Chapter Thirty Two.
In which the Tinker makes Love.
Joey made his obeisance, and departed as if he was frightened, Miss Melissa watched him: at last she thought, “Tinker or no tinker? that is the question. No tinker, for a cool hundred, as my father would say; for, no tinker’s boy, no tinker; and that is no tinker’s boy. How clever of him to say that the letter was given him by a gentleman! Now I can send to him to interrogate him, and have an interview without any offence to my feelings; and if he is disguised, as I feel confident that he is, I shall soon discover it.”
Miss Melissa Mathews did not sleep that night; and at the time appointed she was sitting on the bench, with all the assumed dignity of a newly-made magistrate. Spikeman and Joey were not long before they made their appearance. Spikeman was particularly clean and neat, although he took care to wear the outward appearance of a tinker; his hands were, by continual washing in hot water, very white, and he had paid every attention to his person, except in wearing his rough and sullied clothes.
“My boy tells me, miss, that you wish to speak to me,” said Spikeman, assuming the air of a vulgar man.
“I did, friend,” said Melissa, after looking at Spikeman for a few minutes; “a letter has been brought here clandestinely, and your boy confesses that he received it from you; now, I wish to know how you came by it.”
“Boy, go away to a distance,” said Spikeman, very angrily; “if you can’t keep one secret, at all events you shall not hear any more.”
Joey retreated, as had been arranged between them.
“Well, madam, or miss (I suppose miss),” said Spikeman, “that letter was written by a gentleman that loves the very ground you tread upon.”
“And he requested it to be delivered to me?”