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+The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Astonishing History of Troy Town, by Sir
+Arthur Thomas Quiller-Couch
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+
+
+
+Title: The Astonishing History of Troy Town
+
+
+Author: Sir Arthur Thomas Quiller-Couch
+
+
+
+Release Date: December 9, 2005  [eBook #17263]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ASTONISHING HISTORY OF TROY
+TOWN***
+
+
+E-text prepared by Lionel Sear
+
+
+
+
+THE ASTONISHING HISTORY OF TROY TOWN.
+
+by
+
+Arthur Thomas Quiller-Couch.
+
+1914
+
+This etext prepared from a reprint of a version published in 1914.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: "This regiment of visitors." (Chapter VII)]
+
+
+
+
+     TO CHARLES CANNAN.
+
+     My Dear Cannan,
+     It is told of a distinguished pedagogue that one day a heated
+     stranger burst into his study, and, wringing him by the hand,
+     cried, "Heaven bless and reward you, sir!  Heaven preserve you
+     long to educate old England's boyhood!  I have walked many a
+     weary, weary mile to see your face again," he continued,
+     flourishing a scrap of paper, "and assure you that but for your
+     discipline, obeyed by me as a boy and remembered as a man, I
+     should never--no, never--have won the Ticket-of-Leave which you
+     behold!"
+
+     In something of the same spirit I bring you this small volume.
+     The child of encouragement is given to staggering its parent;
+     and I make no doubt that as you turn the following pages, you
+     will more than once exclaim, with the old lady in the ballad--
+
+         "O, deary me! this is none of I!"
+
+     Nevertheless, it would be strange indeed if this story bore no
+     marks of you; for a hundred kindly instances have taught me to
+     come with sure reliance for your reproof and praise.  Few, I
+     imagine, have the good fortune of a critic so friendly and
+     inexorable; and if the critic has been unsparing, he has been
+     used unsparingly.
+                           Wargrave, Henley-on-Thames,
+                                 June 7, 1888
+
+
+CONTENTS.
+
+Chapter.
+
+I.     IN WHICH THE READER IS MADE ACQUAINTED WITH A STATE OF
+       INNOCENCE; AND THE MEANING OF THE WORD "CUMEELFO"
+
+II.    HOW AN ADMIRAL TOOK ONE GENTLEMAN FOR ANOTHER, AND WAS TOLD
+       THE DAY OF THE MONTH.
+
+III.   OF A BLUE-JERSEYED MAN THAT WOULD HOIST NO MORE BRICKS; AND A
+       NIGHTCAP THAT HAD NO BUSINESS TO BE WHERE IT WAS.
+
+IV.    OF CERTAIN LEPERS; AND TWO BROTHERS WHO, BEING MUCH ALIKE,
+       LOVED THEIR SISTER AND RECOMMENDED THE USE OF GLOBES.
+
+V.     HOW AN ABSENT-MINDED MAN, THAT HATED WOMEN, TOOK A HOUSE BY
+       THE WATERSIDE AND LIVED THEREIN WITH ONE SERVANT.
+
+VI.    HOW CERTAIN TROJANS CLIMBED A WALL OUT OF CURIOSITY; AND OF A
+       CHARWOMAN THAT COULD GIVE NO INFORMATION.
+
+VII.   OF A LADY THAT HAD A MUSICAL VOICE, BUT USED IT TO DECEIVE.
+
+VIII.  HOW A CREW, THAT WOULD SAIL ON A WASHING-DAY, WAS SHIPWRECKED:
+       WITH AN ADVERTISEMENT AGAINST WOMEN.
+
+IX.    OF A TOWN THAT WOULD LAUGH AT THE GREAT: AND HOW A DULL
+       COMPANY WAS CURED BY AN IRISH SONG.
+
+X.     OF ONE EXCURSION AND MANY ALARUMS.
+
+XI.    OF A WESLEYAN MINISTER THAT WOULD IMPROVE UPON NATURE, AND
+       THEREBY TRAINED A ROOK TO GOOD PRINCIPLES.
+
+XII.   OF DETERIORATION; AND A WHEELBARROW THAT CONTAINED UNEXPECTED
+       THINGS.
+
+XIII.  THE SIGNIFICANCE OF POMEROY'S CAT; AND HOW THE MEN AND WOMEN
+       OF TROY ENSUED AFTER PLEASURE IN BOATS.
+
+XIV.   OF A LADY OF SENSIBILITY THAT, BEING AWKWARDLY PLACED, MIGHT
+       EASILY HAVE SET MATTERS RIGHT, BUT DID NOT; WITH MUCH BESIDE.
+
+XV.    HOW A LADY AND A YOUTH, BEING SEPARATED FROM THEIR COMPANY,
+       VISITED A SHIP THAT HELD NOTHING BUT WATER.
+
+XVI.   OF STRATAGEMS AND SPOILS; AND THAT THE NOMINALISTS ERR WHO
+       HOLD A THING TO BE WHAT IT IS CALLED.
+
+XVII.  HOW ONE THAT WAS DISSATISFIED WITH HIS PAST SAW A VISION, BUT
+       DOUBTED.
+
+XVIII. OF A YOUNG MAN THAT WOULD START UPON A DARK ADVENTURE, BUT
+       HAD TWO MINDS UPON IT.
+
+XIX.   THAT A SILVER BULLET HAS VIRTUE; WITH A WARNING TO COMMODORES.
+
+XX.    HOW CERTAIN CHARACTERS FOUND THEMSELVES, AT DEAD OF NIGHT, UPON
+       THE FIVE LANES ROAD.
+
+XXI.   THAT A VERY LITTLE TEA MAY SUFFICE TO ELEVATE A MAN.
+
+XXII.  IN WHICH SEVERAL ATTEMPTS ARE MADE TO PUT A PERIOD TO THIS
+       HISTORY.
+
+XXIII. HOW ONE LOVER TOOK LEAVE OF HIS WITS, AND TWO CAME TO THEIR
+       SENSES.
+
+XXIV.  OF THE BEST HELLEBORE; AND AN EXPERIMENT IN THE ENTERTAINMENT
+       OF TWINS.
+
+XXV.   WHICH ENDS THIS STORY OF TROY.
+
+
+
+[Illustration: The Astonishing History of Troy Town]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+
+IN WHICH THE READER IS MADE ACQUAINTED WITH A STATE OF INNOCENCE; AND
+THE MEANING OF THE WORD "CUMEELFO".
+
+"Any news to-night?" asked Admiral Buzza, leading a trump.
+
+"Hush, my love," interposed his wife timidly, with a glance at the
+Vicar.  She liked to sit at her husband's left, and laid her small
+cards before him as so many tributes to his greatness.
+
+"I will not hush, Emily.  I repeat, is there any news to-night?"
+
+Miss Limpenny, his hostess and vis-a-vis, finding the Admiral's eye
+fierce upon her, coughed modestly and announced that twins had just
+arrived to the postmistress.  Her manner, as she said this, implied
+that, for aught she knew, they had come with the letters.
+
+The Vicar took the trick and gathered it up in silence.  He was a
+portly, antique gentleman, with a fine taste for scandal in its
+proper place, but disliked conversation during a rubber.
+
+"Twins, eh?" growled the Admiral.  "Just what I expected.  She always
+was a wasteful woman."
+
+"My love!" expostulated his wife.  Miss Limpenny blushed.
+
+"They'll come to the workhouse," he went on, "and serve him right for
+making such a marriage."
+
+"I have heard that his heart is in the right place," pleaded Miss
+Limpenny, "but he used--"
+
+"Eh, ma'am?"
+
+"It's of no consequence," said Miss Limpenny, with becoming
+bashfulness.  "It's only that he always used, in sorting his cards,
+to sit upon his trumps--that always seemed to me--"
+
+"Just so," replied the Admiral, "and now it's twins.  Bless the man!
+what next?"
