Tobias panicked. He wasn't even worried now about how to get the cart to someone who could fix it for him, or the fact that he would probably have to spend the night. But the traffic jam behind him grew fast and he didn't want to get in trouble with anyone.

When he saw the head pop out of the barouche, he gave the man an awkward smile. "So sorry for holding ye up, ser."

"Need help?" A young working class man had stopped beside him and looked and the farmer's cart that had by now stopped half of Whitby's traffic. Two others joined them. And soon all four men were tossing their jackets on the cart and rolling up their sleeves to show the strong arms of working men - look, it was a warm winter, okay? -, and they started trying to lift the cart towards the pavement.