Perceval Gibbon

“ The doctor was a man of power; he laid the farm waste between anger and urgency. In two minutes he had called Gruden apt coarse names that crumpled that economist like waste paper; he then roused the wife of the staunch Bill and pressed her into service; he invaded the farmhouse, and commandeered milk for Miss Gregory and whiskey for the tramp. Then he shut himself into the barn, the confidant and minister of the powers of life and death ”

“ Miss Gregory felt herself reddening in the lantern-light. It was plain that she had failed to impress Gruden; he was merely playing with her, and believing her not at all. It would have been fine to produce a purse forthwith and flatten him with a show of unlimited gold for the mere satisfaction of seeing him grovel. But she gathered herself for a last effort.
"Look here," she said strongly; "you can spare yourself the trouble of trying to be impertinent. If you can't see that you 're not dealing with a tramp, you are a fool. ”

“ He was a lean and hardy ancient, with a hayband of whiskers under his chin, and an aspect of wry, dry wisdom about his weather-rough, sun-bitten face.
"She ain't no tramp." he said slowly.
"Quite right," said Miss Gregory; "you 're not such a fool as your master. He wants you to run the risk of getting your legs cut off with this scythe now, and of going to jail to-morrow."
"Don't harken to her," growled Gruden. "She can talk the hind leg off a dog. You, Bill, you get a bat and twizzle that there scythe outen her hands." ”

“ His swinging lantern had discovered them. The dog had bounced straight to the gate, but now came after them. Miss Gregory had the woman's arm across her broad shoulders, and did not turn her head. The tramp, who served as rear guard, must be trusted to do his part. As it happened, he did it well. The dog, a big half-bred retriever, came racing up, and the man, stepping forward, met it with a smashing kick that bowled it along the ground to the feet of its master.
"You swine!" yelled Gruden, dancing. ”

“ She sat upright in the hay, listening to the breathing of the woman at her side and thinking in snatches how strangely she had stepped from the dull decency and security of her life at Addington Hall. England is a wonderful land; its complacent bosom harbours all the varieties of men, and life and death jostle each other among them. ”

“ While she stood in their midst, under the old woman's horrid fluency, one of them must have picked her pocket and let her go adrift, to lose her way in a mesh of by-roads and discover herself penniless. ”

“ Are you goin' now?"
"It's murder!" cried Miss Gregory. "If you won't give her a bed, she can lie in your barn. She sha'n't go out to the road!"
"Eh?" shouted Gruden. "She sha'n't, you say? Us 'll see if she sha'n't in a moment."
He dived at the door of the house and vanished within.
"He's gone to fetch a dog," said Miss Gregory. "Here—lift your wife up and give her to me. I 'll take her to the barn there, and you come behind us and keep the dog off."
The tramp obeyed wordlessly. Miss Gregory and her burden were half way across the yard when the lantern issued again from the house. ”

“ One has merely to step aside from one's ordered path to find new worlds.
It was the raucous voice of Gruden returning across the yard that brought her to her feet again.
"A rough-lookin' old 'oman she is, too," he was telling some one, "an' if you haves to fetch her a clout with a bat, fetch 'er a good 'un. Ain't going to 'ave my rickses burned twice for want of a bit o' cloutin', I ain't! In here they be, a brace of 'em."
The barn door was swung back, and Gruden, with his lantern, was again visible. ”

“ You 've been saved against your will from doing murder, but you 'll have to be punished."
"She ain't no tramp," rumbled the old man, with conviction, from the background.
"Even the tramps on the roads know your reputation," pursued Miss Gregory. "I don't wonder your ricks were burned. You earned it by meanness and cruelty; and after to-night you shall be paid in full. You 've driven helpless people from your doors for years. Well, if I can arrange it, you shall be driven out, too."
"You—!" Gruden swore.
Miss Gregory lifted a contemptuous hand. "You can go now," she said. ”

“ It is a rich race that can afford to waste such flesh and blood.
"I'm afraid I have no money with me," said Miss Gregory, watching him.
"Money!" cried the tramp, and swore in a whisper. "It ain't money I asked for. A barn, a cow-house—anything with a roof! We 're not tramps, lady—not reg'lar tramps, we ain't. She was brought up respectable. I'm a smith by trade, lady, and I ain't had a job for five months. If you can 'elp us, I 'll work—I 'll work at anything. Only gimme a chance—you 'll see 'ow I 'll work! Lady! Lady! ”

“ They were nearly abreast of the milestone before the man, looking over his companion's head, was aware of Miss Gregory sitting upright and motionless by the hedge. He halted at once.
"Lady," he said, with hoarse suddenness, "can ye tell us where we 'll get a bit o' shelter for the night?"
I can't," answered Miss Gregory. "I 've lost my way; I don't know this neighbourhood at all."
The woman hung on the man's arm with her head drooped; she looked as if she would fall on her face if he withdrew it. When he stopped, she remained as she was without lifting her face. ”

“ But if you can find the way to any farm or house near here, your wife shall have shelter. Do you understand?"
"Gord bless yer!" said the tramp.
"D'you know of any place?" demanded Miss Gregory.
"Yes," said the tramp. "There's Gruden's farm over along 'ere. We could get 'er there, but——"
"But what?"
"Well, mum," said the tramp, "Gruden, he don't allow no tramps on his farm. A terrible old man, Gruden is—'ard as flints. 'E sets 'is dogs on people that beg."
"Does he?" said Miss Gregory. "We 'll teach him better, then. We 'll go to Gruden's." ”