+
+It was in the golden age, before Troy became demoralised, as you
+shall hear.  At present you are to picture the drawing-room of the
+Misses Limpenny arranged for an "evening": the green rep curtains
+drawn, the "Book of Beauty" disposed upon the centre table, the
+ballad music on the piano, and the Admiral's double-bass in the
+corner.  Six wax candles were beaming graciously on cards, tea-cakes
+and ratafias; on the pictures of "The First Drive," and "The Orphan's
+Dream," the photographic views of Troy from the harbour, the opposite
+hill, and one or two other points, and finally the noted oil-painting
+of Miss Limpenny's papa as he appeared shortly after preaching an
+assize sermon.  Above all, the tea-service was there--the famous set
+in real silver presented to the late Reverend Limpenny by his flock,
+and Miss Priscilla--she at the card-table--wore her best brooch with
+a lock of his hair arranged therein as a _fleur-de-lys_.
+
+I wish I could convey to you some of the innocent mirth of those
+"evenings" in Troy--those _noctes Limpennianae_ when the ladies
+brought their cap-boxes (though the Buzzas and Limpennys were but
+semi-detached neighbours), and the Admiral and his wife insisted on
+playing against each other, so that the threepenny points never
+affected their weekly accounts.  Those were happy days when the young
+men were not above singing the "Death of Nelson," or joining in a
+glee, and arming the young ladies home afterwards.  In those days
+"Hocken's Slip" had not yet become the "Victoria Quay," and we talked
+of the "Rope Walk" where we now say "Marine Parade."  Alas! our
+tastes have altered with Troy.
+
+Yet we were vastly genteel.  We even had our shibboleth, a verdict to
+be passed before anything could hope for toleration in Troy.
+The word to be pronounced was "CUMEELFO," and all that was not
+_Cumeelfo_ was Anathema.
+
+So often did I hear this word from Miss Limpenny's lips that I grew
+in time to clothe it with an awful meaning.  It meant to me, as
+nearly as I can explain, "All Things Sanctioned by the Principles of
+the Great Exhibition of 1851," and included as time went on--
+
+
+     Crochet Antimacassars.
+     Art in the style of the "Greek Slave."
+    "Elegant Extracts,"  and the British Poets as edited by
+     Gilfillan.
+     Corkscrew Curls and Prunella Boots.
+     Album Verses.
+     Quadrille-dancing, and the _Deux-temps_.
+     Popular Science.
+     Proposals on the bended Knee.
+     Conjuring and Variety Entertainments.
+     The Sentimental Ballad.
+     The Proprieties, etc., etc., etc.
+
+
+The very spirit of this word breathed over the Limpenny drawing-room
+to-night, and Miss Priscilla's lips seemed to murmur it as she gazed
+across to where her sister Lavinia was engaged in a round game with
+the young people.  These were Admiral Buzza's three daughters, Sophy,
+Jane, and Calypso--the last named after her father's old ship--and
+young Mr. Moggridge, the amusing collector of customs.  They were
+playing with ratafias for counters (ratafias were _cumeelfo_), and
+peals of guileless laughter from time to time broke in upon the grave
+silence of the whist-table.
+
+For always, on such occasions, in the glow of Miss Limpenny's wax
+candles, Youth and Age held opposite camps, with the centre table as
+debatable ground; nor, until the rubber was finished, and the round
+game had ended in a seemly scramble for ratafias, would the two
+recognise each other's presence, save now and then by a "Hush, if you
+please, young people," from the elder sister, followed by a
+whispered, "What spirits your dear girls enjoy!" for Mrs. Buzza's
+ear.
+
+But at length the signal would be given by Miss Priscilla.
+
+"Come, a little music perhaps might leave a pleasant taste.
+What do you say, Vicar?"
+
+Upon which the Vicar would regularly murmur--
+
+"Say, rather, would gild refined gold, Miss Limpenny."
+
+And the Admiral as invariably broke in with--
+
+"Come, Sophy! remember the proverb about little birds that can sing
+and won't sing."
+
+This prelude having been duly recited, the Misses Buzza would
+together trip to the piano, on which the two younger girls in duet
+were used to accompany Sophia's artless ballads.  The performance
+gained a character of its own from a habit to which Calypso clung, of
+counting the time in an audible aside: as thus--
+
+     _Sophia_  (singing): "Oh, breathe but a whispered command."
+     _Calypso: "One, two, three, four_."
+     _Sophia_: "I'll lay down my life for thee!"
+     _Calypso: "One, two, three, four_."
+
+--the effect of which upon strangers has been known to be paralysing,
+though we who were _cumeelfo_ pretended not to notice it.  But Sophy
+could also accompany her own songs, such as, "Will you love me then
+as now?" and "I'd rather be a daisy," with much feeling.  She was
+clever, too, with the water-colour brush, and to her we owe that
+picture of "_ H.M.S. Calypso_ in a Storm," which hangs to this day
+over the Admiral's mantelpiece.
+
+I could dwell on this evening for ever; not that the company was so
+large as usual, but because it was the last night of our simplicity.
+With the next morning we passed out of our golden age, and in the
+foolishness of our hearts welcomed the change.
+
+It was announced to us in this manner--
+
+The duets had been beaten out of Miss Limpenny's piano--an early
+Collard, with a top like a cupboard, fluted in pink silk and
+wearing a rosette in front; the performers, on retiring, had
+curtseyed in acknowledgment of the Vicar's customary remark about the
+"Three Graces "; the Admiral had wrung from his double-bass the
+sounds we had learnt to identify with elfin merriment (though
+suggestive, rather, of seasick mutineers under hatches), and our
+literary collector, Mr. Moggridge, was standing up to recite a trifle
+of his own--"flung off"--as he explained, "not pruned or polished."
+
+The hush in the drawing-room was almost painful--for in those days we
+all admired Mr. Moggridge--as the poet tossed back a stray lock from
+his forehead, flung an arm suddenly out at right angles to his
+person, and began sepulchrally--
+
+    "Maiden"--
+
+(Here he looked very hard at Miss Lavinia Limpenny.)
+
+    "Maiden, what dost thou in the chill churchyard
+        Beside yon grassy mound?
+     The night hath fallen, the rain is raining hard,
+        Damp is the ground."
+
+Mrs. Buzza shivered, and began to weep quietly.
+
+    "Maiden, why claspest thou that cold, cold stone
+        Against thy straining breast?
+     Tell me, what dost thou at this hour alone?
+        (_Persuasively_) The lambs have gone to rest.
+     The maiden lifted up her tearful gaze,
+        And thus she made reply:
+    'My mother, sir, is--'"
+
+But the secret of her conduct remains with Mr. Moggridge, for at this
+moment the door opened, and the excited head of Sam Buzza, the
+Admiral's only son, was thrust into the room.
+
+
+[Illustration: "Maiden, what dost thou in the chill churchyard--"]
+
+
+"I say, have you heard the news? 'The Bower' is let."
+
+"What!"
+
+All eyes were fixed on the newcomer.  The Vicar woke up.  Even the
+poet, with his arm still at right angles and the verse arrested on
+his lips, turned to stare incredulously.
+
+"It's a fact; I heard it down at the _Man-o'-War_ Club meeting, you
+know," he explained.  "Goodwyn-Sandys is his name, the Honourable
+Goodwyn-Sandys, brother to Lord Sinkport--and what's more, he is
+coming by the mid-day train to-morrow."
+
+The poet's arm dropped like a railway signal.  There was a long
+pause, and then the voices broke out all together--
+
+"Only fancy!"
+
+"There now!"
+
+"'The Bower' let at last!"
+
+"An Honourable, too!"
+
+"What is he like?"
+
+"Are you sure?"
+
+"Well, I never did!"
+
+"Miss Limpenny," gasped the Admiral, at length, "where is your
+Burke?"
+
+It lay between the "Cathedrals of England" and "Gems of Modern Art";
+under the stereoscope.  Miss Lavinia produced it.
+
+"Let me see," said the Admiral, turning the pages.  "Sinkport--
+Sinkport--here we are--George St. Leonards Goodwyn-Sandys, fourth
+baron--H'm, h'm, here it is--only brother, Frederic Augustus Hythe
+Goodwyn-Sandys, b. 1842--married--"
+
+"Married!"
+
+"1876--Geraldine, eighth daughter of Sheil O'Halloran of Kilmacuddy
+Court, County Kerry--blank space for issue--arms: gules, a bar
+sinist--Ahem!  Well, upon my word!"
