"Who indeed?" said I, setting down my hammer. "Jack is often as
good as his master--and a great deal better."
"Why, nobody!" nodded the Postilion, "not a soul till we opened
our mouths; an' then 'twould be easy enough, for my lord, or
earl, or gentleman, bein' naked, an' not likin' it (which would
only be nat'ral), would fall a-swearin' 'eavens 'ard, damning
everybody an' cursin' everything, an' never stop to think, while
I--not bein' born to it--should stand there a-shiverin' an'
tryin' a curse or two myself, maybe--but Lord! mine wouldn't
amount to nothin' at all, me not bein' nat'rally gifted, nor yet
born to it--an' this brings me round to 'er!"
"Her?"
"Ah--'er! Number Two--'er as quarrelled wi' Number One all the
way from London--'er as run away from Number One--wot about--'er?"
Here he fell to combing his hair again with his whip-handle,
while his quick, bright eyes dodged from my face to the glowing
forge and back again, and his clean-shaven lips pursed themselves
in a soundless whistle. And, as I watched him, it seemed to me
that this was the question that had been in his mind all along.
"Seeing she did manage to run away from him--Number One--she is
probably very well," I answered.
"Ah--to be sure! very well, you say?--ah, to be sure!" said the
Postilion, apparently lost in contemplation of the bellows; "an'
--where might she be, now?"
"That I am unable to tell you," said I, and began to blow up the
fire while the Postilion watched me, sucking the handle of his
whip reflectively.
"You work oncommon 'ard--drownd me if you don't!"
"Pretty hard!" I nodded.
"An' gets well paid for it, p'r'aps?"
"Not so well as I could wish," said I.
"Not so well as 'e could wish," nodded the Postilion, apparently
addressing the sledge-hammer, for his gaze was fixed upon it.
"Of course not--the 'arder a man works the wuss 'e gets paid--'ow
much did you say you got a week?"
"I named no sum," I replied.
"Well--'ow much might you be gettin' a week?"
"Ten shillings."
"Gets ten shillin' a week!" he nodded to the sledgehammer, "that
ain't much for a chap like 'im--kick me, if it is!"
"Yet I make it do very well!"
The Postilion became again absorbed in contemplation of the
bellows; indeed he studied them so intently, viewing them with
his head now on one side, now on the other, that I fell to
watching him, under my brows, and so, presently, caught him
furtively watching me. Hereupon he drew his whip from his mouth
and spoke.