"
"Well, pray continue," I urged.
But at this moment we became aware of a confused uproar, a ribaldry of
laughter and shouting. Round I started, to see we were approaching a
small inn, with a sign bearing the legend "The Ring o' Bells," before
which inn stood a number of vehicles and a rough crowd of merrymakers
who danced and sang and flourished ale-pots. Beholding this unholy
company, my alarm grew, for it seemed their vociferations were
directed at us.
"Pull up, Tinker--pull up and drink wi' us!" roared one.
"Aye--a drink, a drink, come down an' drink!" cried another.
"And bring the gal along wi' ye!" cried a third.
Suddenly, seeing Jeremy heeded them no whit, a big, swaggering fellow
stepped forward, a flashily dressed herculean figure in tops and
cords, his high-collared, brass-buttoned coat moulding a mighty chest
and spread of shoulder; which formidable person now advanced upon us
flourishing a quart pot and with divers of the riotous company at his
heels. No honest, sun-burned rustics these, but pallid, narrow-eyed
folk whose half-furtive, half-hectoring air gave me a sense of evil
streets, of dark alleys and dens where iniquity lurked, and my alarm
and abhorrence waxed acute, finding vent in words:
"What vile wretches!"
"Not so, brother!" answered Jessamy, viewing them with his kindly eyes
where they had halted across the road, barring our advance. "No,
brother, these are all souls to be snatched to the Lord, one way or t'
other, brands to be plucked from the--"
"Pull up, Tinker!" roared the big fellow threateningly.
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