+
+"I'm sure," sighed Mrs. Buzza, after the excitement had cooled a
+little--"I'm sure I only hope they will settle down to our humble
+ways."
+
+"Emily," snapped her husband, "you speak like a fool.  Pooh!  Let me
+tell you, ma'am, that our ways in Troy are not humble!"
+
+Outside, in Miss Limpenny's back garden, the laurestinus bushes
+sighed as they caught those ominous words.  So might Eden have
+sighed, aware of its serpent.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+
+HOW AN ADMIRAL TOOK ONE GENTLEMAN FOR ANOTHER, AND WAS TOLD THE DAY
+OF THE MONTH.
+
+Next morning, almost before the sun was up, all Troy was in
+possession of the news; and in Troy all that is personal has a public
+interest.  It is this local spirit that marks off the Trojan from all
+other minds.
+
+In consequence long before ten o'clock struck, it was clear that
+some popular movement was afoot; and by half-past eleven the road
+to the railway station was crowded with Trojans of all sorts and
+conditions--boatmen, pilots, fishermen, sailors out of employ, the
+local photographer, men from the ship-building yards, makers of
+ship's biscuit, of ropes, of sails, chandlers, block and pump
+manufacturers, loafers--representatives, in short, of all the staple
+industries: women with baskets--women with babies, women with both,
+even a few farmers in light gigs with their wives, or in carts with
+their families, a sprinkling from Penpoodle, across the harbour--high
+and low, Church and Dissent, with children by the hundred.  Some even
+proposed to ring the church bells and fire the cannon at the
+harbour's mouth; but the ringers and artillerymen preferred to come
+and see the sight.  As it was, the "George" floated proudly from the
+church tower, and the Fife and Drum Temperance Band stood ready at
+the corner of East Street.  All Troy, in fact, was on tip-toe.
+
+Meanwhile, as few in the crowd possessed Burke or Debrett, the
+information that passed from mouth to mouth was diverse and peculiar,
+but, as was remarked by a laundress in the crowd to a friend: "He may
+be the Pope o' Rome, my dear, an' he may be the Dook o' Wellington,
+an' not a soul here wud know t'other from which no mor'n if he was
+Adam.  All I says is--the Lord send he's a professin' Christian, an'
+has his linen washed reg'lar.  My!  What a crush!  I only wish my boy
+Jan was here to see; but he's stayin' at home, my dear, cos his
+father means to kill the pig to-day, an' the dear child do so love to
+hear'n screech."
+
+The Admiral, who happened by the merest chance to be sauntering along
+the Station Road this morning, in his best blue frock-coat with a
+flower in the buttonhole, corrected some of the rumours, but without
+much success.  Finding the throng so thick, he held a long debate
+between curiosity and dignity.  The latter won, and he returned to
+No. 2, Alma Villas, in a flutter, some ten minutes before the train
+was due.
+
+By noon the crowd was growing impatient.  But hardly had the church
+clock chimed the hour when the shriek of a whistle was heard from up
+the valley.  Amid wild excitement a puff of white smoke appeared,
+then another, and finally the mid-day train steamed serenely into the
+station.
+
+As it drew up, a mild spectacled face appeared at the window of a
+first-class carriage, and asked--
+
+"Is this Troy?"
+
+"Yessir--terminus.  Any luggage, sir?"
+
+The mild face got out.  It belonged to the only stranger in the
+train.
+
+"There is only a black portmanteau," said he.  "Ah, that is it.
+I shall want it put in the cloakroom for an hour or two while I go
+into the town."
+
+The stranger gave up his ticket--a single ticket--and stepped outside
+the station.  He was a mild, thin man, slightly above middle height,
+with vacant eyes and a hesitating manner.  He wore a black suit, a
+rather rusty top-hat, and carried a silk umbrella.
+
+"Here he comes!"
+
+"Look, that's him!"
+
+"Give 'un a cheer, boys."
+
+"Hip, hip, hoor-roar!"
+
+The sound burst upon the clear sky in a deafening peal.  The stranger
+paused and looked confused.
+
+"Dear me!" he murmured to himself, "the population here seems to be
+excited about something--and, bless my soul, what a lot of it there
+is!"
+
+He might well say so.  Along the road, arms, sticks, baskets, and
+handkerchiefs were frantically waving; men shouting and children
+hurrahing with might and main.  Windows were flung up; heads
+protruded; flags waved in frenzied welcome.  The tumult was
+stupendous.  There was not a man, woman, or child in Troy but felt
+the demonstration must be hearty, and determined to make it a
+success.
+
+"What _can_ have caused this riot?"
+
+The stranger paused with a half-timid air, but after a while resumed
+his walk.  The shouts broke out again, and louder than ever.
+
+"Welcome, welcome to Troy! Hooroar! One more, lads! Hooroar!" and all
+the handkerchiefs waved anew.
+
+"Bless my soul, what _is_ the matter?"
+
+Then suddenly he became aware that all this frantic display was meant
+for _him_.  How he first learnt it he could never afterwards explain,
+but the shock of it brought a deathly faintness.
+
+"There is some horrible mistake," he murmured hoarsely, and turned to
+run.
+
+He was too late.  The crowd had closed around him, and swept him on,
+cheering, yelling, vociferating towards the town.  He feebly put up a
+hand for silence--
+
+"My friends," he shouted, "you are--"
+
+"Yes, yes, we know.  Welcome!  Welcome!  Hip-hip-hoo-roar!"
+
+"My friends, I assure you--"
+
+_Boom!  Boom!  Tring-a-ring--boom!_
+
+It was that accursed Fife and Drum Temperance Band.  In a moment
+five-and-twenty fifers were blowing "See, the conquering hero comes,"
+with all their breath, and marching to the beat of a deafening drum.
+Behind them came a serried crowd with the stranger in its midst, and
+a straggling train of farmers' gigs and screaming urchins closed the
+procession.
+
+Miss Limpenny, at the first-storey window of No. 1 Alma Villas, heard
+the yet distant din.  With trembling fingers she hung out of window a
+loyal pocket-handkerchief (worn by her mother at the Jubilee of King
+George III), shut down the sash upon it, and discreetly retired again
+behind her white blinds to watch.
+
+The cheering grew louder, and Miss Limpenny's heart beat faster.
+"I hope," she thought to herself, "I hope that their high connections
+will not have given them a distaste for our hearty ways.  Well as I
+know Troy, I think I might be frightened at this display of public
+feeling."
+
+She peeped out over the white blinds.  Next door, the Admiral was
+fuming nervously up and down his gravel walk.  He was debating the
+propriety of his costume.  Even yet there was time to run up-stairs
+and don his cocked hat and gold-laced coat before the procession
+arrived.  Between the claims of his civil and official positions the
+poor man was in a ferment.
+
+"As a man of the world," Miss Limpenny soliloquised, "the Honourable
+Frederic Goodwyn-Sandys cannot fail to appreciate our sterling
+Admiral.  Dear, dear, here they come!  I do trust dearest Lavinia has
+not put herself in too conspicuous a position at the parlour window.
+What a lot of people, to be sure!"
+
+The crowd had gathered volume during its passage through the town,
+and the "Conquering Hero" was more distractingly shrill than ever.
+The goal was almost reached, for "The Bower" stood next door to Alma
+Villas, and was divided from them only by a road which led down to
+the water's edge and the Penpoodle ferry boat.
+
+"Why, everybody is here," said Miss Limpenny, "except, of course, the
+Vicar.  There's Pharaoh Geddye waving a flag, and blind Sam Hockin
+and Mrs. Hockin with him, I declare, and Bathsheba Merryfield, and
+Jim the dustman, and Seth Udy in the band--he must have taken the
+pledge lately--and Walter Sibley and a score I don't even know by
+sight.  And, bless my heart! that's old Cobbledick, wooden leg and
+all!  I thought he was bed-ridden for life.  But I don't see the
+arrivals yet.  I wonder who that poor man is, in the crowd--it can't
+be--and yet--Why, whatever is the Admiral doing?"
