CHAPTER XXIII
DISCUSSES THE VIRTUES OP THE ONION
"There"s nothing like an onion!" said the Tinker, lifting pot-lid to lunge at the bubbling contents with an inquisitorial fork. "An onion is the king o" vegetables! Eat it raw and it"s good; b"ile it and it"s better; fry it and it can"t be ekalled; stoo it wi" a rabbit and you"ve got a stoo as savoury an" full o" flavour--smells all right, don"t it, Ann?" he enquired suddenly and a little anxiously, for Diana had possessed herself of the fork and was investigating the pot"s bubbling contents with that deft and capable a.s.surance that is wholly feminine. "Smells savoury, don"t it, Ann?" he questioned again, noting her puckered brow.
"Very!" said I.
"Did ye put in any salt or pepper, Jerry?" she demanded.
"Drat my whiskers, never a shake nor pinch!" he exclaimed, whereupon Diana sighed, shook her head in silent reprobation and vanished into the dingy tent as one acquainted with its mysteries, leaving the Tinker gazing at the pot quite crestfallen.
"A man can"t always be for ever a-remembering everything, Ann!" said he, as she reappeared. "An" besides, now I come to think on it, I aren"t so partial to pepper an" salt--"
"A stew should never boil, Jerry!" she admonished.
"Why, that"s a matter o" taste," he retorted. "I always b"ile my stoos and uncommon tasty I find "em--"
"And a little thickening will improve it more," she continued serenely. "And if you had cut the rabbits a little smaller, it would ha" been better, Jerry. Still, I daresay I can make it eatable, so go an" talk to Peregrine and leave me to do it."
Obediently the Tinker came and seated himself beside me.
"Friend Peregrine," said he, jerking his thumb to the busy figure at the fire, "I stooed rabbits afore she was born--ah, hundreds on "em!"
"And boiled "em hard as stones!" she added.
"I"ve throve on b"iled rabbits, Peregrine friend, rabbits and other things cooked by these two hands, lived and throve on "em these fifty-odd years--and you see me today a man hale and hearty--"
"Which is a wonder!" interpolated Diana without glancing up from her labour.
"Pray," said I, seeing him at loss for an answer, "what did you mean by the "Brotherhood of the Roadside"?"
"I meant the Comradeship o" Poverty, friend, the Fellowship o" the Friendless, the Hospitality o" the Homeless. The poor folk on the padding-lay, such as live on the road and by the road, help one another when needful--which is frequent. Those as have little give freely to them as have none--I to-day, you to-morrow. The world would be a poor place else, "specially for the likes o" we."
"Do you mean that all who tramp the road know each other?"
"Well, "ardly that, brother. To be sure, I know most o" the reg"lar padding-coves, but you don"t have to know a man to help him."
"Are you acquainted with a peddler called Gabbing d.i.c.k?"
"Aye, poor soul. d.i.c.k"s father was hung for a crime he didn"t commit, just afore d.i.c.k was born, which drove his poor mother mad, which is apt to make a child grow up a little queer, d"ye see?"
"And old Moll?" said I, with growing diffidence.
"Aye, a fine figure of a woman she was once, I mind. But her man was pressed aboard ship and killed, and she starved along of her babby, though she did all she could to live for the child"s sake and when it died, she--well, look at her now, poor soul!"
"The world would seem a very hard and cruel place!" I exclaimed.
"Sometimes, brother--"specially for the poor and friendless. But if there"s shadow there"s sun, and if there"s darkness there"s always the dawn. But what o" yourself, friend; you"ve been fighting I think, judging by your looks?"
"Yes, and--I ran away!" I confessed miserably.
"Humph!" said the Tinker. "That don"t sound very hee-roic!"
"But he came back, Jerry!" said Diana in her gentlest voice.
"Ha!" exclaimed the Tinker, looking from her to me and back again, keenly. "Then he is hee-roic!"
"No!" said I, "No, I"m not--and never can be!"
"Oh," said the Tinker. "And why?"
"Because I"m not brave enough, strong enough, big enough--"
"Lord, young friend, don"t be so down-hearted and confounded humble; it aren"t nat"ral in one so young! What do you think, Ann?"
"That he"s hungry," she answered.
"Aye, to be sure!" chuckled the Tinker. "And I reckon no hero can feel properly hee-roic when his innards be cold and empty--"
"But I"m not hungry," I sighed, "at least--not very. But the longer I live the more I know myself for a hopeless incompetent--lately, at least--a poor, helpless do-nothing--"
"Lord love ye, lad," quoth the Tinker, laying his hand upon my bowed shoulder, "if you"ve learned so much, take comfort, for to know ourselves and our failings is surely the beginning o" wisdom. But if you can"t be a conquering hero all at once, don"t grieve--you ain"t cut out for a fighter--"
"He beat Gabbing d.i.c.k, anyway," said Diana suddenly, whereat I lifted drooping head and looked towards her gratefully, only to see her vanishing into the dingy little tent again.
"Well, but--" said the Tinker as she reappeared, "Gabbing d.i.c.k ain"t a fighter like Jem Belcher or Gentleman Jack Barty or Jessamy Todd.
d.i.c.k"s a poorish creetur"--"
"He"s twice as big and heavy as Peregrine!" she retorted.
"True!" said he. "And yet friend Peregrine ain"t exactly--"
"Supper"s ready!" she cried.
"Good!" exclaimed the Tinker, rising, but his sharp eyes seemed keener than ever as he glanced from Diana"s lovely, flushed face to me and back again. Then down we sat to supper as savoury as mortal palate could desire; the Tinker, having tasted, sighed and winked his approbation at me, forgetful of Diana"s bright and watchful eyes.
"Well, Jerry," she demanded, "how is it?"
""Twill do, la.s.s, "twill do," he answered; "though you"ve come it a leetle too strong o" the pepper and salt, to my thinking, still--it"ll do. And now, friend Peregrine, I"m consarned to know what"s become of all your money--"
"He buys me with it," answered Diana.
"Eh--bought you?"
"For fourteen guineas, a florin, one groat and three pennies, Jerry!"
The Tinker gulped and stared.