"Yes! you do live," said Jasper, much interested—for how to live at all was at that moment a matter of considerable doubt to himself; "you do live—it is amazing! How?"
"The Faithful tells fortunes; and sometimes we pick up windfalls—widows and elderly single ladies—but it is dangerous. Labour is sweet, sir: but not hard labour in the dungeons of a Bridewell. She has known that labour, sir; and in those intervals I missed her much, Don't cry, Hag; "I repeat, I live!"
"I understand now; you live upon her! They are the best of creatures, these hags, as you call them, certainly. Well, well, no saying what a man may come to! I suppose you have never seen Waife, nor that fellow you say was so well-dressed and good-looking, and who sold you the Phenomenon, nor the Phenomenon herself—Eh?" added Losely, stretching himself, and yawning, as he saw the brandybottle was finished.
"I have seen Waife—the one-eyed monster! Aha!—I have seen him!—and yesterday too; and a great comfort it was to me too!"
"You saw Waife yesterday—where?"
"At Ouzelford, which I and the Faithful left this morning."
"And what was he doing?" said Losely, with well-simulated indifference.
"Begging, breaking stones, or what?"
"No," said Rugge, dejectedly; "I can't say it was what, in farcical composition, I should call such nuts to me as that, sir. Still, he was in a low way—seemed a pedlar or a hawker, selling out of a pannier on the Rialto—I mean the Cornmarket, sir—not even a hag by his side, only a great dog—French. A British dog would have scorned such fellowship. And he did not look merry as he used to do when in my troop. Did he, Hag?"
"His conscience smites him," said the Hag, solemnly.
"Did you speak to him?"