+
+For Admiral Buzza had opened his front gate and deliberately stepped
+out into the road.
+
+The stranger, dishevelled, haggard and bewildered, had long since
+abandoned all attempts at explanation and fallen into a desperate
+apathy, when all at once a dozen voices in front cried "Hush!"
+The band broke off suddenly, and the cheering died away.
+
+"Make way for the Admiral!"  "Out of the road, there!"
+"The Admiral's going to speak!"  "Silence for the Admiral!"
+
+The stranger looked up and saw through the opening in the crowd a
+little man advancing, hat in hand.  He had a red face, and the
+importance of his mission had lent it even a deeper tint than it
+usually wore: his bald head was fringed with stiff grey hair: he was
+clothed in "pepper-and-salt" trousers, a blue frock-coat and
+waistcoat, and carried a large bunch of primroses in his buttonhole.
+His step was full of dignity and his voice of grave politeness, as he
+began, with a bow--
+
+"Though not the accredited spokesman of my fellow-citizens here, I am
+sure I shall not be deemed presumptuous" (cries of "No") "if I
+venture to give expression to some of the kindly sentiments which I
+am sure we one and all entertain upon this auspicious occasion."
+(Loud cheers.) "For upwards of twenty years I have now resided in
+this beautiful and prosperous--I think I may use these words"
+("Hear, hear!") "this beautiful and prosperous little town, and it is
+therefore with the more sincere pleasure" (here the Admiral laid his
+hand upon his waistcoat) "that I bid you welcome to Troy."
+(Frantic cheering.)  "We had hoped--I say we had hoped--to have seen
+your good lady also among us to-day: but doubtless when 'The Bower'
+is prepared--the--ahem! the bird will fly thither."
+
+Vociferous applause followed this impromptu trope, and for some
+moments the Admiral's voice was completely drowned.
+
+"I hope and trust," he went on, as soon as silence was restored,
+"that she enjoys good health."
+
+The stranger looked more perplexed than ever.
+
+"But be that as it may--be that, I say, as it may, my pleasant duty
+is now discharged.  In the name of my fellow-Trojans and in my own
+name I bid you a hearty welcome to 'The Bower.'"  (Loud and
+continuous cheering, during which the Admiral handed his card with a
+flourish, and mopped his brow.)
+
+"I can assure you," replied the stranger after a pause, "that I am
+deeply sensible of your kindness--"  (The cheering was renewed.)
+"While conscious," he went on, "that I have done nothing to deserve
+it.  In point of fact, I think you must all be labouring under some
+ridiculous delusion."
+
+"What do you mean, sir?" gasped the Admiral.  "Do you mean to say you
+are not the new tenant of this delightful residence?"  Then the
+speaker waved his hand in the direction of "The Bower."
+
+"Certainly I am not."
+
+"Then, damme, sir! who are you?" cried the Admiral, whose temper was,
+as we know, short.
+
+"My name is Fogo," replied the stranger.  "Here is my card--Philip
+Fogo--at your service."
+
+Even Miss Limpenny, with the first-floor window of No. 1 timidly
+lifted to admit the Admiral's eloquence; even the three Misses Buzza,
+arranged in a row behind the parlour blinds of No. 2, and gazing with
+fond pride upon their papa; even Mrs. Buzza, nervously clasping her
+hands on the upper storey;--could not but perceive that something
+dreadful was happening.  The Admiral's face turned from crimson to
+purple; he positively choked.
+
+The situation needed a solution.  A wag among the crowd hit upon it.
+
+"Tell th' Admiral, some of 'ee: what day es et?"
+
+"Fust of April!" cried a voice, then another; and then--
+
+Then the throng broke into roar upon roar of inextinguishable
+laughter.  The whole deluded town turned and cast its April folly, as
+a garment, upon the Admiral's shoulders.  It was in vain that he
+stamped and raved and swore.  They only held their sides and laughed
+the louder.
+
+The credit of Trojan humour was saved.  With a final oath the Admiral
+dashed through his front gate and into the house.  The _volgus
+infidum_ formed in procession again, and marched back with shouts of
+merriment; the _popularis aura_ of the five-and-twenty fifers resumed
+the "Conquering Hero," and Mr. Fogo was left standing alone in the
+middle of the road.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+
+OF A BLUE-JERSEYED MAN THAT WOULD HOIST NO MORE BRICKS; AND A
+NIGHTCAP THAT HAD NO BUSINESS TO BE WHERE IT WAS.
+
+No one acquainted with the character of that extraordinary town will
+be surprised when I say that, within an hour after the occurrences
+related in the last chapter, Troy had resumed its workday quiet.
+By two o'clock nothing was to be heard but the tick-tack of mallets
+in the ship-building yards, the puffing of the steam-tug, the rattle
+of hawsers among the vessels out in the harbour, and the melodious
+"Woo-hoo!" of a crew at capstan or windlass.  Troy in carnival and
+Troy sober are as opposite, you must know, as the poles.  Fun is all
+very well, but business is business, and Troy is a trading port with
+a character to keep up: for who has not heard the bye-word--
+"Working like a Trojan"?
+
+At two o'clock on this same day a little schooner lay alongside the
+town quay, busily discharging bricks.  That is to say, a sunburnt
+man, blue-jerseyed and red with brick-dust, leisurely turned a
+windlass which let down an empty bucket and brought it up full.
+Another blue-jerseyed man, also sunburnt and red with brick-dust,
+then pulled it on shore, emptied and returned it; and the operation
+was repeated.  A choleric little man, of about fifty, presumably the
+proprietor of the bricks, stood on the edge of the quay, and swore
+alternately at the man with the windlass and the man ashore.
+
+"Look 'ere," said the man at the windlass, after a bit.
+"Stop cussin'.  This ain't a hurdy-gurdy, and if you expec's music
+you'll have to toss us a copper."
+
+The owner of the bricks swore worse than ever.
+
+Round went the windlass as leisurely as might be and another
+bucketful was hoisted ashore.  The man on deck spat on his hands, and
+broke into cheerful song:--
+
+    "Was you iver to Que-bec,
+        Bonnie laddie, Hieland laddie
+     Was you iver to Que-bec,
+     Rousing timber over the deck?
+        Hey my bonny laddie!
+     Wur-roo!  my heart's--"
+
+The rage of the little man found extra vent.
+
+"Look here, Caleb Trotter," he concluded, after a full minute of
+profanity, "how do you think I'm to get my living and pay a set of
+lubberly dolts like you?"
+
+Caleb paused with his hand on the windlass, and suggested
+retrenchment of the halfpenny a week hitherto spent in manners.
+"'Cos, you see, all this po-liteness of yourn es a'runnin' to waste,"
+he explained with fine irony.
+
+But before the next load was more than three-parts hoisted, Caleb's
+patience was exhausted.  What he did was simple but decisive.
+He removed his hold; the handle whizzed violently round, and the
+bucket of bricks descended to the hold with a crash.
+
+"Now I tell 'ee straight.  Enough's enough; an' I han't got time, at
+my time o' life, to be po-lite to ivery red-faced chap I meets.
+You can pay me or no, as you likes; but I'm off to get a drink.
+An' that's all about et; an' wen 'tes over, 'tes over, as Joan said
+by her weddin'."
+
+With this Caleb stepped ashore, spat good-naturedly, put his hands in
+his pockets, and went off whistling.
+
+At this moment Mr. Fogo, who had been on the quay long enough to hear
+this altercation, touched him softly by the arm.
+
+"You said you were going to have a drink, I believe.  May I go with
+you?  I wish to ask you a few questions."
+
+
+[Illustration: "You said you were going to have a drink, I believe.
+May I go with you?"]
+
+
+"Sutt'nly, sir," said Caleb with a stifled grin, as he recognised the
+hero of the morning.  "_I_ generally patronises the 'King o'
+Prooshia' for beer.  It won't make your hair curl, nor yet prevent
+your seein' a hole dro' a ladder: but perhaps neither o' these is
+your objec'."
+
+Mr. Fogo, a little bewildered, replied modestly that he pursued
+neither of these aims.  Caleb led the way across the quay, and they
+ascended the steps of the "King of Prussia" together.
