"Then, sir--come and eat," he answered, "and don't go 'mistering' me; I'm Tinker Jarvis and Jerry to my friends." "Then please don't call me 'sir'--my name is Peregrine." "Then it's a bargain, friend Peregrine!" said he, and led us into the deeps of the wood where was a small clearing well shut in by bush and thicket; and here burned a fire that crackled cheerily beneath a bubbling pot, a fire whose dancing light showed me the three-legged stool, the dingy tent and Diogenes the pony tethered near by, who, having lifted shaggy head to snuff towards us enquiringly, fell to cropping the grass again. And beholding all this, the Tinker's shrewd and kindly face and Diana smiling at me across the fire, I felt a sense of rest and companionship vastly comforting. CHAPTER XXIII DISCUSSES THE VIRTUES OP THE ONION "There's nothing like an onion!" said the Tinker, lifting pot-lid to lunge at the bubbling contents with an inquisitorial fork. "An onion is the king o' vegetables! Eat it raw and it's good; b'ile it and it's better; fry it and it can't be ekalled; stoo it wi' a rabbit and you've got a stoo as savoury an' full o' flavour--smells all right, don't it, Ann?" he enquired suddenly and a little anxiously, for Diana had possessed herself of the fork and was investigating the pot's bubbling contents with that deft and capable assurance that is wholly feminine. "Smells savoury, don't it, Ann?" he questioned again, noting her puckered brow. "Very!" said I. "Did ye put in any salt or pepper, Jerry?" she demanded. "Drat my whiskers, never a shake nor pinch!" he exclaimed, whereupon Diana sighed, shook her head in silent reprobation and vanished into the dingy tent as one acquainted with its mysteries, leaving the Tinker gazing at the pot quite crestfallen. "A man can't always be for ever a-remembering everything, Ann!" said he, as she reappeared. "An' besides, now I come to think on it, I aren't so partial to pepper an' salt--" "A stew should never boil, Jerry!" she admonished. "Why, that's a matter o' taste," he retorted. "I always b'ile my stoos and uncommon tasty I find 'em--" "And a little thickening will improve it more," she continued serenely. "And if you had cut the rabbits a little smaller, it would ha' been better, Jerry. Still, I daresay I can make it eatable, so go an' talk to Peregrine and leave me to do it." Obediently the Tinker came and seated himself beside me. "Friend Peregrine," said he, jerking his thumb to the busy figure at the fire, "I stooed rabbits afore she was born--ah, hundreds on 'em!" "And boiled 'em hard as stones!" she added. "I've throve on b'iled rabbits, Peregrine friend, rabbits and other things cooked by these two hands, lived and throve on 'em these fifty-odd years--and you see me today a man hale and hearty--" "Which is a wonder!" interpolated Diana without glancing up from her labour. "Pray," said I, seeing him at loss for an answer, "what did you mean by the 'Brotherhood of the Roadside'?"