"Or … forget me, Jerry?"
"What—Ann? Lord love ye—no! She ain't one to forget or change—never was, an' I've knowed her since a little child. An' she's never loved afore—hated men! An' why? Because 't was always her beauty as they wanted—her body—an' never a thought of her mind, d'ye see! An' now—she's to travel to see the world, is she! An' with the Earl—an' him such a great gentleman! 'T is wonderful good fortun' for her, Peregrine, wonderful!"
"Yes, he is a very great gentleman and a truly noble man, Jerry."
"An' now, what o' yourself, lad?"
"I shall continue to live with you, Jerry; I shall go on smithing and tinkering—yes, harder than ever—"
"No!" said the Tinker, sitting back on his heels and shaking his head at me with the utmost vehemence. "Tinkering ain't for you, Peregrine, an' you can do better things than swingin' a sledge—ah, a sight better!"
"What do you suppose I can do?" sighed I miserably.
"Paint pictoors!"
"Impossible! I shall never be a real painter, Jerry."
"Well, then—write!"