"He was a rat, and she was a rat,
And down in one hole they did dwell;
And both were as black as a witch's cat,
And they loved one another well.
"He smelt the cheese, and she smelt the cheese,
And they both pronounced it good;
And both remarked it would greatly add
To the charms of their daily food."
—Anon.
The cargo for Ashville had been discharged, the stuff for Shendon stowed away. A fresh horse waited on the path; the gathering of people had scattered, carrying their goods and their gossip with them. The boy was feasting upon a hunch of bread and cheese, as a change from devouring his story. Bargee was in the act of stepping on board when a man laid a hand on his arm, and a rough voice arrested his steps. Two persons were standing beside him.
"Say, mate, will you give me an' my wife a lift as far as Engleton? We've been on tramp this last week, an' we're both dead beat."
Bargee looked curiously at the speaker, a great, ill-looking fellow, with coarse red hair and a crooked eye. From the man he glanced at his companion, a tall, broadly-built woman, with bold black eyes, olive skin, and flaming cheeks. They were the pair, in short, who had watched Darby and Joan from behind the clump of hazel bushes as they sat upon the tree-stump that day in Copsley Wood.
"Can't," said the young bargeman shortly. "It's against rules for this yer boat to carry passengers."
"Ay, ay, I know all that; but just for once you might oblige a chap. We could make it worth yer while," added the fellow insinuatingly.
"Do now," put in the woman in a wheedling voice, fixing her big, bold eyes on bargee's face. "My feet's blistered, an' my legs that stiff I couldn't walk another mile to save my life."
"Don't then," he answered shortly, preparing to push past her and get into the boat.