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Be you a-thinking to meet that there other white animal on your road, Mrs. Peckaby?" "Perhaps I am," tartly returned Mrs. Peckaby. "One 'ud think so. You can't want to go out to meet ghostesses; you be a-going out to your saints at New Jerusalem. I'd whack that there donkey for being so slow, when he did come, if I was you."
"Sir, that's a matter that's hid from me," answered Mrs. Peckaby. "The gentleman that was sent back to me by Brother Jarrum, hadn't had particulars revealed to him. There's difficulties in the way of a animal on four legs which can't swim, doing it all, that I don't pretend to explain away. I'm content, when the hour comes, sir, to start, and trust. Peckaby, he's awful sinful, sir.
Arrived at the top of Clay Lane, the road was crossed, and the donkey was led down a turning towards the lands of Sir Rufus Hautley. It may have occurred to Mrs. Peckaby to wonder that the highway was not taken, instead of an unfrequented bye-path, that only led to fields and a wood; but, if so, she said nothing.
Was Mrs. Peckaby awake or asleep? Was the past blissful dream when she was being borne in triumph to New Jerusalem only an imaginary one? Was her present predicament real! Which was imagination and which was real? For the last hour she had been enjoying the realisation of all her hopes; now she seemed no nearer their fruition than she had been a year ago.
There was no superfluous attire to throw off, there was no hindering time with ablutions, there were no prayers. Mrs. Peckaby favoured the same convenient mode, and she had just put the candle out, when some noise struck upon her ear. It came from the road outside.
Not, even then, did a shadow of the cruel treachery played her darken the spirit of Mrs. Peckaby. Her faith in Brother Jarrum was of unlimited extent; she would as soon have thought of deceiving her own self, as that he could deceive. The rumour that the migration had taken place, the company off, awoke her from her happy security to a state of raving torture.
Whether the shop had been actually theirs, or whether it had been Roy's, there was no doubt that they had drawn sufficient from it to live comfortably and to find Mrs. Peckaby in smart caps. This source was gone, and all they had now was an ignominious fourteen shillings a week, which Peckaby earned.
Peckaby than this explanation. Had any mysterious vision appeared to herself, showing her that it was false, commanding her to disbelieve it, it could not have shaken her faith. If the white donkey arrived at her door that very night, she would be sure to mount him. "Do you think it'll be very long, sir, that I shall have to wait?" she resumed, feverishly listening for the answer.
"Come, Peckaby, you'll let her in," cried he, before he went away. "Let her in!" echoed Peckaby, "That would be a go, that would! What 'ud the saints say? They'd be for prosecuting of her for bigamy. If she's gone over to them, sir, she can't belong legal to me." Jan laughed so that he had to hold his sides, and Mrs. Peckaby shrieked and sobbed.
In the same moment, sundry other casements opened, and all the heads in the vicinity including the blacksmith Chuffs, and Mrs. Chuff's were thrust out to condole with their neighbour, Mrs. Peckaby. "Had she been and come back a'ready?" "Did she get tired of the saints so soon as this or did they get tired of her?" "What sort of a city, was it?" "Which was most plentiful geese or sage?"
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