"We'd best 'ave a bit of a jabber to keep us goin'," said Peke, then--"Jabberin' do pass time, as the wimin can prove t' ye; an' arter such a jumblegut lane as this, it'll seem less lonesome. We're off the main road to towns an' sich like--this is a bye, an' 'ere it stops. We'll 'ave to git over yon stile an' cross the fields--'taint an easy nor clean way, but it's the best goin'. We'll see the lights o' the 'Trusty Man' just over the brow o' the next hill." Helmsley drew a long breath, and sat down on a stone by the roadside. Peke surveyed him critically. "Poor old gaffer! Knocked all to pieces, aint ye! Not used to the road? Glory be good to me! I should think ye wornt! Short in yer wind an' weak on yer pins! I'd as soon see my old grandad trampin' it as you. Look 'ere! Will ye take a dram out o' this 'ere bottle?" He held up the bottle he spoke of,--it was black, and untemptingly dirty. Yet there was such a good-natured expression in the man's eyes, and so much honest solicitude written on his rough bearded face, that Helmsley felt it would be almost like insulting him to refuse his invitation. "Tell me what's in it first!" he said, smiling. "'Taint whisky," said Peke. "And 'taint brandy neither. _Nor_ rum. _Nor_ gin. Nor none o' them vile stuffs which brewers makes as arterwards goes to Parl'ment on the profits of 'avin' poisoned their consti_too_ants. 'Tis nowt but just yerb wine." "Yerb wine? Wine made of herbs?" "That's it! 'Erbs or yerbs--I aint pertikler which--I sez both. This,"--and he shook the bottle he held vigorously--"is genuine yerb wine--an' made as I makes it, what do the Wise One say of it? 'E sez:--'It doth strengthen the heart of a man mightily, and refresheth the brain; drunk fasting, it braceth up the sinews and maketh the old feel young; it is of rare virtue to expel all evil humours, and if princes should drink of it oft it would be but an ill service to the world, as they might never die!'" Peke recited these words slowly and laboriously; it was evident that he had learned them by heart, and that the effort of remembering them correctly was more or less painful to him. Helmsley laughed, and stretched out his hand. "Give it over here!" he said. "It's evidently just the stuff for me. How much shall I take at one go?" Peke uncorked the precious fluid with care, smelt it, and nodded appreciatively. "Swill it all if ye like," he remarked graciously. "'Twont hurt ye, an' there's more where that came from. It's cheap enuff, too--nature don't keep it back from no man. On'y there aint a many got sense enuff to thank the Lord when it's offered." As he thus talked, Helmsley took the bottle from him and tasted its contents. The "yerb wine" was delicious. More grateful to his palate than Chambertin or Clos Vougeot, it warmed and invigorated him, and he took a long draught, Matthew Peke watching him drink it with great satisfaction.