WHICH PROVES BEYOND ALL ARGUMENT THAT CLOTHES MAKE THE MAN
I awoke very stiff and sore and full of a black, oppressive melancholy
despite the bright sunshine that poured in at every crack and crevice
of the old barn. To this depression was added sudden dread as I
recalled the incidents of last night and how (albeit unwittingly) I
had favoured the escape of a desperate outlaw, thus placing myself in
danger of arrest and possible imprisonment.
At this horrid thought I started up in great perturbation until
observing thus my clumsy shoes, thick stockings and other garments of
my rustical disguise, my apprehensions abated somewhat and I sat down
again to ponder gloomily on my future course.
And now leapt Memory to tempt me, for I must needs think of my aunt
who, viewed from my present deep of misery and loneliness, seemed like
some goddess very high and remote. I yearned bitterly for that
passionate, if somewhat tyrannic, devotion to my every need and
comfort, and for the serene, untroubled haven her love and mere
presence had ever afforded me.
With the money in my possession I had but to charter a horse or
vehicle and in a few hours should be with her again, safe from all
fears and dangers, secure from all further hardships. Moved by this
thought, I rose to eager feet, but remembering the keen, critical eyes
and aggressive chin of my uncle Jervas, I sat down again.
I remained thus some considerable time, torn between these conflicting
emotions until at last, clenching my hands, I determined I would go on
and persevere in the adventure at all hazards; though I must confess I
came to this final decision more from pride and fear of ridicule than
strength of character.
I remember I had just arrived at this conclusion that was to so
vitally affect and change my after life, when the door of the barn
creaked suddenly open and a man appeared who, espying me where I sat
crouched among the hay, stooped to view me over. For a moment I
blinked, dazzled by the sun-glare, then I saw him for a tall, bony man
with a long nose and a ferrety eye.
"Come out o' that!" quoth he, fondling the lash of an ugly-looking
whip he carried. "Who give you leave to snore in my barn? Come out of
it!"
"Sir," said I, rising and saluting him with a somewhat haughty bow, "I
regret to have trespassed upon your property, but when I remind you of
last night's dreadful storm and further inform you that I was lost,
you will, I am sure--"
"Come out of it--d'ye hear!" he repeated more angrily then before.
"And don't try coming any o' your imperence wi' me, my lad--come, out
ye go!"
"Willingly!" said I disdainfully. "Permit me first to assure you that
if my sheltering in this barn has caused any damage to your property,
I will reimburse you to any reasonable--"
"Get out--ye damned young thieving gipsy!" he roared, and cut at me
fiercely with his whip; whereupon, forgetting dignity and all else in
the sharp, unaccustomed pain, I took to my heels nor did I stop until
I was safe beyond pursuit and out of sight of the scene of my
humiliation.
This incident (though I could have wept for very indignation) served
but to make me the more fixed in my resolution to follow the course I
had marked out for myself, come what might.
My present worldly possessions amounted to some fourteen pounds and a
valuable gold watch, thanks to the highwayman's gratitude; moreover I
remembered Anthony's promise to meet me at Tonbridge and this cheered
me greatly. To Tonbridge I would go and there await his coming.
Musing thus, I was aroused by the hoof strokes of a horse and,
glancing up, beheld a plump man on plump steed ambling towards me down
the lane. Waiting until he was sufficiently near, I stepped into the
road and saluted him.
"Good-day, sir!" said I. "Pray pardon my detaining you, but this
neighbourhood is strange to me. Will you therefore have the kindness
to direct me to Tonbridge?"
The plump man eyed me over, damned my impudence, and rode off with
never another word, leaving me to stare after him mute with
indignation and surprise; and so to plod on, racking my brain to
discover in what particular I could have offended.
I was yet busied on this perplexing problem when I espied a
pleasant-faced fellow leaning over a gate; him I accosted thus:
"Sir, I am a stranger hereabouts and should esteem it a kindness if
you would direct me to Tonbridge." The man stared, open-mouthed, and
hardly had I finished speaking than he threw back his head and laughed
loudly.
"Sir, why do you laugh?" I demanded, a little stiffly.
"Good lad!" he grinned. "Ye be a play-actor, for sure?"
"Certainly I am--not! Pray how may I get to Tonbridge?"
"Why, like Gammer Perkins' old sow," he grinned, "one leg afore t'
other! I bean't sich a green 'un as ye think."
"Thank you for nothing!" said I sharply.
"Oh, ye can't make a fule of I!" quoth he, grinning.
"No," I retorted, "Nature has done so already!"
This seemed to tickle him mightily for some reason.
"By gum, but you be a rare un, ecod!" he cried, slapping his leg.
"Gi'e us some more, lad--I'd rayther laugh than eat any day--sing us a
song--step us a jig, will 'ee? Come, I don't mind payin' for 't. I du
love a good laugh an' I'll pay. I don't mind spendin' a penny--no b'
gum, 'ere's a groat--there y' are! Now tip us a song or jig--come!"
