The Broad Highway - Page 37/374

"Why, as to that," said I, over my shoulder, "I neither eat nor

drink with a man who doubts my word."

"Meanin' those forty shillin'?"

"Precisely!"

"Well," said he, twisting his whisker with a thoughtful air, "if

you could manage to mak' it twenty--or even twenty-five, I might

mak' some shift to believe it--though 'twould be a strain, but

forty!--no, damme, I can't swaller that!"

"Then, neither can I swallow your beef and ale," said I. "Wheer be

goin'?" he inquired, rising, and following as I made for the gate.

"To the end of the road," I answered.

"Then you be goin' pretty fur--that theer road leads to the sea."

"Why, then I'm going to the sea," said I.

"What to do?"

"I haven't the ghost of an idea," I returned.

"Can you work?"

"Yes," said I.

"Can ye thatch a rick?"

"No," said I.

"Shear a sheep?"

"No," said I.

"Guide a plough?"

"No," said I.

"Shoe a 'oss?"

"No," said I.

"Then ye can't work--Lord love me, wheer 'ave 'e been?"

"At a university," said I.

"Where, master?"

"At a place warranted to turn one out a highly educated

incompetent," I explained.

"Why, I don't hold wi' eddication nor book-larnin', myself,

master. Here I be wi' a good farm, an' money in the bank, an'

can't write my own name," said the farmer.

"And here am I, a 'first' in 'Litterae Humaniores,' selling my

waistcoat that I may eat," said I. Being come to the gate of the

yard, I paused. "There is one favor you might grant me," said I.

"As what, master?"

"Five minutes under the pump yonder, and a clean towel." The

farmer nodded, and crossing to one of the outhouses, presently

returned with a towel. And, resting the towel upon the pump-head,

he seized the handle, and sent a jet of clear, cool water over my

head, and face, and hands.

"You've got a tidy, sizeable arm," said he, as I dried myself

vigorously, "likewise a good strong back an' shoulders; theer's

the makin's of a man in you as might do summat--say in the plough

or smithin' way, but it's easy to see as you're a gentleman,

more's the pity, an' won't. Hows'ever, sir, if you've a mind to

a cut o' good beef, an' a mug o' fine ale--say the word."