Cheap Jack Zita

Name: Cheap Jack Zita
Author: Baring-Gould, S. (Sabine)

Baring-Gould, S. (Sabine)

Great Britain -- History -- 19th century -- Fiction; Peddlers -- Fiction; Riots -- England -- Fens, The -- Fiction

'My father is dead,' replied Zita. 'That is just why I am at
Prickwillow.'

'Then I presume you are a roving Jill in quest of a Jack?'

'It is the place of the Jacks to run after the Jills,' said Zita; 'not
that I want one, thank you.'

'Hush! Hush! No impertinence to the Bench.'

'Beg pardon, I thought the impertinence came from the Bench to me.'

The sally produced some merriment. When it was subdued, the magistrate
in the chair assumed a grave manner, and inquired in a different tone—

'So you are staying at Mr. Drownlands' house? In what capacity?'

'I am a Cheap Jack,' said Zita. 'I have my van there, and horse, and
all my goods. We got stuck in the mud of the droves, when on our way
to Littleport, the night of Tawdry Fair. Father was took ill and
died. So I am lodging at Prickwillow, and I pay for my lodging in
blacking-brushes and slop-pails.'

'You are not, then, in any menial capacity—not receiving wages?'

'I am a Cheap Jack, laid by the heels through mud and frost,' answered
Zita. 'It is true I have sewn on some buttons for Master Drownlands,
and have hemmed the linen, and he gives me house-room for my van and me
and the horse, till the dry weather comes and we can move away.'

'Well, enough of that. Tell us what you know about the events of the
sixteenth.'

'First of aw—aw—all,' interposed Sir Bates Dudley, who sat on the
right of the chairman. 'She has been put on her oath. Had we not
bet—tet—tet—er ascertain if she is aware of the nature of an oath?'

'Ah, to be sure! I suppose you were brought up as a Cheap Jack?'

'Always—since I was a baby.'

'And not in the most virtuous and godly manner, I fear?'

'I beg pardon, sir?'

Here the constable interposed. He stooped and said in Zita's ear,
'Address the Bench as "your worships."'

'I beg pardon, your worships. My father brought me up. There was not a
better man anywhere.'

'Then—do you understand the nature of an oath?'

'Father didn't swear but very little—off an' on like—and mostly at
Jewel, who was sometimes very provoking. But nothing like the man with
the merry-go-round—he swore awful.'

'I do not mean that. Do you comprehend that you have solemnly promised
to speak the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, and
that you have called Heaven to witness that it is so?'

'Yes,' said Zita, with a sigh; 'but it is hard—tremenjous.'

'What?—hard to speak the truth?'

'Yes, your worship—because of the general public. You never was a
Cheap Jack, was you, your worship?'

'No. Oh dear no, never—never!'

'I thought so. I never saw you at any of the fairs, but there was a man
who swallowed knives like that gentleman at your side.'

'Never mind about that.'

Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.

Opening the text

Cheap Jack ZitaBaring-Gould, S. (Sabine)

History

Cheap Jack Zita

Baring-Gould, S. (Sabine)

Great Britain -- History -- 19th century -- Fiction; Peddlers -- Fiction; Riots -- England -- Fens, The -- Fiction

'My father is dead,' replied Zita. 'That is just why I am at
Prickwillow.'

'Then I presume you are a roving Jill in quest of a Jack?'

'It is the place of the Jacks to run after the Jills,' said Zita; 'not
that I want one, thank you.'

'Hush! Hush! No impertinence to the Bench.'

'Beg pardon, I thought the impertinence came from the Bench to me.'

The sally produced some merriment. When it was subdued, the magistrate
in the chair assumed a grave manner, and inquired in a different tone—

'So you are staying at Mr. Drownlands' house? In what capacity?'

'I am a Cheap Jack,' said Zita. 'I have my van there, and horse, and
all my goods. We got stuck in the mud of the droves, when on our way
to Littleport, the night of Tawdry Fair. Father was took ill and
died. So I am lodging at Prickwillow, and I pay for my lodging in
blacking-brushes and slop-pails.'

'You are not, then, in any menial capacity—not receiving wages?'

'I am a Cheap Jack, laid by the heels through mud and frost,' answered
Zita. 'It is true I have sewn on some buttons for Master Drownlands,
and have hemmed the linen, and he gives me house-room for my van and me
and the horse, till the dry weather comes and we can move away.'

'Well, enough of that. Tell us what you know about the events of the
sixteenth.'

'First of aw—aw—all,' interposed Sir Bates Dudley, who sat on the
right of the chairman. 'She has been put on her oath. Had we not
bet—tet—tet—er ascertain if she is aware of the nature of an oath?'

'Ah, to be sure! I suppose you were brought up as a Cheap Jack?'

'Always—since I was a baby.'

'And not in the most virtuous and godly manner, I fear?'

'I beg pardon, sir?'

Here the constable interposed. He stooped and said in Zita's ear,
'Address the Bench as "your worships."'

'I beg pardon, your worships. My father brought me up. There was not a
better man anywhere.'

'Then—do you understand the nature of an oath?'

'Father didn't swear but very little—off an' on like—and mostly at
Jewel, who was sometimes very provoking. But nothing like the man with
the merry-go-round—he swore awful.'

'I do not mean that. Do you comprehend that you have solemnly promised
to speak the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, and
that you have called Heaven to witness that it is so?'

'Yes,' said Zita, with a sigh; 'but it is hard—tremenjous.'

'What?—hard to speak the truth?'

'Yes, your worship—because of the general public. You never was a
Cheap Jack, was you, your worship?'

'No. Oh dear no, never—never!'

'I thought so. I never saw you at any of the fairs, but there was a man
who swallowed knives like that gentleman at your side.'

'Never mind about that.'

Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.

Cheap Jack Zita

Cheap Jack Zita

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