Thus bellows roared and hammers rang until the sun was high and the
Tinker, returning the half-forged billhook to the fire, straightened
his back and wiped the sweat from sooty brow with sooty hand.
"We shall make a tidy smith of him yet, eh Anna?"
"In time--with patience!" she nodded.
"The question is--wages. What ought us to pay him, Ann?"
"Nothing!" said I.
"Five shillings," said Diana.
"Good, we'll make it seven shillings a week to begin wi'," quoth the
Tinker, and whipping the glowing bill from the fire, he clapped it on
the anvil and at sign from him I whirled up the sledge and brought it
down with resounding clank, which he followed with two blows from his
lighter hammer, and we fell to it merrily, thus: Clang--chink, chink!
Clang--chink, chink! While with every stroke the bill took on form and
semblance, growing more and more into what a billhook should be.
"A good thick steak, I think you said, Anna?" enquired the Tinker,
while I blew the fire for the next heat.
"And fried onions, Jerry."
"Steak an' onions!" he exclaimed, rolling his eyes ecstatically. "Did
ye hear that, Perry? And to make good vittles better, there's nowt
like smithing! The only thing agin' steak an' onions is that there's
never enough onions!"
"There will be this time!" said Diana, with another nod.
"D'ye hear that, Perry? Lord, I am that ravenous!"
"But 'tis scarce twelve o'clock yet, Jerry."
"Are you hungry, friend Peregrine?"
"I always am, lately.
Pages:
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220