is not treating me over civilly,—­however, I am ready to put up with it, and to go with you if you like, for I bear no malice.  I’m sorry for what has happened, but you have only yourselves to thank for it.  Now, shall I go with you, only tell me?’ The man made no manner of reply, but flogged his horse.  The woman, however, whose passions were probably under less control, replied, with a screeching tone, ’Stay where you are, you jade, and may the curse of Judas cling to you,—­stay with the bit of a mullo whom you helped, and my only hope is that he may gulley you before he comes to be . . . .  Have you with us, indeed! after what’s past! no, nor nothing belonging to you.  Fetch down your mailia go-cart and live here with your chabo.’  She then whipped on the horse, and ascended the pass, followed by the man.  The carts were light, and they were not long in ascending the winding path.  I followed to see that they took their departure.  Arriving at the top, I found near the entrance a small donkey-cart, which I concluded belonged to the girl.  The tinker and his mort were already at some distance; I stood looking after them for a little time, then taking the donkey by the reins I led it with the cart to the bottom of the dingle.  Arrived there, I found Belle seated on the stone by the fireplace.  Her hair was all dishevelled, and she was in tears.

‘They were bad people,’ said she, ’and I did not like them, but they were my only acquaintance in the wide world.’

{picture:The tinker and his mort were already at some distance; I stood looking after them for a little time:  page488.jpg}

CHAPTER LXXXVI

At tea—­Vapours—­Isopel Berners—­Softly and kindly—­Sweet pretty creature—­Bread and water—­Two sailors—­Truth and constancy—­Very strangely.

In the evening of that same day the tall girl and I sat at tea by the fire, at the bottom of the dingle; the girl on a small stool, and myself, as usual, upon my stone.

The water which served for the tea had been taken from a spring of pellucid water in the neighbourhood, which I had not had the good fortune to discover, though it was well known to my companion, and to the wandering people who frequented the dingle.

‘This tea is very good,’ said I, ’but I cannot enjoy it as much as if I were well:  I feel very sadly.’

‘How else should you feel,’ said the girl, ’after fighting with the Flaming Tinman?  All I wonder at is that you can feel at all!  As for the tea, it ought to be good, seeing that it cost me ten shillings a pound.’

‘That’s a great deal for a person in your station to pay.’

’In my station!  I’d have you to know, young man—­however, I haven’t the heart to quarrel with you, you look so ill; and after all, it is a good sum for one to pay who travels the roads; but if I must have tea, I like to have the best; and tea I must have, for I am used to it, though I can’t help thinking that it sometimes fills my head with strange fancies—­what some folks call vapours, making me weep and cry.’