tes from Riversley, and he's over Throckham farm,
and there I 'll drive ye to-night, and to-morrow, clean and tidy out
o' my wife's soap and water, straight to Riversley. Done, eh? My name's
Eckerthy. No matter where you comes from, here you are, eh, Master
Harry? And I see you last time in a donkey-basket, and here you come in
breeches and defy me to singlewicket, and you bet me too!'

He laughed for jollity. An extraordinary number of emotions had
possession of me: the most intelligible one being a restless vexation at
myself, as the principal person concerned, for not experiencing anything
like the farmer's happiness. I preferred a gipsy life to Riversley.
Gipsies were on the road, and that road led to my father. I endeavoured
to explain to Farmer Eckerthy that I was travelling in this direction
merely to have a short look at Riversley; but it was impossible; he
could not understand me. The more I tried, the more he pressed me
to finish my glass of ale, which had nothing to do with it. I drank,
nevertheless, and I suppose said many funny things in my anxiety that
the farmer should know what I meant; he laughed enough.

While he was fielding against the opposite eleven, the tramp came into
the booth, and we had a match of cunning.

'Schoolmaster's out after you, young gentleman,' said he, advising me to
hurry along the road if I sought to baffle pursuit.

I pretended alarm, and then said, 'Oh, you'll stand by me,' and treated
him to ale.

He assured me I left as many tracks behind me as if I went spilling
a box of lucifer-matches. He was always for my hastening on until I
ordered fresh ale for him. The girl and he grimaced at one another
in contempt. So we remained seeing the game out. By the time the game
ended, the tramp had drunk numbers of glasses of ale.

'A fine-flavoured fat goose,' he counted his gains since the
commencement of our acquaintance, 'bottles of ale and ginger-pop, two
half-crowns, more ale, and more to follow, let's hope. You only stick
to your friends, young gentleman, won't you, sir? It's a hard case for
a poor man like me if you don't. We ain't got such chances every morning
of our lives. Do you perceive, sir? I request you to inform me, do you
perceive, sir? I'm muddled a bit, sir, but a man must look after his
interests.'

I perceived he was so muddled as to be unable to conceal that his
interests were involved in my capture; but I was merry too. Farmer
Eckerthy dealt the tramp a scat