Part 22 (1/2)

”That seems pretty fair rot,” criticised Tilda. ”Let's 'ave the other.”

”_ Madam, he has reined up his steed. He stands without._”

Here Arthur Miles paused and drew breath.

”Without what?”

”It doesn't say. _He stands without: he waves a hand. Shall I go ask his errand? _”

”Is that all? . . . And Mortimer reckons I'll take from 'ere to Stratford learnin' that little lot! Why, I can do it in arf-a-minute, an' on my 'ead. You just listen. _Madam, a 'orseman_--No, wait a moment. _Madam, a Norseman_--” Tilda hesitated and came to a halt.

”Would you mind sayin' it over again, Arthur Miles?” she asked politely.

”_Madam, a horseman comes riding_--”

”That'll do. _Madam, a--H--h--horseman_--Is that better?”

”You needn't strain at it so,” said the boy. ”Why, you're quite red in the face!”

”Oh, yes, I need,” said Tilda; ”first-along, any'ow.” She fell silent for a s.p.a.ce. ”That Mortimer,” she conceded, ”isn' quite the a.s.s that 'e looks. This 'as got to take time, after all.” She paused a moment in thought, and then broke out, ”Oh, Arthur Miles, the trouble you're layin' on me--First, to be a mother--an' that's not 'ard. But, on top o' that, lady!”

”Why should you be a lady?” he asked.

”Why?” Tilda echoed almost bitterly. ”Oh, you needn' think I'll want to marry yer when all's done. Why? Oh, merely to 'elp you, bein' the sort you are. All you've got to do, bein' the sort you are, is to sit quiet an' teach me. But I got to be a lady, if it costs me my s.h.i.+ft.”

CHAPTER XII.

PURSUED.

At ten o'clock Sam harnessed up again, and shortly before noon our travellers left the waterway by which they had travelled hitherto, and pa.s.sed out to the right through a cut, less than a quarter of a mile long, where a rising lock took them into the Stratford-on-Avon Ca.n.a.l.

Said Sam as he worked the lock, the two children standing beside and watching--

”Now see here, when you meet your clever friend Bill, you put him two questions from me. First, why, when the boat's through, am I goin' to draw the water off an' leave the lock empty?”

Before Tilda could answer, Arthur Miles exclaimed--

”I know! It's because we 're going uphill, and at the other locks, when we were going downhill, the water emptied itself.”

”Right, so far as you go,” nodded Sam. ”But why should a lock be left empty?”

The boy thought for a moment.

”Because you don't want the water to waste, and top gates hold it better than lower ones.”

”Why do the top gates hold it better?”

”Because they shut _with_ the water, and the water holds them fast; and because they are smaller than the bottom gates, and don't leak so much.”

”That's very cleverly noticed,” said Sam. ”Now you keep your eyes alive while we work this one, an' tell me what you see.”