"As ye will!" mumbled Tom. So, having aided his late antagonist to rise, Jessamy turned to nod and smile at us. "Drive on, brothers," said he, "I must bide here awhile on the Lord's business, so drive on. I'll look for ye at the fair." My stiffened fingers loosed the saucepan handle, for now all about us were faces that smiled and nodded cheerily, and as we jingled on our way again, the fickle crowd, their animosity quite forgotten, saluted us with ringing cheer. CHAPTER XXV TELLS OF MY ADVENTURES AT THE FAIR A hoarse clamour upon the air, shouts, laughter, the bray of horns, throbbing of drums, clashing of cymbals and tinkling of bells: a pandemonium that deafened me, a blatant uproar that shocked and distressed me as I stood, amid the hurly-burly of the fair--in it, not of it--staring about me for some glimpse of Diana or the Tinker who had vanished amid the surging crowd hours ago, it seemed, and whom I had sought vainly ever since. Thus I wandered, lost and none too happy, amid a jumble of carts and waggons, carriages and country wains, of booths and stalls and tents; amid a restless, seething crowd of people who pushed and strove more or less good-naturedly. Among all these unfamiliar sights and sounds I ranged disconsolate, awed by the vast concourse, deafened by the universal uproar, and not a little disgusted by the coarse humour and rough horse-play of this truly motley throng. On I went, a lost soul, pushed and jostled; past rows of gaudy tents and shows, each with its platform before it, where men and women, in outlandish livery and spangled tights, danced and sang, cracked broad jokes, beat drums, blew horns, or strove to out-roar each other in crying up their respective wares and wonders. One in especial drew my notice,--a stout, bull-necked Stentor in mighty cocked hat, whose brassy voice boomed and bellowed high above the din, so that I paused to observe him in wondering disgust. "In meat alone--in meat alone!" he roared. "Will eat 'is weight in meat alone! The famous and fab'lous Franko o' Florence, the fire-eatin', flame-swallerin', fat feller as weighs thirty-two stone if a hounce--seein's believin'--and all for a tanner--a tanner! Sixpence an' no more! Come and see Franko the fattest feller o' Florence as will eat fire, devour glass and swaller swords, and all for sixpence--for sixpence! See Franko as will dance ye a hornpipe, breakdown or double-shuffle wi' helegance and hease, bein' nippy, neat and nimble though weighin' thirty-two stone, seein's believin'--and all for a tanner--a tanner! Walk up, ladies and gents, an' don't be shy; walk up an' shake 'ands wi' Franko the fab'lous fat feller as can sing ye, dance ye, tell fortun's, forecast the future, cast 'orrer-scopes, strike na-tivities or stand on 'is 'ead--and all for sixpence--for sixpence!" In this fashion, or much like it, he held forth tirelessly until, chancing to meet my wide-eyed gaze, he immediately singled me out for his remarks thus: