I found the Ancient sunning himself in the porch before the inn,
as he waited for his breakfast.
"Peter," said he, "I be tur'ble cold sometimes. It comes
a-creepin' on me all at once, even if I be sittin' before a roarin'
fire or a-baskin' in this good, warm sun--a cold as reaches down
into my poor old 'eart--grave-chills, I calls 'em, Peter--ah!
grave-chills. Ketches me by the 'eart they do; ye see I be that
old, Peter, that old an' wore out."
"But you're a wonderful man for your age!" said I, clasping the
shrivelled hand in mine, "and very lusty and strong--"
"So strong as a bull I be, Peter!" he nodded readily, "but then,
even a bull gets old an' wore out, an' these grave-chills ketches
me oftener an' oftener. 'Tis like as if the Angel o' Death
reached out an' touched me--just touched me wi' 'is finger,
soft-like, as much as to say: ''Ere be a poor, old, wore-out
creeter as I shall be wantin' soon.' Well, I be ready; 'tis
only the young or the fule as fears to die. Threescore years
an' ten, says the Bible, an' I be years an' years older than
that. Oh! I shan't be afeared to answer when I'm called, Peter.
''Ere I be, Lord!' I'll say. ''Ere I be, thy poor old servant'
--but oh, Peter! if I could be sure o' that theer old rusty
stapil bein' took first, why then I'd go j'yful--j'yful, but--
why theer be that old fule Amos--Lord! what a dodderin' old
fule 'e be, an' theer be Job, an' Dutton--they be comin' to
plague me, Peter, I can feel it in my bones. Jest reach me
my snuff-box out o' my 'ind pocket, an' you shall see me smite
they Amalekites 'ip an' thigh."
"Gaffer," began Old Amos, saluting us with his usual grin, as he
came up, "we be wishful to ax 'ee a question--we be wishful to
know wheer be Black Jarge, which you 'avin' gone to fetch 'im,
an' bring 'im 'ome again--them was your words."
"Ah!" nodded Job, "them was your very words, 'bring 'im 'ome
again,' says you--"
"But you didn't bring 'im 'ome," continued Old Amos, "leastways,
not in the cart wi' you. Dutton 'ere--James Dutton see you come
drivin' 'ome, but 'e didn't see no Jarge along wi' you--no, not
so much as you could shake a stick at, as you might say. Speak
up, James Dutton you was a-leanin' over your front gate as Gaffer
come drivin' 'ome, wasn't you, an' you see Gaffer plain as plain,
didn't you?"