"Fairish, Jeremy, fairish!" answered Jessamy, in a sweet voice peculiarly rich and mellow. "Old Nick's a toughish customer d'ye see, and a glutton for punishment; wind him, cross-buttock him or floor him wi' a leveller amidships, but he'll come up smiling next round, ready and willin' for more, an' fight back at you 'ard as ever, alas!"
Here I got down from the cart that I might better behold the speaker, who now turned to glance at me with a pair of the kindliest blue eyes I had ever seen.
"Jessamy," said Diana, "this is my—my friend Peregrine as do want you to teach him the game."
"The game," repeated Jessamy, shaking his head a little ruefully, "the game's all vanity and vexation o' spirit! Besides, your young friend don't look cut out for the ring—"
"Lord, Jess, he don't want to be a fighter! Peregrine only wants to know how—"
"Why, that's different," sighed the ex-pugilistic champion, "though I ain't got the heart nor yet the time to teach any one—"
"But I want you to, Jessamy," said Diana imperiously.
"Why, that's different again, Anna, and so I don't mind showing him a thing or two if time and opportoonity offer."
"Are ye for Tonbridge Fair, Jessamy?" enquired the Tinker.
"I am so, Jerry. I'm a-marching, comrade, wi' royals and studden-sails set, messmate, and all for the glory o' the Lord, brother."