+
+"My object," said Mr. Fogo timidly, as they were seated together in
+the low-roofed parlour before two foaming mugs--"My object was this.
+In the first place, I like your look."
+
+"Same to you, sir," said Caleb, and acknowledged the compliment with
+a draught, "though 'tes what my gal said afore she desarted me for a
+Rooshan."
+
+"Are you a single man, then?"
+
+"To be sure, sir."
+
+"So much the better--but I will talk of that presently.  I, too, am a
+single man, with rather peculiar tastes.  One of these is solitude.
+I had heard of Troy as a place where I was likely to find this,
+though my experience of this morning--"
+
+"Never mind, sir.  Accidents will happen even in the best reggylated
+families.  You was took for another, which has happened even to Bible
+characters afore this--though Jacob's the only one I can call to mind
+just now."
+
+"Still, I should be sorry to go back with the knowledge that my
+journey has been in vain.  But I must have solitude at any price, and
+the reason why I am consulting you is that you might possibly know of
+a house to let in this neighbourhood, where I could be alone and
+secure against visitors."
+
+Caleb scratched his head.
+
+"I'm sure, sir, 'tes hard to say.  Troy's a powerful place for
+knowin' what your neighbour's got for dinner, and they _do_ say as
+the Admiral's telescope will carry dro' a brick wall."
+
+Mr. Fogo's face fell.
+
+"Stop a bit," said Caleb more brightly.  "About livin' inside o' the
+town, now--es that a shiny cannon?"
+
+"A what?"
+
+"A shiny cannon--which es the same as to say, won't et do elst?"
+
+"Oh, a _sine-qua-non_," said Mr. Fogo; "no, I am not particularly
+anxious to live in the town itself."
+
+"Wud the matter of a mile up the river be out o' the way?"
+
+"Not at all."
+
+"An' about rent?"
+
+"Within reasonable limits, that would not matter."
+
+"Then my advice to you, sir, es to see the Twins about et."
+
+Mr. Fogo's mild face looked more puzzled than ever.  He removed his
+spectacles, wiped and resumed them.
+
+"For any reasonable object," he said, "I am ready to see any number
+of twins--much as I dislike babies--"
+
+But here Caleb interrupted him by bursting into a roar of laughter
+which lasted for half a minute.
+
+"Babbies! Well I--ho! ho!--'scuse me, sir--but aw dear, aw dear!
+Babbies! Bab--"  Here he slapped his thigh and broke into another
+roar, at the end of which he grew fairly black in the face.
+
+"Bless yer innocent heart, sir!  They'm a matter o' six foot high,
+the both--and risin' forty.  Dearlove's their name--and lives up the
+river 'long wi' their sister--Peter an' Paul an' Tamsin (which es
+short for Thom-a-si-na), an' I've heerd tell as the boys came nigh to
+bein' chrisn'd Sihon an' Og, on'y the old Vicar said he'd be blowed
+fust--very free wi' his langwidge was th' ould Vicar."
+
+"I should fancy so," said Mr. Fogo; "but you'll excuse me if I don't
+quite see, yet, why you advise me to call on these people."
+
+"No offence, sir.  On'y they owns Kit's House, that's all."
+
+"I see; and Kit's House is the place you have in your mind."
+
+"That's et, sir."
+
+"And these Dearloves, where do they live?"
+
+"Furder up the river by two mile."
+
+"Could you row me up this afternoon to see them?"
+
+Caleb Trotter rose, and drew the back of his hand across his mouth.
+
+"Wi' all the pleasure in life, sir, as Uncle Zachy said when he gi'ed
+his da'ter in marriage."
+
+In less than ten minutes Caleb had brought his boat round to the
+quay.  Mr. Fogo stepped in, and was presently seated in the stern and
+meditatively listening while Caleb rowed--and talked--"like a
+Trojan."
+
+Here we may leave them for a while and return to the Admiral, whom we
+left in the act of plunging furiously into his own house.  It was not
+the habit of that fiery little tar to hide his emotions from the wife
+of his bosom.
+
+"Emily!" he bellowed, "Em-i-ly, I say!  Come down this instant."
+
+The three Misses Buzza at the parlour window knew the tone, and
+shuddered: Mrs. Buzza, up-stairs, heard, trembled, and obeyed.
+
+"Yes, darling.  What is it?"
+
+"Fill the warming-pan at once.  I'm going to bed."
+
+"To bed, love!"
+
+"Yes, to bed.  Don't I speak plainly enough?  To bed, ma'am, to bed,
+and at once."
+
+"You are upset, dearest; be cool, I implore you."
+
+"Be cool!  Be coo'--Don't hector me, ma'am, but fetch that
+warming-pan at once.  I'll teach you about being cool!  Sophy, pull
+off my boots."
+
+They obeyed.  The warming-pan was brought--an enormous engine, big
+enough to hold the Admiral himself--and the bed heated.  The Admiral
+undressed, and, himself a warming-pan of rage, plunged between the
+sheets.  It was a wonder the bed-clothes were not on fire.
+
+"Pull down the blind, and bring me something to eat!"
+
+"Yes, love."
+
+"And be quick about it.  Can't you see I'm starving?"
+
+It is true that the Admiral's excitement had interfered with his
+breakfast that morning, but it was none the less difficult to read
+starvation upon his face.  Mrs. Buzza obeyed, however; and presently
+returned with the liver-wing of a fowl.
+
+"You call that a dinner for a hungry man, I suppose!  Bring me some
+more!"
+
+"My dear, I didn't know you wanted a dinner."
+
+"Confound it, ma'am!  must I put dress-studs in my night-shirt to
+convince you I want to dine?  Bring me some more!"
+
+"There is no more fowl, dear.  I kept this from yesterday's as a
+tit-bit for you."
+
+"What is for dinner to-day?"
+
+"Boiled beef: but you said expressly that dinner was to be late
+to-day, in consequence of the arrivals, and it is not nearly done
+yet."
+
+"I don't care, bring it!"
+
+The mention of the arrivals sent the Admiral up to a white heat
+again.
+
+"But, my--"
+
+"Bring it!"
+
+It was brought.  The Admiral had two helpings, and then a glass of
+grog.
+
+"Go."
+
+Mrs. Buzza withdrew.  Left to himself, the Admiral tossed, and
+turned, and fumed, and swore, lay still for a while, and then
+repeated the process backwards.  After a time the bed-clothes began
+to prick him, and the heat to become a positive torture.  He leapt
+out, and tore at the bell-rope, until it came away in his hand--just
+as his wife reappeared.
+
+"Will you kindly inform me what the devil's wrong with this bed?
+Who made it?"
+
+"Selina, dear."
+
+"Then will you kindly give Selina a month's notice on the spot?
+Do you hear?  On the spot--What's that?"
+
+The Admiral rushed to the window and pulled up the blind.  He was
+just in time to see a close carriage and pair dash past and pull up
+at "The Bower."
+
+A moment afterwards, Miss Limpenny, from the first-storey window of
+No. 1, saw the carriage door open, and a tall gentleman emerge.
+The tall gentleman was followed by a lady, whom even at that distance
+Miss Limpenny could see to possess a remarkably graceful figure.
+A small youth in livery sprang down from beside the coachman and
+helped to lower the boxes, whilst the new arrivals passed into the
+house where the charwoman, Mrs. Snell, stood smearing her face with
+her apron, and ducking in frenzied welcome.
+
+The Honourable Frederic Augustus Hythe Goodwyn-Sandys and his wife,
+instead of arriving by train, had posted from Five-Lanes Junction.
+
+There was no public demonstration.  They might as well have come in
+the dead of night.  Miss Limpenny was almost the sole witness of
+their arrival, and Miss Limpenny's observations were cut short by a
+terrible occurrence.
+
+She had taken stock of the Honourable Frederic, and pronounced him
+"aristocratic-looking"; of the Honourable Mrs. Frederic's
+travelling-dress, and decided it to be _Cumeelfo_; she had counted
+the boxes twice, and made them seven each time; she was about to
+count the buttons on the liveried youth, when--
+
+To this day she sinks her voice as she narrates it.  She saw--the
+unseemliness, the monstrous indelicacy of it!--she saw--the nightcap
+and shoulders of Admiral Buzza craning out of the next-door window!
