Fresh Arrivals — Pitching the Tent — Certificated Wife — High-Flying Notions

On the following morning, as I was about to leave my tent, I heard the voice of Belle¹ at the door, exclaiming, ‘Sleepest thou, or wakest thou?’ ‘I was never more awake in my life,’ said I, going out. ‘What is the matter?’ ‘He of the horse-shoe,’ 42 said she, ‘Jasper, 43 of whom I have heard you talk, is above there on the field with all his people; I went about a quarter of an hour ago to fill the kettle at the spring, and saw them arriving.’ ‘It is well,’ said I; ‘have you any objection to asking him and his wife to breakfast?’ ‘You can do as you please,’ said she; ‘I have cups enough, and have no objection to their company.’ ‘We are the first occupiers of the ground,’ said I, ‘and being so, should consider ourselves in the light of hosts, and do our best to practise the duties of hospitality.’ ‘How fond you are of using that word,’ said Belle, ‘if you wish to invite the man and his wife, do so, without more ado; remember, however, that I have not cups enough, nor, indeed, tea enough, for the whole company.’ Thereupon hurrying up the ascent², I presently found myself outside the dingle. It was, as usual, a brilliant morning, the dewy blades of the rye-grass which covered the plain sparkled brightly in the beams of the sun, which had probably been about two hours above the horizon. A rather numerous body of my ancient friends and allies occupied the ground in the vicinity of the mouth of the dingle. About five yards on the right I perceived Mr. Petulengro busily employed in erecting³ his tent; he held in his hand an iron bar, sharp at the bottom, with a kind of arm projecting from the top for the purpose of supporting a kettle or cauldron over the fire, and which is called in the Romanian language, ‘Kekauviskoe saster.’ 44 With the sharp end of this Mr. Petulengro was making holes in the earth at about twenty inches distance from each other, into which he inserted certain long rods, with a considerable bend towards the top, which constituted no less than the timbers of the tent, and the supporters of the canvas. 45 Mrs. Petulengro and a female with a crutch⁴ in her hand, whom I recognised as Mrs. Chikno, sat near him on the ground, whilst two or three children, from six to ten years old, who composed the young family of Mr. and Mrs. Petulengro were playing about.

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