Free Brother Dusty-Feet by Rosemary Sutcliff Page A

butts, and Argos had tried to fight a wall-eyed drover’s dog whose face he did not like, they found themselves in the part of the Fair where books were sold (for Stourbridge Fair was a great place for books).
    The others would have turned back to find something more interesting, but to Hugh there
was
nothing more interesting in the whole fairground. It was such a long time since he had seen even one book, that he was tempted to loiter and look at them longingly, while the Players sighed – at least, Nicky and Jasper sighed – and waited for him patiently, as he always waited for Argos when Argos could not make up his mind about the best place to bury a bone. There were a few huge, beautiful books bound in blue and purple and vermilion; little clumsy books with blodgy woodcut pictures in them; thick dark books full of queer knowledge about stars and herbs, and many more. And Hugh wanted all of them, or failing that, just one – one little plain book to be his very own; but even the smallest and plainest cost more than he would possibly be able to afford, even if he saved hard all the while the Fair lasted. So at last he sighed and wandered off again with the others.
    ‘It would be nice to be rich,’ he said, ‘rich enough to buy books, I mean.’
    ‘What a queer cove you are, Dusty!’ said Nicky. ‘D’you really mean to say that if you had the money, you’d spend it on books?’
    ‘Yes I
would
!’ said Hugh defensively.
    ‘Every man to his own taste,’ sighed Jasper, in an even more mournful voice than usual. ‘If ’twas me, I’d buy a new pair o’ shoes, with soles to ’em.’
    Everybody laughed, even Hugh, and Jonathan said, ‘I wonder which of you would have the more joy of your purchases.’
    Not long after they came to an open space with a man standing on a tub in the middle of it, and an interested and admiring crowd all round. He was a large, merry-looking man, with a round red nose and little twinkling blue eyes, and a very tall hat on the back of his head; and he was holding aloft a little box in one hand, and waving the other in wide, graceful flourishes while he talked at the top of a very trumpety voice.
    ‘Here’s Zackary Hawkins,’ said Jonathan. ‘There’s not a quack doctor on the road to touch Zackary; he’s a joy to listen to.’
    So they joined the crowd and listened for a little while.
    ‘I am not like those herbalists yonder, who will sell you bread-pills for your hard-earned money,’ the Quack Doctor was saying. ‘No. I have here the cure for all ills, which I discovered myself, at – ha! hum! – great personal risk, not to say inconvenience, and the secret of which is known only to me of all the teeming millions on this earth. Have you the backache? Have you no appetite? Do your arms and your legs ache, and do you feel all shiversome when you wake in the mornings? Do you suffer from colic,colds in the head or bunions? Have you spots before your eyes or a singing in your ears? Ha! Hum! – Then my Herbal Compound is the medicine for you! This box, my friends, is worth one hundred crowns! A hundred crowns is what my good friend the Archduke of Tuscany paid me for a box no larger; also the Califf Haroun El Mohamid, of the noble city of Baghdad, which is a very noble city indeed. But I am not one who loves money! No! The welfare of my fellow men means more to me than my own gain, and I have determined to sell my wonderful Elixir to you for only one crown a box! – No, for half a crown—’
    Jonathan flung up one arm and waved, and the Quack Doctor saw him and waved back, but without stopping talking for an instant. ‘No, for fourpence. The paltry sum of fourpence, my friends! Step up here, my friends, and . . .’
    But the Players had slipped away, and were heading for a performing pony they could see in the distance.
    ‘Does the stuff he is selling really cure all these things?’ asked Hugh, looking back over his shoulder at the Quack Doctor, who was still shouting