"But I'm not a gentleman, confound you."
"Aw've been tu Lunnon, zur, an' ses I when I sees 'um, 'Thet's gentry, fur zure.'"
Dan contradicted him again, but receiving nothing but an obstinate shake of the head, rode off on his bare-backed steed, followed by the "Marnin', zur," of the landlord and attendant satellites. As a would-be tramp he was a distinct failure.
"There's nothing for it," said Dan, as Simon climbed the hill; "I must get an accent of some sort. Perhaps Mother Jericho will teach me how to patter. They don't teach the rural accent at Oxford, more's the pity. I must say 'marnin'' and 'zur' and 'oi,' or they'll see through my disguise at once. What the deuce made me come on this wild-goose chase? I don't say it's not amusing, but I'm such a palpable fraud that I can't even gain the confidence of the lower orders. They all call me 'zur' and grin, and expect to be tipped. Hang it, no; as a cheap-jack I bar tipping. Puh! Here's the top of the hill at last. Tired, Simon?"
Simon was tired, and intimated as much by refusing to move an inch for a few minutes. During the continuance of this fit of obstinacy his master gazed at the Gates of Dawn, and his thoughts reverted to the vision of sunrise.
"I wonder who that girl can be? I must see her again, if only to feast my eyes on the loveliest face I ever saw in my life. 'T' doctor's lass!' I'll get an ache or a pain, or something, and call on that doctor. I hope I won't be such a fool as to fall in love with Aurora! It would never do. You can't make a silk purse out of a sow's ear, and rustic beauty does not look at home in the silks and farthingales of London. That old woman said I should meet my fate at the Gates of Dawn. Is that wild rose my fate, and if so, is----? Pshaw! I'm talking nonsense, and breakfast is waiting! Move on, Simon."
From this speech it will be seen that Dan was by no means the person he represented himself to be. He spoke of London, of Oxford, of silks, satins, and tipping. Cheap-jacks are ignorant of such things. Even in looks he failed to impose on the rural population. Borrow, the glorious Bohemian, never would have recognized so arrant an impostor as one of the "fancy." Altogether Dan was rather crestfallen at his attempt to act the part of a cheap-jack, but could not help laughing at his own failure. To reverse the fable, this peacock could not strut in jackdaw plumes.
The fire was nearly out when he reached the camp, but an armful of sticks soon made it blaze merrily again. All was exactly as he left it, and Dan could espy no thievish footsteps about his caravan. The taboo of Mother Jericho was evidently efficacious, or her people were exceptionally honest. Knowing somewhat of the gipsy nature, Dan held to the former opinion.
"I wonder if the old lady will pay me another visit?" said Dan, as he busied himself getting breakfast; "she said something about coming here at noon. Or was it another person she mentioned? Well, I don't much care who it is, so long as they can instruct me as to the name and identity of Aurora. 'And Joy comes up through the Gates of Dawn.' What a pretty song she sang, and what a voice she has! and why don't you be sensible, Dan, and drop talking nonsense?"
He took his own advice, and ceased to soliloquize. Indeed, his culinary cares did not permit him to continue it. With a dexterity begotten by long practice, he soon prepared the meal. Eggs and bacon, fragrant coffee, and bread and butter. O Lavengro, think of such a meal in the wilderness! What pioneer is this, to feed on such dainties! Lucullus should not tramp the country with his kitchen on his back.