They went into the “Blue Lion,” and John duly had his glass, and departed amid the mirth of the assembled company. One facetious person enquired, with apparent innocence, but nudging his neighbour the while, if Luke did not intend to accompany him.
“We know the rules o’ the ’ouse,” he cried. “Miss Whiteside ’ull be on the lookout for ye, lad.”
Luke’s only response was to order himself another three-penn’orth; but being further pressed, he announced with great valour his intention of showing yon wumman as she’d not get the better of him. Nevertheless, when ten o’clock drew near, he began to fidget. Would Jinny really carry out her threat of locking him out if he did not appear at the appointed time? It was raining heavily, someone had recently reported, he was tired, and the memory of the snug little room under the roof appealed to him forcibly; moreover he would infallibly become the laughing-stock of the place if Jinny was as good as her word. When another quarter of an hour had passed, therefore, he arose, stretched himself, and remarked with feigned unconcern, that he was dog tired and would be glad to turn in. The wag aforesaid pulled out a huge Waterbury watch.
“Mak’ the best use o’ yo’r legs, mon,” he exclaimed. “Yo’ have but ten minutes to do the job. She’ll be gettin’ the bolt ready ’iled.”
Luke deemed it best to feign unconsciousness of the other’s meaning, and went slouching out of the house with as much dignity as was compatible with a devil-may-care aspect. He whistled loudly as he sauntered down the lane, but once he had fairly left the inn and its occupants behind, he took to his heels and ran. As he approached Jinny’s cottage, he observed with alarm that there was no light in the kitchen windows, though, as he sent the little gate swinging on its hinges, a faint ray shot through the keyhole of the door. He lifted the latch but the door did not yield. Then he struck the upper panel heavily with his clenched fist.
“Yo’d best open this door, missus,” he shouted out, in a voice thick with anger, “else I’d think nothin’ at all o’ breakin’ it down.”
There was a grinding of bolts within, and the door was flung open, revealing Miss Whiteside, flat candlestick in hand.
“Now look yo’ here, missus,” cried Luke, propping the door open with his broad shoulder, “a bargain’s a bargain! Half-past ten was the time yo’ named an’ it wants three minutes to that now.”
“It does nought o’ the kind,” responded Jinny indignantly. “Cuckoo’s gone five minutes sin’.”
“Cuckoo’s wrong then,” retorted Luke roughly, and he dangled his watch in the flickering light in order to confute her. Just as Jinny was shrilly asserting her belief in the infallibility of her cuckoo, the church clock struck the half-hour.