sly, "gloves! I tell you what,
brother, I always thought you were a better hand at the gloves than the
naked fist; and, to tell you the truth, besides taking satisfaction for
Mrs. Hearne's death, I wish to see what you can do with your morleys; so
now is your time, brother, and this is your place, grass and shade, no
ruts or holes; come on, brother, or I shall think you what I should not
like to call you."

CHAPTER LXXXII.

And when I heard Mr. Petulengro talk in this manner, which I had never
heard him do before, and which I can only account for by his being
fasting and ill-tempered, I had of course no other alternative than to
accept his challenge, so I put myself into a posture which I deemed the
best both for offence and defence, and the tuzzle commenced; and when it
had endured for about half an hour, Mr. Petulengro said: "Brother, there
is much blood on your face, you had better wipe it off"; and when I had
wiped it off, and again resumed my former attitude, Mr. Petulengro said:
"I think enough has been done, brother, in the affair of the old woman; I
have, moreover, tried what you are able to do, and find you as I thought,
less apt with the naked morleys than the stuffed gloves; nay, brother,
put your hands down; I'm satisfied; blood has been shed, which is all
that can be reasonably expected for an old woman, who carried so much
brimstone about her as Mrs. Hearne".

So the struggle ended, and we resumed our route, Mr. Petulengro sitting
sideways upon his horse as before, and I driving my little pony-cart; and
when we had proceeded about three miles, we came to a small public-house,
which bore the sign of the Silent Woman, where we stopped to refresh our
cattle and ourselves; and as we sat over our bread and ale, it came to
pass that Mr. Petulengro asked me various questions, and amongst others,
how I intended to dispose of myself; I told him that I did not know;
whereupon with considerable frankness, he invited me to his camp, and
told me that if I chose to settle down amongst them, and become a Rommany
chal, I should have his wife's sister, Ursula, who was still unmarried,
and occasionally talked of me.

I declined his offer, assigning as a reason the recent death of Mrs.
Hearne, of which I was the cause, although innocent. "A pretty life I
should lead with those two," said I, "when they came to know it." "Pooh,"
said Mr. Petulengro, "they will never know it. I shan't blab, and as for
Leonora, tha