+
+What happened next?  Whether she actually fainted, or merely kept her
+eyes shut, she cannot clearly remember.  But for weeks afterwards, as
+she declares, the sight of a man caused her to "turn all colours."
+
+It was significant, this nightcap of Admiral Buzza--as the ram's horn
+to Jericho, the Mother Carey's chicken to the doomed ship.
+It announced, even as it struck, the first blow at the old morality
+of Troy.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+
+OF CERTAIN LEPERS; AND TWO BROTHERS, WHO, BEING MUCH ALIKE, LOVED
+THEIR SISTER, AND RECOMMENDED THE USE OF GLOBES.
+
+I must here clear myself on a point which has no doubt caused the
+reader some indignation.  "We remarked," he or she will say, "that,
+some chapters back, the Admiral described Troy as a 'beautiful little
+town.'  Why, then, have we had no description of it, no digressions
+on scenery, no word-painting?"
+
+To this I answer--Dear sir, or madam, no one who has known Troy was
+ever yet capable of describing it.  If you doubt me, visit the town
+and see for yourself.  I will for the moment suppose you to do so.
+What happens?
+
+On the first day you take a boat and row about the harbour.
+"Scenery!" you exclaim, "why, what could you have more?  Here is a
+lovely harbour flanked by bold hills to right and left; here are the
+ruined castles, witnesses of the great days when Troy sent ships to
+carry the English army to Agincourt; here axe grey houses huddled at
+the water's edge, hoary, battered walls and quay-doors coated with
+ooze and green weed.  Such is Troy, and on the further shore quaint
+Penpoodle faces it, where a silver creek, dividing, runs up to
+Lanbeg; further up, the harbour melts into a river where the old
+ferry-boat plies to and from the foot of a tiny village straggling up
+the hill; further yet, and the jetties mingle with the steep woods
+beside the roads, where the vessels lie thickest; ships of all builds
+and of all nations, from the trim Canadian timber-ship to the
+corpulent Billy-boy.  Why, the very heart of the picturesque is here.
+What more can you want?"
+
+On the second day you will see all this from the harbour again, or
+perhaps you will cross the ferry and climb the King's Walk on the
+opposite bank; you will see it all, but with a change.  It is more
+lovely, but not the same.
+
+On the third day you will cast about in your mind to explain this;
+and so in time you will come to find that it is the spirit of Troy
+that plays this trick upon you.  For you will have learnt to love the
+place, and love, as you know, dear sir or madam, is apt to affect the
+eyesight.
+
+The eyes of Mr. Fogo, as Caleb pulled sturdily up with the tide, were
+passing through the first of these stages.
+
+"This," he said at length, reflectively, "is one of the loveliest
+spots I have looked upon."
+
+Caleb, in whom humanity and Trojanity were nicely compounded, flushed
+a bright copper-colour with pleasure.
+
+"'Tes reckoned a tidy spot," he answered modestly, "by them as cares
+for voos an' such-like."
+
+"There, now," he went on, after a pause, and turning round, "yonder's
+Kit's House, wi' Kit's Cottage, next door.  You can't see the house
+so plain, 'cos 'tes behind the trees.  But there 'tes, right enough."
+
+"Is the cottage uninhabited, too?"
+
+"Both on 'em.  Ha'nted they _do_ say.  By the way, I niver axed 'ee
+whether you minded ghostes?"
+
+"Ghosts?"
+
+"Iss, ghostes.  This 'ere place was a Lazarus one time, where they
+kept leppards."
+
+"Leopards?  How very singular!" murmured Mr. Fogo.
+
+"Ay, leppards as white as snow, as the sayin' goes."
+
+"Oh, I see," said Mr. Fogo, suddenly enlightened.  "You mean that
+this was a Lazar-house."
+
+"That's so--a Lazarus.  The leppards used to live there together, and
+when they died, they was berried at dead o' night down at thicky spit
+you sees yonder.  No one had dealin's wi' 'em nor went nigh 'em,
+'cept that they was allowed to make ropes.  'Tesn' so many years that
+the rope-walk was moved down to th' harbour mouth."
+
+Caleb stopped rowing, and leant forward on his paddles.
+
+"These 'ere leppards in time got to be quite a happy famb'ly--'cept,
+of course, they warn't happy, 'cos nobody wudn' have nuthin' to say
+to 'em.  Well, the story goes as one on 'em got falled in love wi' by
+a very nice gal down in Troy, and one fine day she ups an' tells her
+sorrowin' parents that she's agoin' to marry a leppard.  'Not ef we
+knows et,' says they; 'we forbids the banns'; and wi' that they went
+off to bed thinkin' as they'd settled et.  'But,' says Parson
+Lasky--"
+
+"Who was he?" interrupted Mr. Fogo.
+
+"On'y a figger o' speech, sir, and nothin' to do wi' the yarn, as the
+strollin' actor said when his theayter cotched a-fire.  Wot I meant
+was, that very night the gal gets a boat an' rows up to Kit's House,
+arter leavin' a letter to say as she'd drownded hersel'.  An' there
+she lived in hidin', 'long wi' the leppards for the rest of her days,
+which, by the tale, warn't many, an' she an' her sweetheart was
+berried in wan grave."  Caleb paused for breath.
+
+"And the ghosts?"
+said Mr. Fogo, much interested.
+
+"Some ha' seed her rowin' about here in a boat, o' dark nights; and
+others swear to seein' all the leppards a-marchin' down wi' her
+corpse to the berryin'-ground.  Leastways, that's the tale.
+Jan Spettigue was the last as seed 'em, but as he be'eld three devils
+on his own chimbly-piece the week arter, along o' too much rum,
+p'r'aps he made a mistake.  Anyways, 'tes a moral yarn, an' true to
+natur'.  These young wimmen es a very detarmined sex, whether 'tes a
+leppard in the case or a Rooshan."
+
+Mr. Fogo had fallen into a reflective silence.
+
+"'Tes a thousand pities this 'ere place should be empty, wi' a
+lean-to Crystal Pallis--by which I means a conserva-tory, sir--an'
+gardens, an' room for a cow, an' a Pyll o' ets own--"
+
+"A what?"
+
+"Pyll, sir, otherwise a creek--'c, r, double e, k--an arm o' the
+sea,' as the spellin' book says."
+
+A curious fascination stole over Mr. Fogo as he looked earnestly at
+the house round which these memories hung.  Standing on an angle
+formed by the bending river, and the little creek, and behind a
+screen of trees--elms almost too old to feel the sap of spring, a
+chestnut or two, and a few laurels and sombre firs, that had cracked
+with their roots the grey garden wall and sprawled down to the beach
+below--the stained and yellow frontage looked down towards the busy
+harbour, as it seemed with a sense of serene decay, haunted but
+without disquietude, like the face of an old lady who has memories
+and lives in them, though she deigns to contemplate a life from which
+her hopes, with her old friends and lovers, have dropped out.
+Perhaps Mr. Fogo had some sympathy with this mood; for Caleb, after
+waiting some time for his reply, took to his paddles again with a
+will, and presently the boat, sweeping round a projecting rock,
+passed into a very different scene.
+
+Here the river, shut in on the one side with budding trees to the
+water's edge, on the other with bracken and patches of ploughed land
+to where the cliffs broke sheer away, stretched for some miles
+without bend or break.  Far ahead a blue bank of woodland closed the
+view.  Not a sound disturbed the stillness, not a sail broke the
+placid expanse of water.
+
+But a true Trojan must still be talking.  Presently Caleb resumed.
+
+"'Tes a luvly spot, as you said, sir.  Mr. Moggridge down at the
+customs--he's a poet, as maybe you know--has written a mint o' verses
+about this 'ere place.  'Natur', he says:--"
+
+     "Natur' has 'ere assoomed her softest garb;
+      'Ere would I live an' die
+
+"--which I calls a very touchin' sentiment, an' like what they says
+in a nigger song."
+
+With such conversation Mr. Trotter beguiled the way until they came
+abreast of a tiny village almost buried in apple trees and elms.
