The pedlar sighed, and mutely called the high fells to witness that he needed no defence. “Women are that jealous,” he observed. Then, with a whimsical glance at Reuben, “Mr. Gaunt, ’tis ye that’s brought the Pride o’ the Fair to Linsall. Ye’ll have to buy her one of these lile scarfs. Peggy’s fond o’ bright colours, as she’s a right to be.” Gaunt laughed as he put his hand in his pocket, for the pedlar was as well-known for twenty miles around as Kilnhope Crag, and he came and went like the wind, a chartered libertine. “Fond of bright colours, is she? Like your face, Joe, I take it. And, by that token, you’ve been polishing your face a little more than the ordinary.” “Ay, I’ve been out i’ the sun more nor usual,” said the other shamelessly. “Wonderful chap, the sun is, for giving good colour to a body’s face. Now, Peggy, see this crimson scarf here; for old times’ sake, Mr. Gaunt, ye shall have it cheap for three-and-six.” “Say one-and-six,” suggested Gaunt lazily. “Nay,” said Joe with dignity. “I may be poor, sir, but I don’t go bargaining when there’s a lady nigh. Three-and-six I said, and _two_-and-six I stick to.” Peggy and Gaunt moved away, as soon as the bargain was completed, and Pedlar Joe strolled up to the booth. Mother Lambert and he were good friends enough, despite professional rivalry. “Looks as if Gaunt and wild-bird Peggy might make a match of it, after all?” he hazarded. “So that’s Peggy o’ Mathewson’s?” answered the booth-woman. “I’ve not been nigh Linsall for four or five years, as ye know, and the lass was a little ’un then. I’d forgotten her. But Gaunt--there’s no forgetting him. Maybe he’s caught at last. I had the same fancy when I saw ’em step over the green.” “Maybe,” chuckled the pedlar. “There’s allus a ‘maybe’ when folk mention Reuben Gaunt. Reuben--it means summat like water, if I call to mind--water that’s aye running under the brigg i’stead o’ crossing it to find a bit o’ safe-sure ground?” Widow Lambert began to arrange her wares afresh. “Ay, like yourself, Joe--just like yourself. A caravan and a horse are steady matters, but a man wi’ a naked pack on his back should go by the name o’ Reuben.” So then these two, vagrants both, fell into argument. Mother Lambert held the landed view of life, as befitted one who had a caravan and the right to fix her booth on the green for this one day. Pedlar Joe argued nimbly for the honour of his calling, and his views were those of the unlanded folk, coloured through and through by talk of freedom, of leisure in which to snare game--as being no man’s property in special--and of the joys attending one who, day in day out, had only his pack and himself to think of. The dispute was ended only when Joe caught sight of a country lass, with a pretty face and an air of foolish vanity about her.