ait upon me as a
maid-servant; I never liked him much, but from that hour less than ever.
Of the two, I believe Grey Moll to be the best, for she is at any rate
true and faithful to him, and I like truth and constancy--don't you,
young man?'

'Yes,' said I, 'they are very nice things. I feel very strangely.'

'How do you feel, young man?'

'Very much afraid.'

'Afraid, at what? At the Flaming Tinman? Don't be afraid of him. He
won't come back, and if he did, he shouldn't touch you in this state, I'd
fight him for you; but he won't come back, so you needn't be afraid of
him.'

'I'm not afraid of the Flaming Tinman.'

'What, then, are you afraid of?'

'The evil one.'

'The evil one!' said the girl, 'where is he?'

'Coming upon me.'

'Never heed,' said the girl, 'I'll stand by you.'

CHAPTER EIGHTY-SEVEN

A HUBBUB OF VOICES--NO OFFENCE--THE GUESTS

The kitchen of the public-house was a large one, and many people were
drinking in it; there was a confused hubbub of voices.

I sat down on a bench behind a deal table, of which there were three or
four in the kitchen; presently a bulky man, in a green coat of the
Newmarket cut, and without a hat, entered, and observing me, came up, and
in rather a gruff tone cried, 'Want anything, young fellow?'

'Bring me a jug of ale,' said I, 'if you are the master, as I suppose you
are, by that same coat of yours, and your having no hat on your head.'

'Don't be saucy, young fellow,' said the landlord, for such he was;
'don't be saucy, or--' Whatever he intended to say he left unsaid, for
fixing his eyes upon one of my hands, which I had placed by chance upon
the table, he became suddenly still.

This was my left hand, which was raw and swollen, from the blows dealt on
a certain hard skull in a recent combat. 'What do you mean by staring at
my hand so?' said I, withdrawing it from the table.

'No offence, young man, no offence,' said the landlord, in a quite
altered tone; 'but the sight of your hand--' then observing that our
conversation began to attract the notice of the guests in the kitchen, he
interrupted himself, saying in an undertone, 'But mum's the word for the
present, I will go and fetch the ale.'

In about a minute he returned, with a jug of ale foaming high. 'Here's
your health,' said he, blowing off the foam, and drinking; but perceiving
that I looked rather dissatisfied, he murmured, 'All's right, I glory in
you; but mum's the word.' T