+On the opposite bank, a thin column of blue smoke was curling up from
+among the dense woodland.
+
+Caleb headed the boat for this smoke, ran her nose on the pebbles
+beneath a low cliff, and stepped out.
+
+"'Ere we are, sir."
+
+"But I don't see any house," said Mr. Fogo, perplexed.
+
+"All in good time, sir," replied Mr. Trotter, and having fastened up
+the boat, led the way.
+
+A narrow flight of steps, hewn out of the rock, led up to the little
+cliff.  At the top, and almost hidden by bushes, stood a low gate.
+Thence the path wound for a space between walls of budding hazel, and
+at its end quite unexpectedly a tiny cottage burst upon Mr. Fogo's
+view.
+
+Little dreaming that the owner of Kit's House could live in such
+humility, he was considerably surprised when Caleb stepped up and
+struck a rousing knock upon the door.
+
+It was opened by a comely girl with a white apron pinned before her
+neat stuff gown, and a face as fresh and healthful as a spring day.
+
+"Why, Caleb," she cried, "who would have thought it?  Come inside;
+you're as welcome as flowers in May."
+
+"And you," replied Caleb gallantly, "are a-lookin' so sweet as
+blossom.  Here's a gentlem'n come to call upon 'ee, my dear.
+An' how's Peter an' Paul?  Brave, I hopes."
+
+"Both, thank you, Caleb," said the maiden, curtseying without
+embarrassment to Mr. Fogo.  "Won't you come in, sir?"
+
+It was noticeable that Mr. Fogo at this point became very nervous,
+but he crossed the threshold in answer to this invitation.
+Mr. Trotter followed.
+
+The fragrant smoke of a wood fire filled the room in which Mr. Fogo
+found himself.  It was a rude kitchen, with white limeash floor, and
+for ceiling, a few whitewashed beams and the planching of the bedroom
+above.  All was scrupulously clean.  In the flickering obscurity of
+the chimney depended a line of black pot-hooks and hangers; a trivet
+and a pair of bellows furnished the hearth; from the capacious rack
+hung a rich stock of hams and sides of bacon, curing in the smoke; an
+English clock stood in one corner, a tall cupboard in another, and a
+geranium in the window-seat.  Along the side opposite the door, and
+parallel to a dresser of shining crockery, ran a strong deal table.
+Some high-backed chairs, a pair of brass candlesticks with snuffers,
+a book or two, a few old hats, and a lanthorn, on various pegs,
+completed the furniture of the place.
+
+But Mr. Fogo's gaze was riveted on two men who rose together at his
+entrance from the table where they were seated, side by side, at
+their tea.
+
+Both tall, both adorned with crisp curls of black hair--with
+clean-shaven, mahogany faces, and the gentlest of possible smiles,
+the twins came forward to greet the stranger.  So appallingly alike
+were they that Mr. Fogo felt a ridiculous desire to run away, nor
+could help fancying himself the victim of a disordered dream.
+
+The Twins advanced upon him simultaneously with outstretched horny
+palms.  He noticed that even their dress was precisely similar, with
+the single exception that one wore a red, the other a yellow bandanna
+handkerchief loosely knotted about his throat.
+
+
+[Illustration: The Twins advanced upon him simultaneously.]
+
+
+"You'm kindly welcome, sir," said the Twin with the red bandanna; and
+the Twin with the yellow neck-cloth murmured "kindly welcome," like
+an echo.
+
+"Stop a bit," interposed Caleb, "let's do a bit of introducin'.
+This here es Mr. Fogo, gent, as es thinkin' of rentin' Kit's House,
+and es come for that puppos'.  That there es Peter Dearlove--him wi'
+the red neckercher; likewise Paul Dearlove--him wi' the yaller.
+An', beggin' yer pardon for passin' over the ladies, this es Tamsin
+Dearlove (christ'n'd Thomasina), dearly beloved sister o' the same,"
+concluded Caleb, with a sudden recollection of having read something
+like this on a tombstone.
+
+Tamsin curtseyed, and the two horny palms were again presented.
+Not knowing which to take first,
+
+Mr. Fogo held his umbrella between his knees and gave them a hand
+a-piece.
+
+"I am afraid, Mr.--"   He hesitated with a suspicion that he ought to
+say "Messrs."
+
+"Dearlove," suggested Caleb; "an' reckoned a purty name, too."
+
+"I am afraid, Mr. Dearlove," repeated Mr. Fogo, compromising matters
+by staring hard between the Twins, "that we have interrupted you."
+
+"Not at all, sir," said Peter.  "Sit down, sir, ef you'm not proud.
+Tamsin, bring a cup for the gentleman.  A piece o' pasty, sir?
+Tamsin es famous for pasties."
+
+Mr. Fogo, remembering that, with the exception of the mug of beer at
+the "King of Prussia," he had not broken his fast since the morning,
+and seeing also that the hospitality was anxiously sincere, complied.
+In a few moments both he and Caleb were seated before a steaming
+pasty.
+
+Tamsin poured out the tea.  She was a full twenty years younger than
+her brothers, as could be seen notwithstanding their boyish look,
+which came from innocence and clean-shaven faces.  It was pleasant to
+see their almost fatherly pride in her.  Mr. Fogo noted it vaguely,
+but an inexplicable nervousness seemed to have overtaken him since
+entering the cottage.
+
+"I came," he said at last, "to inquire about Kit's House, which I
+hear is to let."
+
+"Thankin' you kindly, sir," answered Peter; "an' I won't say but what
+we shall be glad to let et.  But Paul and I ha' been puttin' our
+heads togither, and we allow 'tes for Tamsin to say."
+
+Here he looked at Paul, who nodded gravely and repeated, in his
+former mechanical tone, "for Tamsin to say."
+
+Mr. Fogo looked more distressed than ever.
+
+"I beg your pardon, I'm sure," he began, with a quick glance at the
+girl, who was quietly pouring tea; "I did not know."
+
+"No offence, sir.  On'y, don't you see, 'tes this way.  Kit's House
+es a gran' place wi' a slaty roof an' a I-talian garden, and a mighty
+deal too fine for the likes of Paul an' me.  But wi' Tamsin 'tes
+another thing.  We both agree she ought to be a leddy--not but what
+she's a better gal than tens o' thousands o' leddies--an' more than
+once we've offered to get her larnt the pi-anner an' callysthenics,
+an' the use o' globes, an' all such things which we knows to be usual
+in gran' sussiety; on'y she sticks to et to bide along wi' we.
+God bless her!  I say, an' a rough life et must be for her."
+
+Tamsin turned away towards the fireplace, and became very busy among
+the pot-hooks and hangers.  Her brother pulled out a red
+handkerchief--a fellow to the one around his neck--mopped his face
+and proceeded--
+
+"Well, as I was a-saying, seein' she was bent on bein' wi' us, Paul
+and me allowed to each other that we'd set up in fine style at Kit's
+House, so as not to rob her of what es her doo: that es to say--one
+of us wou'd live down there wi' a car'ge and pair o' hosses, and cut
+a swell wi' dinner parties an' what-not, while the other bided here
+an' tilled 'taties, turn and turn about.  But she wudn' hear o' that,
+neither.  She's a terrible stubborn gal, bless her!"
+
+"We shou'd ha' been slow at larnin' the ropes, just at fust," he
+resumed after a moment's silence, "not bein' scholards, partikler at
+the use o' globes, which I _have_ heerd es diffycult, though very
+entertainin' in company when you knows how 'tes done.  But we was
+ready to try a hand--on'y she wudn' have et, an' so et has gone on.
+But, beggin' your pardon, sir, and hopin' no offence, she shall give
+her answer afore 'tes too late.  Eh, Paul?"
+
+"You have spoken, Peter," said the other twin, very slowly, "like a
+printed book.  Let Tamsin speak her mind about et."
+
+The girl came forward from the fireplace, and Mr. Fogo, as he stole a
+glance at her, could see that her eyes were red.
+
+"What do 'ee say, Tamsin?  Must we let Kit's House, or shall we leave
+th' ould place an' go an' make a leddy of 'ee?"
