His two female companions saw that he was a little out of sorts, and when this was the case they did not pester him with any extraneous questions.
He was not a nice sort of man to deal with when put out, and he would not have hesitated to inflict personal chastisement on either of them, if they aggravated him.
They knew this perfectly well, and had the discretion to abstain from making any unnecessary observations.
But Peace was ill at ease, and as the evening drew on he put on his hat, and sallied forth for a walk in the neighbourhood.
He never had been what is termed a “public-house man,” and only had recourse to houses of that description either when plying his vocation as a violin player, or from necessity.
It is, however, a fact established beyond all controversy that he was not addicted to habits of intemperance. It was while strolling in the neighbourhood that he discovered, much to his delight, the well-known form of “Bandy-legged Bill.”
Nothing could be more propitious, for he wished to see the gipsy, beyond all other persons in the world, at that particular time.
As he caught sight of him his features were irradiated with a smile.
“Lord send I may live!” cried that worthy; “but this ’ere is a blessed sight.”
“What do you mean?” inquired Peace.