'Well, I don't see, said Curdie, 'why the king should take care of the baker, when the baker's head won't take care of the baker's feet.'
'Who are you to make game of the king's baker?' cried the man in a rage.
But, instead of answering, Curdie went up to the bump on the street which had repeated itself on the baker's head, and turning the hammer end of his mattock, struck it such a blow that it flew wide in pieces.Blow after blow he struck until he had levelled it with the street.
But out flew the barber upon him in a rage.
'What do you break my window for, you rascal, with your pickaxe?'
'I am very sorry,' said Curdie.'It must have been a bit of stone that flew from my mattock.I couldn't help it, you know.'
'Couldn't help it! A fine story! What do you go breaking the rock for - the very rock upon which the city stands?'
'Look at your friend's forehead,' said Curdie.'See what a lump he has got on it with falling over that same stone.'
'What's that to my window?' cried the barber.'His forehead can mend itself; my poor window can't.'
'But he's the king's baker,' said Curdie, more and more surprised at the man's anger.
'What's that to me? This is a free city.Every man here takes care of himself, and the king takes care of us all.I'll have the price of my window out of you, or the exchequer shall pay for it.'
Something caught Curdie's eye.He stooped, picked up a piece of the stone he had just broken, and put it in his pocket.
'I suppose you are going to break another of my windows with that stone!' said the barber.
'Oh no,' said Curdie.'I didn't mean to break your window, and Icertainly won't break another.'
'Give me that stone,' said the barber.
Curdie gave it him, and the barber threw it over the city wall.
'I thought you wanted the stone,' said Curdie.
'No, you fool!' answered the barber.'What should I want with a stone?'
Curdie stooped and picked up another.
'Give me that stone,' said the barber.
'No,' answered Curdie.'You have just told me YOU don't want a stone, and I do.'
The barber took Curdie by the collar.
'Come, now! You pay me for that window.'
'How much?' asked Curdie.
The barber said, 'A crown.' But the baker, annoyed at the heartlessness of the barber, in thinking more of his broken window than the bump on his friend's forehead, interfered.
'No, no,' he said to Curdie; 'don't you pay any such sum.A little pane like that cost only a quarter.'
'Well, to be certain,' said Curdie, 'I'll give a half.' For he doubted the baker as well as the barber.'Perhaps one day, if he finds he has asked too much, he will bring me the difference.'
'Ha! ha!' laughed the barber.'A fool and his money are soon parted.'
But as he took the coin from Curdie's hand he grasped it in affected reconciliation and real satisfaction.In Curdie's, his was the cold smooth leathery palm of a monkey.He looked up, almost expecting to see him pop the money in his cheek; but he had not yet got so far as that, though he was well on the road to it:
then he would have no other pocket.
'I'm glad that stone is gone, anyhow,' said the baker.'It was the bane of my life.I had no idea how easy it was to remove it.Give me your pickaxes young miner, and I will show you how a baker can make the stones fly.'
He caught the tool out of Curdie's hand, and flew at one of the foundation stones of the gateway.But he jarred his arm terribly, scarcely chipped the stone, dropped the mattock with a cry of pain, and ran into his own shop.Curdie picked up his implement, and, looking after the baker, saw bread in the window, and followed him in.But the baker, ashamed of himself, and thinking he was coming to laugh at him, popped out of the back door, and when Curdie entered, the baker's wife came from the bakehouse to serve him.
Curdie requested to know the price of a certain good-sized loaf.
Now the baker's wife had been watching what had passed since first her husband ran out of the shop, and she liked the look of Curdie.
Also she was more honest than her husband.Casting a glance to the back door, she replied:
'That is not the best bread.I will sell you a loaf of what we bake for ourselves.' And when she had spoken she laid a finger on her lips.'Take care of yourself in this place, MY son,' she added.'They do not love strangers.I was once a stranger here, and I know what I say.' Then fancying she heard her husband, 'That is a strange animal you have,' she said, in a louder voice.
'Yes,' answered Curdie.'She is no beauty, but she is very good, and we love each other.Don't we, Lina?'
Lina looked up and whined.Curdie threw her the half of his loaf, which she ate, while her master and the baker's wife talked a little.Then the baker's wife gave them some water, and Curdie having paid for his loaf, he and Lina went up the street together.