"There, there," she murmured, her voice very soft and sweet, "never grieve so, Peregrine--you"re no coward! When a coward runs away, he keeps running in the same direction; a coward don"t come back to be beaten black and blue--see your poor face!"
"You laughed at it this morning!" said I, striving to steady my voice.
"Yes, I know I did, but only--only because!" she answered gently. "But you ain"t--I mean are not--a coward; you fought your best--"
"But to no purpose!" I added bitterly. "Nature has shaped me in such puny mould, I"m so miserably weak--" Here the arm tightened and, conscious thus of all the throbbing strength and vitality of her, I felt my own weakness the more. "Oh, I"m a miserable, undersized rat!"
I groaned.
"Hush!" she whispered, as if I had shocked her. ""Tisn"t size or strength as wins a fight, Peregrine; "tis quickness an" knowing how--but most of all being game-plucked. The next time a man hits ye, stand away and hit back; there"s nothing will keep a man from hitting you like hitting him often and hard."
"It seems that my uncles were right, after all!" said I. "Hard knocks are sometimes more efficacious than the best-reasoned arguments. You have seen many fights, I suppose, Diana?"
"Lots!"
"I wish you could teach me how it is done!"
"Why, so I will, Peregrine--stand up! Now," she admonished, as we faced each other, "put up your hands--so!" Hereupon I imitated her posture. "Now," she continued, "I"m going to hit you in the face!"
which she immediately did, though lightly and with her open hand. "Now hit me if you can, Peregrine."
But though I tried my best, she was so wonderfully quick and light upon her feet that I smote but empty air or my blows were parried, while her hands flashed, now here, now there, to pat and tap my face as often as she would. So we sparred together until, flushed and laughing and breathless, we paused by common consent.
And thus I had my first lesson in the n.o.ble Art.
"You do be very light o" your feet!" said she as we sat side by side beneath the tree again, "and much quicker than I thought, Peregrine!"
"I--I"m glad--very glad you think so!" I answered vastly elated by this praise.
"Yes, if you had proper teaching, you might be able to take your part against most o" them."
Now at this I became filled with such a glow of pleasure as amazed me by its intensity, such indeed as no praise from tutors or even my loved aunt Julia had ever inspired.
"Though to be sure," she added, ""t would all depend on whether you was game-plucked. No, size don"t always count; why, Jessamy Todd ain"t--is not--much bigger than you."
"And who is he?"
"Lord, haven"t you heard? Why, Jessamy was one of the greatest, fiercest fighters that ever was, they say! But he had the ill-luck to kill a man and turned religious."
"Do you know him?"
"Very well. I"ve heard him preach often."
"Preach?" said I.
"Yes, Jessamy never fights now--unless he has to--goes about preaching. And he preaches as well as he used to fight, and sings as well as he preaches."
"I should like to meet Jessamy Todd," said I.
"Well, so you will, if you pad the hoof long enough. But now, what o"clock is it?"
"Half-past twelve," I answered, consulting my watch. "Yet surely it can"t be so late?"
"But it is--look at the sun! And don"t you feel "t is dinner time?
There"s a little tavern down the lane yonder--let"s go and eat."
"Not unless I pay for it--"
"With no money?"
"Here is my watch!"
"Don"t be foolish!" she exclaimed, springing to her feet. "Get up and come along, do! No, stay where you are; things will taste sweeter out here--they always do. Only don"t go trying to run off or any such foolishness--just stay where you are an" wait for me."
"But--"
"I won"t be long--so promise!"
"I promise!"
Waiting for no more, she sped away all lithe and vigorous grace; when she was out of sight, I lay upon my and, staring up at the rustling canopy above, became lost in thought, wondering, among other things, if I could ever possibly attain unto that mysterious virtue she had called "game-plucked" and just precisely what it might be.
CHAPTER XIX
HOW AND WHY I FOUGHT WITH ONE GABBING d.i.c.k, A PEDDLER
"You won"t be wantin" ever a broom, now?"
Starting up in no little amazement, I beheld a man who bore a bundle of brooms upon his shoulder and a pack upon his back, while round his neck dangled ribbands and laces of many colours and varieties; a smallish, grizzled, plump man with an ill-natured face.
"You won"t be wantin" ever a broom?" he repeated.
"No, thank you," I answered; "though indeed I should think it was sufficiently obvious."
"Nor yet a mop?"
"No!"
"Why then, a belt? "Ow about a fine, leather belt wi" a good steel buckle made in Brummagem?"
"I couldn"t buy anything of you if I wished," I explained, "because I have no money."
"Eh--no money?" said the man, turning to spit into the road. "No money--eh? Then wot about "er, the Eve as you was a kissy-cuddlin"--"