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"Ah! but Jarge aren't got 'is arm in yet," retorted a third; "Jarge can do better nor that by a long sight!" But now all voices were hushed as Job paced up. "Eighty-two!" he announced. Black George looked hard at me, but, without speaking, stepped sulkily into the ring, moistened his palms, looked at me again, and seizing the hammer, began to whirl it as he had seen me.
"No, No, Peter." "And why not?" "I think, Peter." "But surely you can both think and sing, George?" "Not always, Peter." "What's your trouble, George?" "No trouble, Peter," said he, above the roar of the bellows. "Then sing, George." "Ay, Jarge, sing," nodded the Ancient; "'tis a poor 'eart as never rejices, an' that's in the Scripters so, sing, Jarge."
Called me 'is bye Jarge, 'e did!" and again he brushed his cuff across his eyes. "Masters I don't know who ye may be, but I'm grateful to ye an' more than grateful, sir. An' now I'm ready to go back an' finish my time." "How much longer is that?" "Three years, sir." "And when you come out, what shall you do then?" "Start all over again, sir; try to get some honest work an' live straight."
"Ah!" nodded Job, "them was your very words, 'bring 'im 'ome again, says you " "But you didn't bring 'im 'ome," continued Old Amos, "leastways, not in the cart wi' you. Dutton 'ere James Dutton see you come drivin' 'ome, but 'e didn't see no Jarge along wi' you no, not so much as you could shake a stick at, as you might say.
"Ah!" said the old man, nodding his head again, "to be sure, I've noticed, Simon, as 'tis generally about the twentieth o' the month as Jarge gets 'took." "'E 've got a wonderful 'ead, 'ave the Gaffer!" said Simon, turning to me. "Yes," said I, "but who is Black George; how comes he to be 'taken, and by what?" "Gaffer," said the Innkeeper, "you tell un." "No nor Wheer!" added the Innkeeper.
And presently, as we sat there drowsing in the sun, to us came one from the "tap," a bullet-headed fellow, small of eye, and nose, but great of jaw, albeit he was become somewhat fat and fleshy who, having nodded to me, sat him down beside the Ancient, and addressed him as follows: "Black Jarge be 'took' again, Gaffer!" "Ah!
Why didn't say so afore? Oi will hoide thee when oi comes back rarely! Polly, do thou run into Gardiner's, and Hoskings', and Burt's; tell 'em to cotch up a stick and to roon for their loives across t' moor toward t' mill. And do thou, Jarge, roon into Sykes' and Wilmot's and tell 'em the same; and be quick if thou would save thy skin. Tell 'em t' maister be loike to be attacked."
Silas would repeat solemnly. "An' it's gone ever since!" old Jasper would croak triumphantly. "Oh! 'e were a gen'us were my bye Jarge. 'Ell come a-marchin' back to 'is old feyther, some day, wi' 'is pockets stuffed full o' money an' bank-notes I knaw I knaw, old Jasper bean't a fule."
"I think he will, Prudence," said I. "God bless you, Mr. Peter!" she murmured. "God bless you!" But now came the sound of wheels and the voice of Simon, calling, wherefore I took my hat and followed the Ancient to the door, but there Prudence stopped me. "Last time you met wi' Jarge he tried to kill you. Oh, I know, and now you be goin' to "
Amos Baggett, the landlord, informed me on the Quiet that the "bye Jarge" was none other than old Jasper's only son a man now some forty years of age who, though promising well in his youth; had "gone wrong" and was at that moment serving a long term of imprisonment for burglary; further, that upon the day of his son's conviction old Jasper had had a "stroke," and was never quite the same after, all recollection of the event being completely blotted from his mind, so that he persisted in thinking and speaking of his son as still a boy.
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