"Kettles and frying-pans! what has us here?" cried the tinker.
This time Mr Sprott was without his donkey; for, it being Sunday, it is
to be presumed that the donkey was enjoying his Sabbath on the Common.
The tinker was in his Sunday's best, clean and smart, about to take his
lounge in the park.
Lenny Fairfield made no answer to the appeal.
"You in the wood, my baby! Well, that's the last sight I should
ha' thought to see. But we all lives to larn," added the tinker
sententiously. "Who gave you them leggins? Can't you speak, lad?"
"Nick Stirn."
"Nick Stirn! Ay, I'd ha' ta'en my davy on that: and cos vy?"
"'Cause I did as he told me, and fought a boy as was trespassing on
these very Stocks; and he beat me--but I don't care for that; and that
boy was a young gentleman, and going to visit the Squire; and so Nick
Stirn--" Lenny stopped short, choked by rage and humiliation.
"Augh," said the tinker, staring, "you fit with a young gentleman,
did you? Sorry to hear you confess that, my lad! Sit there, and be
thankful you ha' got off so cheap. 'Tis salt and battery to fit with
your betters, and a Lunnon justice o' peace would have given you two
months o' the treadmill. But vy should you fit cos he trespassed on
the Stocks? It ben't your natural side for fitting, I takes it."
Lenny murmured something not very distinguishable about serving the
Squire, and doing as he was bid.
"Oh, I sees, Lenny," interrupted the tinker, in a tone of great
contempt, "you be one o' those who would rayther 'unt with the 'ounds
than run with the 'are! You be's the good pattern boy, and would peach
agin your own border to curry favour with the grand folks. Fie, lad!
you be sarved right: stick by your horder, then you'll be 'spected when
you gets into trouble, and not be 'varsally 'espised--as you'll be
arter church-time! Vell, I can't be seen 'sorting with you, now you are
in this here drogotary fix; it might hurt my cracter, both with them as
built the Stocks, and them as wants to pull 'em down. Old kettles to
mend! Vy, you makes me forgit the Sabbath. Sarvent, my lad, and wish
you well out of it; 'specks to your mother, and say we can deal for the
pan and shovel all the same for your misfortin."
The tinker went his way. Lenny's eye followed him with the sullenness
of despair. The tinker, like all the tribe of human comforters, had
only watered the brambles to invigorate the prick of the thorns. Yes,
if Lenny had been caught breaking the Stocks, some at least would have
pitied him; but to be incarcerated for defending them, you might as
well have expected that the widows and orphans of the Reign of Terror
would have pitied Dr Guillotin when he slid through the grooves of his
own deadly machine. And even the tinker, itinerant, ragamuffin vagabond
as he was, felt ashamed to be found with the pattern boy! Lenny's head
sank again on his breast, heavily as if it had been of lead. Some few
minutes thus passed, when the unhappy prisoner became aware of the
presence of another spectator to his shame: he heard no step, but he
saw a shadow thrown over the sward. He held his breath, and would not
look up, with some vague idea that if he refused to see he might escape
being seen.