"And now, Mistress Waynflete," said I, "let us on to our inn."
"Our inn!" she echoed, and there was dismay in her voice. "Our inn, and I
haven't a pennypiece. For safety, I put my hat, my riding jacket, and my
purse under the bed at Marry-me-quick's, and the fight and hurry drove
them out of my mind completely."
"And I'm in the same case exactly," said I, and laughed outright. I had
little use for money at the Hanyards, least of all in the pockets of my
Sunday best, and not until she told me her plight did I realize the fact
that in the elation of starting from home, I had forgotten that money
might be necessary. Though I laughed, I watched her closely. Now she would
break down. No woman's heart could stand the shock.
"My possessions," she said, "are precisely two handkerchiefs, one of
Madame du Pont's washballs, and most of a piece of the famous
marry-me-quick."
I had been mistaken. She made no ado about our serious situation, but
spoke with a grave humour that fetched me greatly.
"Quite a lengthy inventory," I replied. "My contributions to the common
stock are--" and I fumbled in my pockets--"item, one handkerchief; item,
a pocket-knife; item, one pipe and half a paper of tobacco; item, one
flask, two-thirds full of Mistress Kate Wheatman's priceless peppermint
cordial, the sovereign remedy against fatigue, cold, care, and the
humours; item, something unknown which has been flopping against my hip
and is, by the outward feel of it, a thing to rejoice over, to wit, one of
Kate's pasties.
Pages:
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113