CHAPTER I
THE MAKING OF THE LINCH-PIN--THE SOUND SLEEPER--BREAKFAST--THEPOSTILLION'S DEPARTURE
I awoke at the first break of day, and, leaving the postillion fastasleep, stepped out of the tent. The dingle was dank and dripping. Ilighted a fire of coals and got my forge in readiness. I then ascendedto the field, where the chaise was standing as we had left it on theprevious evening. After looking at the cloud-stone near it, now cold,and split into three pieces, I set about prying narrowly into thecondition of the wheel and axle-tree--the latter had sustained no damageof any consequence, and the wheel, as far as I was able to judge, wassound, being only slightly injured in the box. The only thing requisiteto set the chaise in a travelling condition appeared to be a linch-pin,which I determined to make. Going to the companion wheel, I took out thelinch-pin, which I carried down with me to the dingle, to serve me as amodel.
I found Belle by this time dressed, and seated near the forge: with aslight nod to her like that which a person gives who happens to see anacquaintance when his mind is occupied with important business, Iforthwith set about my work. Selecting a piece of iron which I thoughtwould serve my purpose, I placed it in the fire, and, plying the bellowsin a furious manner, soon made it hot; then seizing it with the tongs, Ilaid it on my anvil, and began to beat it with my hammer, according tothe rules of my art. The dingle resounded with my strokes. Belle satstill, and occasionally smiled, but suddenly started up, and retreatedtowards her encampment, on a spark, which I purposely sent in herdirection, alighting on her knee. I found the making of a linch-pin noeasy matter; it was, however, less difficult than the fabrication of apony-shoe; my work, indeed, was much facilitated by my having another pinto look at. In about three-quarters of an hour I had succeeded tolerablywell, and had produced a linch-pin which I thought would serve. Duringall this time, notwithstanding the noise which I was making, thepostillion never showed his face. His non-appearance at first alarmedme: I was afraid he might be dead, but, on looking into the tent, I foundhim still buried in the soundest sleep. 'He must surely be descendedfrom one of the seven sleepers,' said I, as I turned away and resumed mywork. My work finished, I took a little oil, leather, and sand, andpolished the pin as well as I could; then, summoning Belle, we both wentto the chaise, where, with her assistance, I put on the wheel. Thelinch-pin which I had made fitted its place very well, and havingreplaced the other, I gazed at the chaise for some time with my heartfull of that satisfaction which results from the consciousness of havingachieved a great action; then, after looking at Belle in the hope ofobtaining a compliment from her lips, which did not come, I returned tothe dingle, without saying a word, followed by her. Belle set aboutmaking preparations for breakfast; and I, taking the kettle, went andfilled it at the spring. Having hung it over the fire, I went to thetent in which the postillion was still sleeping, and called upon him toarise. He awoke with a start, and stared around him at first with theutmost surprise, not unmixed, I could observe, with a certain degree offear. At last, looking in my face, he appeared to recollect himself. 'Ihad quite forgot,' said he, as he got up, 'where I was, and all thathappened yesterday. However, I remember now the wholeaffair--thunder-storm, thunder-bolt, frightened horses, and all yourkindness. Come, I must see after my coach and horses. I hope we shallbe able to repair the damage.' 'The damage is already quite repaired,'said I, 'as you will see, if you come to the field above.' 'You don'tsay so,' said the postillion, coming out of the tent; 'well, I ammightily beholden to you. Good morning, young gentlewoman,' said he,addressing Belle, who, having finished her preparations, was seated nearthe fire. 'Good-morning, young man,' said Belle, 'I suppose you would beglad of some breakfast; however, you must wait a little, the kettle doesnot boil.' 'Come and look at your chaise,' said I; 'but tell me how ithappened that the noise which I have been making did not awake you; forthree-quarters of an hour at least I was hammering close at your ear.''I heard you all the time,' said the postillion, 'but your hammering mademe sleep all the sounder; I am used to hear hammering in my morningsleep. There's a forge close by the room where I sleep when I'm at home,at my inn; for we have all kinds of conveniences at my inn--forge,carpenter's shop, and wheelwright's--so that when I heard you hammering,I thought, no doubt, that it was the old noise, and that I wascomfortable in my bed at my own inn.' We now ascended to the field,where I showed the postillion his chaise. He looked at the pinattentively, rubbed his hands, and gave a loud laugh. 'Is it not welldone?' said I. 'It will do till I get home,' he replied. 'And that isall you have to say?' I demanded. 'And that's a good deal,' said he,'considering who made it. But don't be offended,' he added, 'I shallprize it all the more for its being made by a gentleman, and noblacksmith; and so will my governor, when I show it to him. I shan't letit remain where it is, but will keep it, as a remembrance of you, as longas I live.' He then again rubbed his hands with great glee, and said, 'Iwill now go and see after my horses, and then to breakfast, partner, ifyou please.' Suddenly, however, looking at his hands, he said, 'Beforesitting down to breakfast, I am in the habit of washing my hands andface: I suppose you could not furnish me with a little soap and water.''As much water as you please,' said I, 'but if you want soap, I must goand trouble the young gentlewoman for some.' 'By no means,' said thepostillion, 'water will do at a pinch.' 'Follow me,' said I, and leadinghim to the pond of the frogs and newts, I said, 'this is my ewer; you arewelcome to part of it--the water is so soft that it is scarcely necessaryto add soap to it;' then lying down on the bank, I plunged my head intothe water, then scrubbed my hands and face, and afterwards wiped themwith some long grass which grew on the margin of the pond. 'Bravo,' saidthe postillion, 'I see you know how to make a shift:' he then followed myexample, declared he never felt more refreshed in his life, and, giving abound, said, 'he would go and look after his horses.'
We then went to look after the horses, which we found not much the worsefor having spent the night in the open air. My companion again insertedtheir heads in the corn-bags, and, leaving the animals to discuss theircorn, returned with me to the dingle, where we found the kettle boiling.We sat down, and Belle made tea and did the honours of the meal. Thepostillion was in high spirits, ate heartily, and, to Belle's evidentsatisfaction, declared that he had never drank better tea in his life, orindeed any half so good. Breakfast over, he said that he must now go andharness his horses, as it was high time for him to return to his inn.Belle gave him her hand and wished him farewell: the postillion shook herhand warmly, and was advancing close up to her--for what purpose I cannotsay--whereupon Belle, withdrawing her hand, drew herself up with an airwhich caused the postillion to retreat a step or two with an exceedinglysheepish look. Recovering himself, however, he made a low bow, andproceeded up the path. I attended him, and helped to harness his horsesand put them to the vehicle; he then shook me by the hand, and taking thereins and whip mounted to his seat; ere he drove away he thus addressedme: 'If ever I forget your kindness and that of the young woman below,dash my buttons. If ever either of you should enter my inn you maydepend upon a warm welcome, the best that can be set before you, and noexpense to either, for I will give both of you the best of characters tothe governor, who is the very best fellow upon all the road. As for yourlinch-pin, I trust it will serve till I get home, when I will take it outand keep it in remembrance of you all the days of my life:' then givingthe horses a jerk with his reins, he cracked his whip and drove off.
I returned to the dingle, Belle had removed the breakfast things, and wasbusy in her own encampment: nothing occurred, worthy of being related,for two hours, at the end of which time Belle departed on a shortexpedition, and I again found myself alone in the dingle.
The Romany Rye Page 4
