“Half a crown,” said the woman quietly. “They’re the best coral money can buy, and I can only sell ’em so cheap as that because—”
“Oh, yes,” put in Gaunt drily. “Here’s the money. Now, Peggy, let me fasten it on for you—there! I told you ’twas all that was needed to set off the rest o’ you.”
Peggy felt a touch on her arm, and turned to find a plump rascal, with a pedlar’s tray in front of him. His face, a dusky red at all times—what between weather outside inn-walls and warmer cheer within them—was a deeper colour than its wont this morning, though his eyes were quick and roguish, and his spirits gay as ever.
“Ah, now, Peggy o’ Mathewson’s, come away from the booth,” he said. “Mother Lambert there has to pay for her stall, and the keep of a horse to drag it about fro’ place to place. Stands to reason her wares are dear to buy. Now, Pedlar Joe is his own pony—carries his booth in front of him, i’ a manner o’ speaking—and can afford to sell things cheap.”
“Ay,” put in Mother Lambert tartly from behind her booth, “cheap to buy, and dear when ye’ve got ’em. We all know your wares, Pedlar Joe.”
The pedlar sighed, and mutely called the high fells to witness that he needed no defence. “Women are that jealous,” he observed. Then, with a whimsical glance at Reuben, “Mr. Gaunt, ’tis ye that’s brought the Pride o’ the Fair to Linsall. Ye’ll have to buy her one of these lile scarfs. Peggy’s fond o’ bright colours, as she’s a right to be.”
Gaunt laughed as he put his hand in his pocket, for the pedlar was as well-known for twenty miles around as Kilnhope Crag, and he came and went like the wind, a chartered libertine. “Fond of bright colours, is she? Like your face, Joe, I take it. And, by that token, you’ve been polishing your face a little more than the ordinary.”
“Ay, I’ve been out i’ the sun more nor usual,” said the other shamelessly. “Wonderful chap, the sun is, for giving good colour to a body’s face. Now, Peggy, see this crimson scarf here; for old times’ sake, Mr. Gaunt, ye shall have it cheap for three-and-six.”
“Say one-and-six,” suggested Gaunt lazily.
“Nay,” said Joe with dignity. “I may be poor, sir, but I don’t go bargaining when there’s a lady nigh. Three-and-six I said, and two-and-six I stick to.”