


Transcribed from the 1907 J. M. Dent Edition by David Price, email
ccx074@coventry.ac.uk





THE ROMANY RYE


CHAPTER I


The Making of the Linch-pin--The Sound Sleeper--Breakfast--The
Postillion's Departure.

I awoke at the first break of day, and, leaving the postillion fast
asleep, stepped out of the tent.  The dingle was dank and dripping.  I
lighted a fire of coals, and got my forge in readiness.  I then ascended
to the field, where the chaise was standing as we had left it on the
previous evening.  After looking at the cloud-stone near it, now cold,
and split into three pieces, I set about prying narrowly into the
condition of the wheel and axletree--the latter had sustained no damage
of any consequence, and the wheel, as far as I was able to judge, was
sound, being only slightly injured in the box.  The only thing requisite
to set the chaise in a travelling condition appeared to be a linch-pin,
which I determined to make.  Going to the companion wheel, I took out the
linch-pin, which I carried down with me to the dingle, to serve as a
model.

I found Belle by this time dressed, and seated near the forge: with a
slight nod to her like that which a person gives who happens to see an
acquaintance when his mind is occupied with important business, I
forthwith set about my work.  Selecting a piece of iron which I thought
would serve my purpose, I placed it in the fire, and plying the bellows
in a furious manner, soon made it hot; then seizing it with the tongs, I
laid it on my anvil, and began to beat it with my hammer, according to
the rules of my art.  The dingle resounded with my strokes.  Belle sat
still, and occasionally smiled, but suddenly started up, and retreated
towards her encampment, on a spark which I purposely sent in her
direction alighting on her knee.  I found the making of a linch-pin no
easy matter; it was, however, less difficult than the fabrication of a
pony-shoe; my work, indeed, was much facilitated by my having another pin
to look at.  In about three-quarters of an hour I had succeeded tolerably
well, and had produced a linch-pin which I thought would serve.  During
all this time, notwithstanding the noise which I was making, the
postillion never showed his face.  His non-appearance at first alarmed
me: I was afraid he might be dead, but, on looking into the tent, I found
him still buried in the soundest sleep.  "He must surely be descended
from one of the seven sleepers," said I, as I turned away, and resumed my
work.  My work finished, I took a little oil, leather, and sand, and
polished the pin as well as I could; then, summoning Belle, we both went
to the chaise, where, with her assistance, I put on the wheel.  The linch-
pin which I had made fitted its place very well, and having replaced the
other, I gazed at the chaise for some time with my heart full of that
satisfaction which results from the consciousness of having achieved a
great action; then, after looking at Belle in the hope of obtaining a
compliment from her lips, which did not come, I returned to the dingle,
without saying a word, followed by her.  Belle set about making
preparations for breakfast; and I taking the kettle, went and filled it
at the spring.  Having hung it over the fire, I went to the tent in which
the postillion was still sleeping, and called upon him to arise.  He
awoke with a start, and stared around him at first with the utmost
surprise, not unmixed, I could observe, with a certain degree of fear.  At
last, looking in my face, he appeared to recollect himself.  "I had quite
forgot," said he, as he got up, "where I was, and all that happened
yesterday.  However, I remember now the whole affair, thunder-storm,
thunder-bolt, frightened horses, and all your kindness.  Come, I must see
after my coach and horses; I hope we shall be able to repair the damage."
"The damage is already quite repaired," said I, "as you will see, if you
come to the field above."  "You don't say so," said the postillion,
coming out of the tent; "well, I am mightily beholden to you.  Good
morning, young gentle-woman," said he, addressing Belle, who, having
finished her preparations, was seated near the fire.  "Good morning,
young man," said Belle, "I suppose you would be glad of some breakfast;
however, you must wait a little, the kettle does not boil."  "Come and
look at your chaise," said I; "but tell me how it happened that the noise
which I have been making did not awake you; for three-quarters of an hour
at least I was hammering close at your ear."  "I heard you all the time,"
said the postillion, "but your hammering made me sleep all the sounder; I
am used to hear hammering in my morning sleep.  There's a forge close by
the room where I sleep when I'm at home, at my inn; for we have all kinds
of conveniences at my inn--forge, carpenter's shop, and
wheel-wright's,--so that when I heard you hammering I thought, no doubt,
that it was the old noise, and that I was comfortable in my bed at my own
inn."  We now ascended to the field, where I showed the postillion his
chaise.  He looked at the pin attentively, rubbed his hands, and gave a
loud laugh.  "Is it not well done?" said I.  "It will do till I get
home," he replied.  "And that is all you have to say?" I demanded.  "And
that's a good deal," said he, "considering who made it.  But don't be
offended," he added, "I shall prize it all the more for its being made by
a gentleman, and no blacksmith; and so will my governor, when I