"Which way did the lady go?" inquired Barnabas.
"Lady?" said the urchin, staring.
"Yes. She wore a cloak,--a gray cloak. Where did she go?" and
Barnabas held up a shilling. Instantly the urchin rose and, swinging
the pallid infant to his ragged hip, pattered over the cobbles with
his bare feet, and with one small, dirty claw extended.
"A bob!" he cried in a shrill, cracked voice, "gimme it, sir! Yus,
--yus,--I'll tell ye. She's wiv Nick--lives dere, she do. Now gimme
th' bob,--she's in dere!" And he pointed to a narrow door at the
further end of the alley. So Barnabas gave the shilling into the
eager clutching fingers, and approaching the door, knocked upon the
rotting timbers with the head of his cane.
"Come in!" roared a mighty voice. Hereupon Barnabas pushed open the
crazy door, and descending three steps, found himself in a small,
dark room, full of the smell of leather. And here, its solitary
inmate, was a very small man crouched above a last, with a hammer in
his hand and an open book before him. His head was bald save for a
few white hairs that stood up, fiercely erect, and upon his short,
pugnacious nose he wore a pair of huge, horn-rimmed spectacles.
"What's for you, sir?" he demanded in the same great, fierce voice,
viewing Barnabas over his spectacles with sharp, bright eyes.
"If it's a pair o' Hessians you'll be wanting--"
"It isn't," said Barnabas, "I--"
"Or a fine pair o' dancing shoes--?"
"No, thank you, I want to--"
"Or a smart pair o' bang up riding-jacks--?"
"No," said Barnabas again, "I came here to see--"
"You can't 'ave 'em! And because why?" demanded the little man, his
fierce eyes growing fiercer as he stared at Barnabas from modish hat
to flowered waistcoat, "because I don't make for the Quality.
Quality--bah! If I 'ad my way, I'd gillertine 'em all,--ah, that I
would! Like the Frenchies did when they revolutioned. I'd cut off
their 'eads! By the dozen! With j'y!"
"You are Nick, the Cobbler, I think?"
"And what if I am? I'd chop off their 'eads, I tell ye,--with j'y
and gusto!"
"And pray where is Clemency?"
"Eh?" exclaimed the little cobbler, pushing up his horn spectacles,
"'oo did ye say?"
"Where is the lady who came in here a moment ago?"
"Lady?" said the cobbler, shaking his round, bald head, "Lord, sir,
your heyes 'as been a-deceiving of you!"
"I am--her friend!"
"Friend!" exclaimed the cobbler, "to which I says--Hookey Walker, sir!
'Andsome gells don't want friends o' your kind. Besides, she ain't
here--you can see that for yourself. Your heyes 'as been a-deceiving
of you,--try next door."
"But I must see her," said Barnabas, "I wish to help her,--I have
good news for her--"