“Afraid,” growled the fellow, proceeding to unharness his horse; “that was the word, I think.”

But other figures were now already upon the scene.  Dashing past the other horse and cart, which by this time had reached the bottom of the pass, appeared an exceedingly tall woman, or rather girl, for she could scarcely have been above eighteen; she was dressed in a tight bodice, and a blue stuff gown; hat, bonnet or cap she had none, and her hair, which was flaxen, hung down on her shoulders unconfined; her complexion was fair, and her features handsome, with a determined but open expression.  She was followed by another female, about forty, stout and vulgar-looking, at whom I scarcely glanced, my whole attention being absorbed by the tall girl.

“What’s the matter, Jack?” said the latter, looking at the man.

“Only afraid, that’s all,” said the man, still proceeding with his work.

“Afraid at what?—­at that lad?  Why, he looks like a ghost—­I would engage to thrash him with one hand.”

“You might beat me with no hands at all,” said I, “fair damsel, only by looking at me:  I never saw such a face and figure, both regal—­why, you look like Ingeborg, Queen of Norway; she had twelve brothers, you know, and could lick them all, though they were heroes—­

   “’On Dovrefeld in Norway,
   Were once together seen,
   The twelve heroic brothers
   Of Ingeborg the queen.’”

“None of your chaffing, young fellow,” said the tall girl, “or I will give you what shall make you wipe your face; be civil, or you will rue it.”

“Well, perhaps I was a peg too high,” said I:  “I ask your pardon—­here’s something a bit lower—­

   “’As I was jawing to the gav yeck divvus {84a}
   I met on the drom miro Rommany chi—­’” {84b}

“None of your Rommany chies, young fellow,” said the tall girl, looking more menacingly than before, and clenching her fist; “you had better be civil.  I am none of your chies; and, though I keep company with gypsies or, to speak more proper, half and halfs, I would have you to know that I come of Christian blood and parents, and was born in the great house of Long Melford.”

“I have no doubt,” said I, “that it was a great house; judging from your size, I shouldn’t wonder if you were born in a church.”

“Stay, Belle,” said the man, putting himself before the young virago, who was about to rush upon me, “my turn is first.”  Then, advancing to me in a menacing attitude, he said with a look of deep malignity, “‘Afraid’ was the word, wasn’t it?”

“It was,” said I, “but I think I wronged you; I should have said, aghast—­you exhibited every symptom of one labouring under uncontrollable fear.”

The fellow stared at me with a look of stupid ferocity, and appeared to be hesitating whether to strike or not:  ere he could make up his mind, the tall girl stepped forward, crying, “He’s chaffing; let me at him!” and, before I could put myself on my guard, she struck me a blow on the face which had nearly brought me to the ground.