Saying which, he tossed the four-penny piece into the road at my feet.
Now at this I grew angry beyond words, but he was a large man, so I
turned on indignant heel and left him leaning over the gate to stare
from me to the despised coin and back again in open-mouthed
wonderment.
And now, as I trudged on, my mind was exercised on the question as to
whether this part of the world was peopled only by ill-tempered
bullies, surly wretches, or bovine fools. So came I to a place where
the ways divided and I was deliberating which to follow when I heard a
shrill whistling and glancing about, beheld a large woman who talked
very fast and angrily to a small man, who whistled extremely loud and
shrill, heeding her not in the least. Being come to where I stood, the
man paused and stopped his whistling.
"O laddie," quoth he, jerking grimy thumb at his companion, "will ye
'ark to this brimstone witch--been clackin' away all along from
Sevenoaks, she 'ave! Gimme a tanner an' she's yourn--say
thrippence--say a penny!" At this the woman started to berate him
again and he to whistling.
"Pardon me," said I, when at last I might make myself heard, "will you
be so obliging as to tell me the way to Tonbridge?"
"Look at 'im, Neddy, look at 'im!" cried the virago, stabbing bony
finger at me. "Tell 'im t' close 'is trap or it's twist 'is yeres I
will. Tell 'im 'e can't make fun o' we--"
"Make fun of you!" exclaimed I, falling back a pace, aghast at the
suggestion. "Indeed nothing was further from my intent! Believe me, my
good woman, I--"
"Don't ye dare go callin' me ye 'good woman' in them breeches an' ye
shirt all tore! An' look at ye 'at--I seen better on a scarecrow, I
'ave! You're trash apeing y'r betters--poor trash, that's wot you are!
Good woman indeed! You tell 'im wot we think of 'im, Neddy--tell 'im
plain an' p'inted!" Instantly the little man set thumb to nose and,
spreading his fingers, wagged them at me in a highly offensive manner,
at the same time ejaculating the one word:
"Walker!"
Which done, he nodded, the woman scowled, and so they left me.
So here it was, then, the answer to this perplexing riddle--my
clothes! Mechanically I took off my hat and examined it as I had not
troubled to do hitherto and saw it for a shapeless monstrosity faded
to the colour of dust and with more than one hole in crown and brim.
Truly I (like the woman) had seen better on many a scarecrow. I now
stooped to survey as much of my person as possible--my thick and
clumsy shoes, my rough stockings, the old, cord breeches that
disfigured me, hideous in themselves and rendered more so by numerous
darns and ill-contrived patches. Here then, as it seemed, was the
explanation for the brutality, surliness and odious familiarity I had
been subjected to; for my voice and manner being out of all keeping
with my appearance, I must naturally become an object of suspicion,
coarse merriment, or aversion.
Here I must needs begin to realise and justly appreciate how very much
I had owed in the past to the excellence of my tailor, for, clothed in
the dignity of broadcloth and fine linen I had unconsciously lived up
to them and walked serene, accustomed to such deference as they
inspired and accepting it as my due; but stripped of these sartorial
aids and embellishings, who was to recognise the aristocrat? Nay, his
very airs of birth and breeding, his customary dignity of manner would
be of themselves but matter for laughter. To strive for dignity in
such a hat was to be ridiculous and peering down at the cord breeches,
stockings and shoes, I knew that these henceforth must govern my
behaviour. But how adapt myself to these debasing atrocities? This
question proving unanswerable, I determined to buy other clothes at
the first opportunity.
On I tramped, rejoicing in the peaceful solitude of these leafy byways
though, as the day advanced, conscious of a growing thirst and
prodigious hunger. At last I espied an inn before me and hurried
forward; but an inn meant people, folk who would talk and
stare--remembering which, I paused, despite my hunger, and
half-fearing to enter the place by reason of my clothes. As I stood
thus, viewing the inn shyly and askance, a man stepped from the open
doorway and came striding towards me, a jovial-faced, full-bodied man
who, catching my eye, nodded good-humouredly, whereupon I ventured to
address him.
"If you please, sir," said I, touching my hat respectfully (as such a
hat should be touched), "can you tell me the way to Tonbridge?"
"I can, my lad, I can!" quoth he, crossing muscular hands on the
handle of the thick stick he carried. "But Tonbridge is a goodish step
from here and you look tired, my lad, peaked and pale about the gills.
Are ye hungry?"
"Yes, sir!"
"Ha, thought so! Must eat beef--beef's the thing! d'ye like beef,
hey?"
"Yes, sir!"
"How about pudding-steak and kidney pudding--d'ye like that?"
"Yes, sir!"
"Good lad! So do I! Just had some in the 'Artichoke' yonder--all hot!
Go and do likewise, my poor lad! Say Squire sent ye--and eat hearty!"
As he spoke he reached into a pocket of his smallclothes, took out a
shilling, pressed it into my hand, nodded and strode away.