Part 11 (1/2)
”I'm not a Jew,” said Helmsley, smiling.
”Mebbe not--mebbe not--but yer name's awsome like it. An' if ye put it short, like D. David, that's just d.a.m.n David an' nothin' plainer. Aint it?”
Helmsley laughed.
”Exactly!” he said--”You're right! d.a.m.n David suits me down to the ground!”
Peke looked at him dubiously, as one who is not quite sure of his man.
”You're a rum old sort!” he said; ”an' I tell ye what it is--you're as tired as a dog limpin' on three legs as has nipped his fourth in a weasel-trap. Wheer are ye goin' on to?”
”I don't know,” answered Helmsley--”I'm a stranger to this part of the country. But I mean to tramp it to the nearest village. I slept out in the open yesterday,--I think I'd like a shelter over me to-night.”
”Got any o' the King's pictures about ye?” asked Peke.
Helmsley looked, as he felt, bewildered.
”The King's pictures?” he echoed--”You mean----?”
”This!” and Peke drew out of his tattered trouser pocket a dim and blackened sixpence--”'Ere 'e is, as large as life, a bit bald about the top o' 'is blessed old 'ead, Glory be good to 'im, but as useful as if all 'is 'air was still a blowin' an' a growin'! Aint that the King's picture, D. David? Don't it say 'Edwardus VII. D. G. Britt.,' which means Edward the Seventh, thanks be to G.o.d Britain? Don't it?”
”It _do_!” replied Helmsley emphatically, taking a fantastic pleasure in the bad grammar of his reply. ”I've got a few more pictures of the same kind,” and he took out two or three loose s.h.i.+llings and pennies--”Can we get a night's lodging about here for that?”
”Av coorse we can! I'll take ye to a place where ye'll be as welcome as the flowers in May with Matt Peke interroducin' of ye. Two o' them thank-G.o.d Britts in silver will set ye up wi' a plate o' wholesome food an' a clean bed at the 'Trusty Man.' It's a pub, but Miss Tranter what keeps it is an old maid, an' she's that proud o' the only 'Trusty Man'
she ever 'ad that she calls it an '_O_tel!”
He grinned good-humouredly at what he considered his own witticism concerning the little weakness of Miss Tranter, and proceeded to shoulder his basket.
”_You_ aint proud, are ye?” he said, as he turned his ferret-brown eyes on Helmsley inquisitively.
Helmsley, who had, quite unconsciously to himself, drawn up his spare figure in his old habitual way of standing very erect, with that composed air of dignity and resolution which those who knew him personally in business were well accustomed to, started at the question.
”Proud!” he exclaimed--”I? What have I to be proud of? I'm the most miserable old fellow in the world, my friend! You may take my word for that! There's not a soul that cares a b.u.t.ton whether I live or die! I'm seventy years of age--out of work, and utterly wretched and friendless!
Why the devil should _I_ be proud?”
”Well, if ye never was proud in yer life, ye can be now,” said Peke condescendingly, ”for I tell ye plain an' true that if Matt Peke walks with a tramp on this road, every one round the Quantocks knows as how that tramp aint altogether a raskill! I've took ye up on trust as 'twere, likin' yer face for all that it's thin an' mopish,--an' steppin'
in wi' me to the 'Trusty Man' will mebbe give ye a character. Anyways, I'll do my best for ye!”
”Thank you,” said Helmsley simply.
Again Peke looked at him, and again seemed troubled. Then, stuffing his pipe full of tobacco, he lit it and stuck it sideways between his teeth.
”Now come along!” he said. ”You're main old, but ye must put yer best foot foremost all the same. We've more'n an hour's trampin' up hill an'
down dale, an' the dew's beginnin' to fall. Keep goin' slow an'
steady--I'll give ye a hand.”
For a moment Helmsley hesitated. This s.h.a.ggy, rough, uncouth herb-gatherer evidently regarded him as very feeble and helpless, and, out of a latent kindliness of nature, wished to protect him and see him to some safe shelter for the night. Nevertheless, he hated the position.
Old as he knew himself to be, he resented being pitied for his age, while his mind was yet so vigorous and his heart felt still so warm and young. Yet the commonplace fact remained that he was very tired,--very worn out, and conscious that only a good rest would enable him to continue his journey with comfort. Moreover, his experiences at the ”Trusty Man” might prove interesting. It was best to take what came in his way, even though some episodes should possibly turn out less pleasing than instructive. So putting aside all scruples, he started to walk beside his ragged comrade of the road, finding, with some secret satisfaction, that after a few paces his own step was light and easy compared to the heavy shuffling movement with which Peke steadily trudged along. Sweet and pungent odours of the field and woodland floated from the basket of herbs as it swung slightly to and fro on its bearer's shoulders, and amid the slowly darkening shadows of evening, a star of sudden silver brilliance sparkled out in the sky.