’t so good!”
    ~Toot! TOOOOOOT!!! ~
    chug-chug-chug-chug-chug-chug-chug-chug
    “Did you see them boys, Miss Stephanie? They acted like they ain’t seen nothing like us before.”
    “Thou must speak for thyself, m’lord.”
    “Oh, I reckon they see Knights in shining armour pretty regular, Miss Stephanie, Ma’am, but a girl as pretty as you is a rare beauty.”
    “A kind sentiment, Sir Ichabod, and I thank you most kindly, but I cannaughtte help but think that a Knight in shining armour at the helm of a smoke and steam belching wagon is a sight more rare, still.”
    “It sure is a pretty day, Ma’am.”
    “Agreed.”
    “But it sure is hot in all this armour. Do I really have to wear it?”
    “Thou must wear the armour! That is the way! If thou wouldst live to fight the ogre, don’t even consider removing that armour, Sir Ichabod.”
    ~gulp~ “Yes, Ma’am!”
       .   .   .   “um...”   .   .   .
    “Yes, m’lord?”
    “Can I at least take off the helmet?”
    “Certainly, m’lord. When we are inside of a building. However, as long as we are outside, then thee must wear thy helm.”
    “Dang, the heat of this steam-carriage’s furnace ain’t helping matters none, is it?”
    “No, I do naughtte imagine it to be a pleasant thing to be wrapped up in a quilted, pad jacket, that protects you from the bite of the chain mail and pinch of the plate armour while under the summer sun and sitting right next to a roaring furnace and glowing boiler, Sir Ichabod, baughtte it is the province of Knights to bear such hardships with stoic pride and manly form.”
    “The furnace would be nice in the winter though, hunh, Miss Plumtartt, oops, I mean, hunh, Miss Stephanie?”
    “I’m sure ‘twould be a blessing to have the furnace when the weather art cold and the Earth is blanked in snow. Sir Ichabod, thou hast addressed me in the manner of another woman’s name on more than one occasion, m’lord. Dost my appearance remind thee of some