If closely questioned, he would admit having had a ‘job i’ the toon,’ or ‘ower away yonder,’ pointing vaguely this way or that; and gossip had at least this confirmation for its uncharitable suspicion, that he always returned pale, tired and haggard-looking.
Some of the boys had tried to ‘nab’ him either coming or going on one of these expeditions of his, but he was ‘cuter nor a cushat’[15] as I overheard a sporting youth lament who had followed him in early morning all the way to Oldcastle, and there in the suburbs had suddenly lost him just on the brink of discovering the secret.
Gradually we became accustomed to his flittings, and he was spied upon no more; but for my own part I thought I had, by a comparison of the times and seasons of his absences, at least discovered this much—that he was usually away at the incidence of fairs and festivals.
I think I knew him more intimately than any other person in the village, except, perhaps, our Methodist minister, who never rested till he had succoured any who might be in ‘sickness, sorrow, or distress’; but to neither of us, I found, on comparing notes, had he ever vouchsafed any confidences.
The only way in which I eventually discovered I could be of any use to him was by lending him books. He was extremely fond of reading, and had a special taste for dramatic poetry, which he occasionally gratified by coming to my lodgings, and there devouring the historical plays and tragedies of Shakespeare.
I had once or twice on these occasions endeavoured to extort from him the secret of his absences, but the only result had been an increased reserve on his part, followed by an almost immediate departure from my presence, so that I had soon desisted from further questioning him on the point.
At the same time, I confess I entertained a lingering hope that I might one day be able to penetrate the mystery; for mystery of some sort I was convinced it was, though not of a vulgar kind.
II.
It so chanced that I was detained in Bridgeton on the day of the annual fair and hiring, and having two hours to wait for my train, I determined to pass the time away by noting the humours of the festival. Farmers’ wives, laden with ‘remnants’ and cheap bargains in the hardware line, were slowly surging through the throng, towards the various publics, in search of their ‘men’ and the ‘trap.’ Hinds, male and female, having now ‘bound their bargains’ with their masters, were coasting round the booths and stalls, ‘putting in’ at all the ale-houses they passed in their uncertain voyaging.
The men were somewhat sheepish still, not having taken sufficient beer on board as yet to lose the shyness of the countryman in town. They confined themselves to chaffing one another, to casting stray glances at their sweethearts, who tittered in their wake, and to offering, when moved to gallantry, ‘anuther glass o’ yel.’