After brisk competition these desirable appendages were knocked down to a demure and blushing damsel, who was forthwith requested, in a stentorian voice, to "try them on at once, and see how they fit."
Ere the laugh, elicited by this audacious suggestion, could die out, the vendor's eye, travelling round that circle of grinning faces, had recognised two acquaintances in the crowd. Also, and this seemed of greater moment, he suspected they recognised him in return. Of these the first was a square, thick-set man, in clerical attire, being indeed none other than Parson Gale. The second, tall, slender, swarthy, supple of limb, and graceful of gesture, was Fin Cooper, the gipsy. Each attended Dulverton Revel less for pleasure than business. The Parson, sore of heart, and brooding over his wrongs, was yet so far hampered by the necessities of domestic life that he had been obliged to ride down from the moor to this festivity for the purpose of engaging a kitchen wench, and his establishment bearing no high character for regularity and decorum, there appeared some difficulty in filling the situation.
In those convivial times, no affair, even of the most private nature, could be conducted without a great deal to drink, and the Parson, pledging one honest farmer after another in hard cider, dashed with villainous brandy, had arrived at a very morose and uncomfortable state, sober enough in head, but fierce, bitter, and sullenly despondent at heart.
Not so Fin Cooper. That worthy, who was indeed a temperate fellow by preference, whose frame had been toughened from childhood by continuous exercise, and who never slept under a roof in his life, possessed a constitution on which no stimulant less powerful than raw spirit seemed to produce the slightest effect. On the present occasion he had reasons of his own for keeping his wits at their brightest. Dulverton Revels, like all other gatherings of the Gorgios, afforded to every true Romany many opportunities for gain and peculation. There was jewellery to be exchanged with ardent suitors and the objects of their admiration. There were games to be played at cards with yokels patient of loss. There were horses to be sold, swapped, or even stolen, when occasion offered. There were a thousand ways and means, all more or less profitable, by which the gipsy could take advantage of his natural prey.
But Fin Cooper had yet another object, causing the dark eye to glance from face to face in restless search, the tawny hand to steal unconsciously under the wide sash that swathed his waist towards the handle of his knife. His suspicions that the girl he loved had set her heart on a ruffling Gorgio, confirmed themselves day by day. Dulverton feast would be a convenient place of meeting, and he had told Thyra that he himself meant to be twenty miles off. If she held an assignation here with her Gentile lover, he might be a witness to their interview, might verify her bitterest fears, and satisfy himself of the worst! Fin Cooper's face was evil to contemplate while he revolved this contingency, and the salesman, delivering the garters to his blushing customer, did not fail to draw his own conclusions from its scowl.
As for Parson Gale, he stood before the cart for several minutes in mute astonishment. Then he rubbed his eyes, stared, and exclaimed, "Katerfelto! as I'm a living sinner!" while he brought his broad hands together with a vigorous smack.
His exclamation was not lost on its object. The latter glanced stealthily round, bowed profoundly to his auditors, made them a little speech, in which, with many jocose allusions, he informed them he was about to shut up shop that he might eat his "bit of dinner," with a promise to re-open again at three o'clock, and in a very few minutes the cart had resumed its usual appearance and the proprietor had disappeared.
Half-an-hour later, behind a canvas screen, on the outskirts of the Fair, a priest and a gipsy might have been seen in earnest conversation, pacing to and fro, while they glanced about them as if loth to be overheard, though a donkey rolling on its back, and a horse tugging at a truss of hay, were the only eaves-droppers they had to fear. The gipsy's air was respectful, even deferential, while he listened to his companion. The latter seemed annoyed and distrustful. In his cunning, clever face might be read an expression of disappointment and something amounting to self-reproach.
"How long is it since I dwelt with your people in their tents and did my best to withhold the old Petulengro from the journey that grows easier at every step; it must be more than seven years?" asked the priest.
"Seven years and seven months, oh' my father!" replied Fin Cooper, "and you promised to teach me how to read the stars aright the night before you went away."