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He stood for a moment watching the men pushing up against one another in order to give him a seat at the table, and a smile, half-amused, half-ironical, lighted up his sun-browned, handsome face. "Don't put yourselves out, mates!" he said carelessly. "Mind Feathery's toes! if you tread on his corns there'll be the devil to pay! Hullo, Matt Peke! How are you?" Matt rose and shook hands.
After this I walked off to see N'yamasore, taking my blankets, a pillow, and some cooking-pots to make a day of it, and try to win the affections of the queen with sixteen cubits bindera, three pints peke, and three pints mtende beads, which, as Waganda are all fond of figurative language, I called a trifle for her servants.
It was of a conveniently portable shape, and Helmsley slipped it into one of his coat pockets with ease. "Shall you be seeing Peke soon again, Miss Tranter?" he asked. "I don't know. Maybe so, and maybe not. He's gone on to Crowcombe. I daresay he'll come back this way before the end of the month. He's a pretty regular customer."
Dear, dear me! 'You 'aven't bin much in the country p'r'aps? sez I. 'I'm always in the country, 'e sez 'I motor everywhere, but I've missed the cuckoo somehow! An' then the chauffy puts the machine right, an' he jumps in an' gives me a shillin'. 'Thank-ye, my man! sez 'e 'I'm glad you told me 'twas a real cuckoo! Hor er hor er hor er!" And Peke gave vent to a laugh peculiarly his own.
"Friend!" declared Peke emphatically, while Bill Bush and one or two of the men exchanged significant looks and nudged each other. "Now, Tom, none of yer gypsy tantrums! I knows all yer Romany gibberish, an' I ain't takin' any.
"Ay, there's a mighty sight of tringum-trangums an' nonsense i' the world," went on Peke, still occasionally giving vent to a suppressed "Hor er hor" "an' any amount o' Tom Conys what don't know a real cuckoo from a sham un'. Glory be good to me! Think o' the numskulls as goes in for pendlecitis! There's a fine name for ye! Pendlecitis! Hor er hor!
Take 'em all round, the wimin's the bravest at bearin' pain, they'll smile while they'se burnin' so as it sha'n't ill-convenience anybody. Wonderful sufferers, is wimin!" "Yet they are selfish enough sometimes," said Helmsley, quickly. "Selfish? Wheer was ye born, D. David?" queried Peke "An' what wimin 'ave ye know'd? Town or country?" Helmsley was silent.
"The love-star's allus up early o' nights to give the men an' maids a chance!" "Yes, Venus is the evening star just now," rejoined Helmsley, half-absently. "Stow Venus! That's a reg'lar fool's name," said Peke surlily. "Where did ye git it from? That aint no Venus, that's just the love-star, an' it'll be nowt else in these parts till the world-without-end-amen!" Helmsley made no answer.
I've took ye up on trust as 'twere, likin' yer face for all that it's thin an' mopish, an' steppin' in wi' me to the 'Trusty Man' will mebbe give ye a character. Anyways, I'll do my best for ye!" "Thank you," said Helmsley simply. Again Peke looked at him, and again seemed troubled. Then, stuffing his pipe full of tobacco, he lit it and stuck it sideways between his teeth.
"You would become that most envied creature of the present age, a millionaire," said Helmsley; "you could command your own terms for the wonderful leaves, you would cease to tramp the road or to gather herbs, and you would live in luxury like a king!" "Not I!" and Peke gave a grunt of contempt. "Kings aint my notion of 'appiness nor 'onesty neither.
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