Chap­ter 38: Dol­ly and a Real Gen­tle­man begins in the heart of win­ter, when icy roads and bit­ing winds make every jour­ney more dif­fi­cult. Hors­es strain to keep their foot­ing as heavy carts slide over slick cob­ble­stones, and dri­vers spend long hours in the cold with lit­tle shel­ter or warmth. Many go with­out food for stretch­es, hop­ing a fare will appear before the day ends. Jer­ry, though fac­ing the same weath­er and work, is buffered by the steady sup­port of his fam­i­ly. Pol­ly pre­pares warm meals, and young Dol­ly deliv­ers them faith­ful­ly, bring­ing not just food but cheer to the cab stand. Her pres­ence is a com­fort to many, not just to her father. In a city often indif­fer­ent to the work­ing poor, Dolly’s sim­ple rou­tine becomes an act of resistance—proof that warmth and care can sur­vive even the harsh­est con­di­tions. Her smile and thought­ful­ness lift spir­its in places where hope is often in short sup­ply.

One par­tic­u­lar­ly blus­tery after­noon, Dol­ly arrives with her father’s meal, her cheeks flushed from the cold wind. As she hands Jer­ry his food, a well-dressed gen­tle­man already seat­ed in the cab observes qui­et­ly. Instead of com­plain­ing about the wait, he insists Jer­ry take his time and enjoy the meal. He even offers Dol­ly a coin, not as a bribe or oblig­a­tion, but as a ges­ture of appre­ci­a­tion. This kind­ness stands out in con­trast to the usu­al hur­ried or dis­mis­sive behav­ior cab­men often face. What makes it more mean­ing­ful is that the gen­tle­man seems gen­uine­ly con­cerned, not only for Jerry’s health but also for the well-being of Black Beau­ty, the horse who pulls the cab. Unlike most pas­sen­gers, who treat hors­es as part of the vehi­cle, this man sees Beau­ty as a liv­ing crea­ture with needs and feel­ings. His respect for both dri­ver and horse is rare and deeply val­ued.

Not long after, this same gen­tle­man wit­ness­es a trou­bling scene: a carter whip­ping his team mer­ci­less­ly in the mid­dle of the street. With­out hes­i­ta­tion, he steps in, demand­ing the abuse stop and threat­en­ing to report the carter to author­i­ties. His firm tone and steady gaze make it clear he will not tol­er­ate cru­el­ty, even if it draws unwant­ed atten­tion. Peo­ple near­by pause, unsure whether to sup­port or walk away, but the gentleman’s stance embold­ens oth­ers to take notice. The carter, shamed and scowl­ing, pulls back, mum­bling excus­es as the moment pass­es. Jer­ry watch­es from his cab, qui­et­ly grate­ful to see some­one with influ­ence choos­ing to use it for good. Lat­er, the gen­tle­man dis­cuss­es the inci­dent with Jer­ry, point­ing out that silence allows cru­el­ty to thrive. He believes that speak­ing up, even in small sit­u­a­tions, can cre­ate a rip­ple that reach­es much fur­ther than we know.

This chap­ter empha­sizes not just how weath­er and work test the endurance of the poor, but how small acts of kind­ness can cre­ate warmth in a cold world. Dolly’s meals, the gentleman’s patience, and his will­ing­ness to stand against abuse form a thread of com­pas­sion that weaves through an oth­er­wise dif­fi­cult day. Jer­ry, whose job depends on long hours and con­stant strain, finds relief not just in food or warmth, but in being treat­ed with dig­ni­ty. The kind­ness shown to him—and to Beauty—is not grand or dra­mat­ic. It is thought­ful, sim­ple, and deeply human. In a soci­ety that often places effi­cien­cy and wealth above empa­thy, these small ges­tures mat­ter more than they appear. They remind both the read­er and the char­ac­ters that good­ness still exists, even if it’s not always loud.

This mes­sage res­onates far beyond the pages of Black Beau­ty. Today, essen­tial work­ers and ser­vice providers often endure sim­i­lar neglect—long hours, poor con­di­tions, and lit­tle recog­ni­tion. Yet, as this sto­ry illus­trates, the pres­ence of one thought­ful per­son can alter the tone of an entire day. The gentleman’s defense of the hors­es reflects grow­ing aware­ness of ani­mal wel­fare dur­ing the time of the book’s writ­ing, as Eng­land began to estab­lish more legal pro­tec­tions for ani­mals. But Sewell’s point reach­es further—it’s not enough to care qui­et­ly. True com­pas­sion acts when it’s least con­ve­nient, and it stands up when oth­ers stay silent. In a world full of hard­ship, both peo­ple and ani­mals ben­e­fit from those who choose to treat oth­ers with respect and kind­ness, no mat­ter their sta­tion in life.