CHAPTER XXXIII
OF TWO INCOMPARABLE THINGS. THE VOICE OF DIANA AND JESSAMY'S "RIGHT"
Exuberant, with blood a-dance and nerves braced and tingling from thesparkling water, we faced each other upon the grassy level, Jessamyand I, stripped to the waist and with muffled fists and I veryconscious of the keen eyes that appraised my slender arms, and themuscles of what uncle George would have called my 'torso.'
"I'm afraid I am--hatefully puny!" I exclaimed, casting a disparagingglance at my proportions.
"Smallish," nodded Jessamy, "smallish, but that ain't a matter to weepover, brother. Small muscles is quicker than big. Moreover, the Lordhas given you a sound and healthy body and left you to develop an' dothe best wi' it. Fresh air an' exercise, sledge 'ammer an' bellers'llwork wonders in a week or so, mark my words. Now come on an' keep yourweather peeper on my right, for look'ee your left is a feeler, good tokeep your man away, to jolt him now an' then an' to feint him to anopening, then it's in wi' your right an' all o' you behind it--that'smy 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 Imeant to win, or p'raps again because I knew how. However, thefightin' game is all vanity an' vexation an' keep your ogles on myright! Now, into me, lad, an' hit hard--that's your fashion--try formy chin but don't forget my right! Swing in for my ribs, Perry--andheartily! 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 smackedhome upon my ribs or face while I wasted myself in futile yetexceedingly earnest efforts to smite in turn his ever-moving body orelusive, wagging head, what time over and under and through my guardshot his terrible fists, to tap me lightly here, to pat me there untilmy breath grew short. And now, while I stood to get my wind, heexplained how it was done, showing me sudden volts and turns andshifts which he termed foot-work. He showed me how to drive inshort-arm blows, swinging from the hips, and how to evade them; how,when occasion favoured, to hit from the shoulder with all my strengthand weight behind the blow, and how to meet a ducking head with whathe called an uppercut, just such a terrible stroke as had caused thedownfall of the big man Tom.
Thus Jessamy alternately smote and lectured me until, warned byDiana's clear call, we donned shirts and waistcoats and strode away tobreakfast.
"And how's he shaping, Jessamy?" enquired the Tinker, serving out ham,pink and savoury, from the hissing frying pan, while Diana poured outthe coffee.
"None s' bad," answered Jessamy; "he's quick an' willing an' don'tmind bein' knocked down now and then, which is a good thing--you wentdown pretty frequent that last round, brother!" Here Diana, noting mybattered dishevelment, scowled at Jessamy adorably.
"It ain't--isn't needful to hit quite so hard, is it, Jessamy?" sheenquired.
"Why, yes, Ann. Peregrine wants me to teach him to fight an' you can'tteach that to any man by tapping him, d'ye see."
"But, then, Jessamy," said the Tinker, with his twinkling, bright eyeson 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 couldnever endoor real good, hard knocks--"
"But it could, Jerry!" exclaimed Diana. "Nobody could hit him harderthan I've seen him hit, except Jessamy, p'raps." Now at this I wasseized of such a yearning to kiss her that I bent lower over myplatter lest the impulse prove ungovernable.
"It ain't size as counts, brother," added Jessamy, "no--not once in athousand; an' as for this cove Milo, big an' heavy an' slow as awaggon o' bricks, I could eat him alive any day. Though to be sure 'twould only be vanity an' vexation arter all," he added mournfully, "solet's talk o' better things."
"Why, then, Jessamy," said the Tinker, his eyes twinkling more thanusual, "what might be the pre-cise time by your chronometer?"
"It is now," replied Jessamy, solemnly consulting his watch, "exactlyfive an' three quarter minutes to seven, Jerry."
"Then I take leave to tell ye, you're exactly two minutes an' a halfslow," retorted the Tinker, glancing at his own.
"You're very silent, Peregrine; does aught grieve ye?" enquired theTinker.
"Did I shake ye up a bit too much, brother?" enquired Jessamyanxiously.
"No, no, indeed," I answered, "it is only that I am a--a littlethoughtful 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, orthere's liver an' bacon--"
"A shin o' beef!" said Diana in voice of finality.
"Stooed!" nodded the Tinker. "Stooed wi' plenty o' vegetables. A shino' 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'stoss for it." The which we did and the lot fell to Jessamy. "A coupleo' 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 asearly as possible, Jess; a shin o' beef ought to simmer for hours."
"Cheerily it is, Ann!" and catching up the canvas bag, Jessamyflourished his hat and strode off.
"How does Jessamy contrive to live?" I enquired.
"Lord, Peregrine," answered the Tinker, "Jessamy's rich--or was--madea 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 Ilighted the forge and got us to work. And very often above the ringand clamour of our hammers would rise the wonder of her voice singingsome wild air of the Zingari or plaintive old ballad; so often and sogloriously 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 Inever heard her sing so blithe an' happy-'earted. I wonder why?"
"Perhaps it is this wonderful morning," said I, watching the flutterof her gown amid the thickets across the little glade.
"Aye, most likely, for 't is surely a day o' glory, lad, a glory as isa-shining at me this moment out o' your eyes, Peregrine, singing inyour voice--"
"Jeremy," said I, reaching out to grasp his grimy hand, "O Jeremy, youare right. Love found me in the dawn and this morning Diana promisedto 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 limpedthe small and shabby yet stately form of Lord Wyvelstoke.
Peregrine's Progress Page 35
