OF TWO INCOMPARABLE THINGS. THE VOICE OF DIANA AND JESSAMY'S "RIGHT"
Exuberant, with blood a-dance and nerves braced and tingling from the
sparkling water, we faced each other upon the grassy level, Jessamy
and I, stripped to the waist and with muffled fists and I very
conscious of the keen eyes that appraised my slender arms, and the
muscles of what uncle George would have called my 'torso.'
"I'm afraid I am--hatefully puny!" I exclaimed, casting a disparaging
glance at my proportions.
"Smallish," nodded Jessamy, "smallish, but that ain't a matter to weep
over, brother. Small muscles is quicker than big. Moreover, the Lord
has given you a sound and healthy body and left you to develop an' do
the best wi' it. Fresh air an' exercise, sledge 'ammer an' bellers'll
work wonders in a week or so, mark my words. Now come on an' keep your
weather peeper on my right, for look'ee your left is a feeler, good to
keep your man away, to jolt him now an' then an' to feint him to an
opening, then it's in wi' your right an' all o' you behind it--that's
my way and I've found it a pretty good way."
"You've always won your fights, haven't you, Jessamy?"
"Pretty often--though 'tis all vanity, lad, arter all--"
"And why did you win--and often against bigger and stronger men?"
"Well, p'raps because I eat little an' drink less, or p'raps because I
meant to win, or p'raps again because I knew how. However, the
fightin' game is all vanity an' vexation an' keep your ogles on my
right! Now, into me, lad, an' hit hard--that's your fashion--try for
my chin but don't forget my right! Swing in for my ribs, Perry--and
heartily! Steady boy--on your toes now!"
Such were his expressions as we danced and ducked, feinted and smote,
and as often as he bade me watch his right, that same right smacked
home upon my ribs or face while I wasted myself in futile yet
exceedingly earnest efforts to smite in turn his ever-moving body or
elusive, wagging head, what time over and under and through my guard
shot his terrible fists, to tap me lightly here, to pat me there until
my breath grew short. And now, while I stood to get my wind, he
explained how it was done, showing me sudden volts and turns and
shifts which he termed foot-work. He showed me how to drive in
short-arm blows, swinging from the hips, and how to evade them; how,
when occasion favoured, to hit from the shoulder with all my strength
and weight behind the blow, and how to meet a ducking head with what
he called an uppercut, just such a terrible stroke as had caused the
downfall of the big man Tom.
Thus Jessamy alternately smote and lectured me until, warned by
Diana's clear call, we donned shirts and waistcoats and strode away to
breakfast.
"And how's he shaping, Jessamy?" enquired the Tinker, serving out ham,
pink and savoury, from the hissing frying pan, while Diana poured out
the coffee.
"None s' bad," answered Jessamy; "he's quick an' willing an' don't
mind bein' knocked down now and then, which is a good thing--you went
down pretty frequent that last round, brother!" Here Diana, noting my
battered dishevelment, scowled at Jessamy adorably.
"It ain't--isn't needful to hit quite so hard, is it, Jessamy?" she
enquired.
"Why, yes, Ann. Peregrine wants me to teach him to fight an' you can't
teach that to any man by tapping him, d'ye see."
"But, then, Jessamy," said the Tinker, with his twinkling, bright eyes
on Diana, "Peregrine ain't exactly a Milo o' Crete as had a habit o'
slayin' oxen wi' a blow of his fist; Peregrine's delicate frame could
never endoor real good, hard knocks--"
"But it could, Jerry!" exclaimed Diana. "Nobody could hit him harder
than I've seen him hit, except Jessamy, p'raps." Now at this I was
seized of such a yearning to kiss her that I bent lower over my
platter lest the impulse prove ungovernable.
"It ain't size as counts, brother," added Jessamy, "no--not once in a
thousand; an' as for this cove Milo, big an' heavy an' slow as a
waggon o' bricks, I could eat him alive any day. Though to be sure 't
would only be vanity an' vexation arter all," he added mournfully, "so
let's talk o' better things."
"Why, then, Jessamy," said the Tinker, his eyes twinkling more than
usual, "what might be the pre-cise time by your chronometer?"
"It is now," replied Jessamy, solemnly consulting his watch, "exactly
five an' three quarter minutes to seven, Jerry."
"Then I take leave to tell ye, you're exactly two minutes an' a half
slow," retorted the Tinker, glancing at his own.
"You're very silent, Peregrine; does aught grieve ye?" enquired the
Tinker.
"Did I shake ye up a bit too much, brother?" enquired Jessamy
anxiously.
"No, no, indeed," I answered, "it is only that I am a--a little
thoughtful this morning."
And so, in a while, breakfast being done, Jessamy rose.
"An' now for another go at Old Nick!" quoth he.
"Where are ye for to-day?" questioned the Tinker.
"Tonbridge--'tis market day an' Nick'll be busy in every tavern an'
inn, as usual. What'll I bring back for supper?"
"Well, a chicken's tasty," mused the Tinker, "but then so's lamb, or
there's liver an' bacon--"
"A shin o' beef!" said Diana in voice of finality.
"Stooed!" nodded the Tinker. "Stooed wi' plenty o' vegetables. A shin
o' beef or say a couple--oh, prime! An' it's my turn to pay, Jessamy."
"No, it's mine!" quoth Diana.
"Pray allow me!" said I, reaching for my purse.
"Lord bless us, we're all that rich!" laughed Jessamy. "Come, let's
toss for it." The which we did and the lot fell to Jessamy. "A couple
o' shins o' beef, loaves an' what vegetables?"
"Get some of all sorts!" nodded the Tinker.
"We've plenty o' potatoes an' onions!" said Diana. "And bring 'em as
early as possible, Jess; a shin o' beef ought to simmer for hours."
"Cheerily it is, Ann!" and catching up the canvas bag, Jessamy
flourished his hat and strode off.
"How does Jessamy contrive to live?" I enquired.
"Lord, Peregrine," answered the Tinker, "Jessamy's rich--or was--made
a fortun' wi' his fists, though I reckon he's give most of it away,
like the tender-hearted cove he is."
And now, while Diana busied herself in matters culinary, Jeremy and I
lighted the forge and got us to work. And very often above the ring
and clamour of our hammers would rise the wonder of her voice singing
some wild air of the Zingari or plaintive old ballad; so often and so
gloriously she sang that at last, as I blew the fire for another heat,
Jeremy bade me hush, and silent thus we stood to hearken.
"Peregrine," said he at last, "I knew Ann's voice was a wonder, but I
never heard her sing so blithe an' happy-'earted. I wonder why?"
"Perhaps it is this wonderful morning," said I, watching the flutter
of her gown amid the thickets across the little glade.
"Aye, most likely, for 't is surely a day o' glory, lad, a glory as is
a-shining at me this moment out o' your eyes, Peregrine, singing in
your voice--"
"Jeremy," said I, reaching out to grasp his grimy hand, "O Jeremy, you
are right. Love found me in the dawn and this morning Diana promised
to be my--wife. God make me worthy!"
"Amen, lad, amen!" said the Tinker.
And then from the shade of the willows that bordered the stream limped
the small and shabby yet stately form of Lord Wyvelstoke.