Part 19 (1/2)

Mum's my best friend, the only one ... though, whiles, It's seemed even he had blabbered out my secrets, And hollered them to rouse the countryside, And draw all eyes on me. But, I must mizzle.

JUDITH: You're going, Jim?

JIM: I'll not be taken here, Like a brock in his earth: I'll not be trapped and torn ...

Yet, I don't know. Why should I go? No worse To be taken here than elsewhere: and I'm dead beat: I'm all to rovers, my wit's all gone agate: And how can I travel in these boots? A week since The soles bid a fond farewell to the uppers: I've been Hirpling it, barefoot--ay, kind lady, barefoot.

You'd hardly care to be in my shoes, Judith?

While you've been sitting doose ...

JUDITH: I've known the road: I've trudged it, too, lad: and your feet are bleeding.

I'll bathe them for you, Jim, before you go: And you shall have a pair of Michael's boots.

JIM: So, I may have young master's cast-off boots, Since he's stepped into my shoes--a fair swap!

And tug my forelock, like a lousy tinker; And whine G.o.d bless the master of this house, Likewise the mistress, too ... By gox, I've come To charity--Jim Barrasford's come to mooch For charity at Krindlesyke! Shanks's mare's A sorry nag at best; and lets you down, Sooner or later, for certain--the last straw, When a man can't trust his feet, and his own legs Give under him, in his need, and bring him down A devasher in the ditch as the dogs are on him!

You're sorry? I don't know. How can I tell?

You're sly, you f.a.ggit; but don't get over Jim With jookery-pawkry, Judith: I may be maiselt, But I've a little rummelgumption left: I still ken a bran from a brimmer--bless your heart!

It suits you to get rid of me; and you judge It's cheaply done at the price of a pair of tackities.

Nay: I'll be taken here.

JUDITH: You cannot stay.

JIM: Do you take me for a cangling cadger, to haggle ...

Forgimety! I cannot ... G.o.d's truth, I dare not!

You've got me on the hop; and I must hirple; But if I go, I will not go alone: I've a mind to have a partner for this polka.

JUDITH: Alone? And who do you think that ...

JIM: Who but you?

JUDITH: I!

JIM: If I've got to take the road again, You've got to pad it with me: for I'm tired Of travelling lonesome: I've a mind to have My doxy with me. By crikes! I'm fleyed to face The road again, alone. You'll come ...

JUDITH: I cannot.

How could I leave ...

JIM: Then I'll be taken here: You'll be to blame.

JUDITH: But, Jim, how could I leave ...

JIM: The sooner it's over, the better I'll be pleased.

JUDITH: You mustn't stop: and yet, I cannot go.

How could I leave the bairn?

JIM: The brat's asleep.

JUDITH: It won't sleep long.