The pride of art, which is certainly not inferior in its influence to
any other pride whatever, here so far operated on Wayland Smith, that,
notwithstanding the obvious danger of his being recognized, he could not
help winking to Tressilian, and smiling mysteriously, as if triumphing
in the undoubted evidence of his veterinary skill. In the meanwhile, the
discourse continued.
"E'en let it be so," said a grave man in black, the companion of Gaffer
Grimesby; "e'en let us perish under the evil God sends us, rather than
the devil be our doctor."
"Very true," said Dame Crane; "and I marvel at Jack Hostler that he
would peril his own soul to cure the bowels of a nag."
"Very true, mistress," said Jack Hostler, "but the nag was my master's;
and had it been yours, I think ye would ha' held me cheap enow an I had
feared the devil when the poor beast was in such a taking. For the rest,
let the clergy look to it. Every man to his craft, says the proverb--the
parson to the prayer-book, and the groom to his curry-comb.
"I vow," said Dame Crane, "I think Jack Hostler speaks like a good
Christian and a faithful servant, who will spare neither body nor soul
in his master's service. However, the devil has lifted him in time, for
a Constable of the Hundred came hither this morning to get old Gaffer
Pinniewinks, the trier of witches, to go with him to the Vale of
Whitehorse to comprehend Wayland Smith, and put him to his probation. I
helped Pinniewinks to sharpen his pincers and his poking-awl, and I saw
the warrant from Justice Blindas."
"Pooh--pooh--the devil would laugh both at Blindas and his warrant,
constable and witch-finder to boot," said old Dame Crank, the Papist
laundress; "Wayland Smith's flesh would mind Pinniewinks' awl no
more than a cambric ruff minds a hot piccadilloe-needle. But tell me,
gentlefolks, if the devil ever had such a hand among ye, as to snatch
away your smiths and your artists from under your nose, when the good
Abbots of Abingdon had their own? By Our Lady, no!--they had their
hallowed tapers; and their holy water, and their relics, and what not,
could send the foulest fiends a-packing. Go ask a heretic parson to do
the like. But ours were a comfortable people."
"Very true, Dame Crank," said the hostler; "so said Simpkins of
Simonburn when the curate kissed his wife,--'They are a comfortable
people,' said he."