+
+Tamsin's reply was to fall on her knees before the speaker and break
+into a fit of weeping.
+
+"Don't ask me, don't ask me!  I don't want to be a lady, an' I
+_won't_ leave you.  Don't ask me, my dear, dear brothers!"
+
+Peter stroked the dark head buried in his lap, while Paul blew his
+nose violently in a yellow bandanna, and replied to Mr. Fogo.
+
+"Very well, sir, so be et.  There's the key of Kit's House yonder on
+the nail.  Ef you likes to look over the place, one of us will follow
+you presently, and then, supposin' et to be to your likin', us can
+talk over terms."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+
+HOW AN ABSENT-MINDED MAN, THAT HATED WOMEN, TOOK A HOUSE BY THE
+WATER-SIDE, AND LIVED THEREIN WITH ONE SERVANT.
+
+"Well, sir,"  said Caleb Trotter, when the boat was pushed off, "what
+do 'ee think of 'em?"
+
+Mr. Fogo, whose wits had been wool-gathering, came to himself with a
+start.  "I think they are very good people."
+
+"You may say that!  The likes o' those Twins you won't see again, not
+ef you live to be a hundred.  Seems to me," he went on reflectively,
+"that Natur', when she turned out the fust, got so pleased wi'
+herself that she was bound to try her hand at a dooplicity, just to
+relieve her feelin's."
+
+"A what?"
+
+"A dooplicity, sir, otherwise another of the same identical."
+
+"Oh, I see."
+
+"Iss, sir.  'Tes like that rhyme about the Force o' Natur' what cudn'
+no furder go, and you can't do 't agen, not ef you try all you know."
+
+"You are fond of poetry, I see," said Mr. Fogo, with a smile.
+
+"Puffec'ly dotes on et, sir."
+
+"Have you ever composed any yourself?"
+
+"Once 'pon a time, sir," said Caleb, pausing in his work, and leaning
+forward very mysteriously.  "Ef you cares to hear, I don't mind
+tellin' 'ee; on'y you must gi' me your Davy you won't let et out to
+nobody."
+
+Mr. Fogo gave the required promise.
+
+"Well, 'twas in this way.  Once 'pon a time, me an' old Joe Bonaday
+was workin' a smack round from Bristol.  The _Betsy Ann_ was her
+name, No.  1077 o' Troy.  Joe was skipper, an' me mate; there was a
+boy aboard for crew, but he don't count.  Well us got off Ilfrycombe
+one a'ternoon--August month et was, an' pipin' hot--when my blessed
+parlyment, says Molly Franky--"
+
+"Who was she?"
+
+"Another figger o' speech, sir, that's all.  Well, as I was a-sayin',
+on a sudden, lo and be'old! the breeze drops dead.  Ef you'll believe
+me, sir, 'twas calm as the Sar'gossa Sea.  So there we was stuck--the
+sail not so much as flappin'--for the best part o' two hour; at the
+end o' which time (Joe not bein' a convussational man beyond sayin'
+'thankye' when he got hes vittles) I was gettin' a bit dumb-foundered
+for topicks to talk 'pon.  'Cos, as for the weather, there 'twas,
+an', as Joe remarked, 'twasn' going to move any more for our
+discussin' of et, nor yet cussin' for that matter."
+
+"I see."
+
+"Well, sir, we was driven at last to singin' a hymn to keep our
+speerits up.  Leastways, the boy an' me sang, an' Joe beat time.
+Then says Joe, 'Look 'ere, I'm a-goin' to allee-couchee ef et lasts
+like this.' 'Well,' I says, for I was gettin' desprit, 'have 'ee ever
+tried to make poetry?' 'No,' says he, 'can't say I have.' 'Well,' I
+says, 'I've oft'n wanted to.  Let's ha' a shy.  You go aft and think
+of a verse, an' I'll go forra'd an' make another, an' then us'll see
+which sounds best.' 'Done,' says he, an' off he goes.
+
+"Well, I sits there for mor'n an hour, thinkin' hard, and terrable
+work I found et.  At last Joe shouts across, 'Hav'ee done?
+Time's up'; and I told 'un I'd done purty middlin'.  So us stepped
+amidships, and spoke out what us had made."
+
+Caleb made a long pause.
+
+"I should like to hear the verses, if you remember them," said Mr.
+Fogo.
+
+"Should 'ee now?" Caleb asked with fine modesty.  "Well, I don't
+mind, on'y you mus'n' expect 'em to be like Maister Moggridge's.
+Mine went thicky way."  He recited very slowly, with a terrific
+rolling of syllables:--
+
+    "See her glidin' dro' the water,
+        Far, far away!
+     Many a true heart's niver to be found.
+
+"The last line alludes to my gal wot had recently e-loped wi' the
+Rooshan," Caleb explained.
+
+"Was that all?"
+
+"That was all o' mine, sir, but Joe's was p'ints better.
+Just listen:--"
+
+    "Fare thee well, Barnstaple steeple,--"
+
+"(He was a Barnstaple man, sir, was Joe)--"
+
+     "Fare thee well, I say,
+        Never shall I see thee, once agen, a long time ago."
+
+"Well, sir, we was just a-goin' to step back an' have another shy,
+when the breeze sprang up a'most as sudden as et fell, and the
+consikence es, sir, that I've niver made no more poetry from that day
+to this."
+
+The sun was getting low, as Mr. Fogo and Caleb stepped ashore on the
+ruined quay at Kit's House, not far from the spit of land where the
+lazars were buried.  Kit's Cottage stood plain to see at a short
+distance from the water, but Kit's House lay to the right, behind its
+screen of laurels and elms.  A narrow flight of steps and a path
+along the cliff's edge brought the visitors to the front door.
+
+It was a long, low house, with pointed windows on the upper storey,
+and a deep verandah shading the ground-floor rooms.  It faced the
+south, and although few flowers were out, the ruined garden was
+luxuriant with decay.  One could see where the old Lazar-house had
+been overlaid with the taste of more recent inhabitants, but, as
+Caleb said, no one had lived here now for a dozen years or more.
+The walls were smeared with green vegetation; the iron gate creaked
+heavily with rust.  On the roof the stonecrop flourished, and the
+swallows had built their nests about the chimneys.
+
+Indoors it was as bad.  Rich papers hung and rotted from the walls;
+rats scampered about the floors overhead; a smell of damp and
+mouldiness pervaded every room.
+
+"Deary me, sir!" said Caleb in despair, "I'd no idee 'twas as bad as
+this, or I wou'dn' have mentioned the place to 'ee."
+
+An old barrel stood on end before the French-window of the
+drawing-room.  Mr. Fogo seated himself on this, and gazed
+meditatively out on the mellow glory of the evening.
+
+"Caleb,"  he said very quietly, after a while, "I think I shall take
+this house."
+
+"You will, sir?"
+
+"I fancy there will be no difficulty in arranging about the rent.
+And now I want to speak with you on another question.  You are a
+single man, you say.  Have you any employment?"
+
+"Why, sir, I mostly picks up my livin' on the say, on'y I thought as
+how I'd like a spell ashore for a change; but the end o' that you saw
+for yourself this very a'ternoon."
+
+"Do you think that for a pound a week you could look after me?"
+
+"I'd like the chance."
+
+"That would exclude your food and clothes."
+
+Caleb hesitated for a moment, and then said, with Trojan
+independence--
+
+"You beant' a-goin' to rig me out in a yaller weskit an'
+small-clothes wi' a stripe down the leg, by any chance?"
+
+"I was proposing that you should dress exactly as you do at present."
+
+"Then done wi' you, sir, an' thank 'ee.  When be I to enter on my
+dooties?"
+
+"At once."
+
+"An' where, sir?"
+
+"Here."
+
+"Be you a-goin' to sleep the night in this moloncholy place?"
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"Very well, sir.  Please yoursel', as Dick said to the press-gang.
+An' what be I to do fust?"
+
+Mr. Fogo perhaps did not hear the question, for he was gazing out at
+the falling shadows: when he spoke again it was upon another subject.
+
+"It is right that you should know," said he, "the kind of life you
+will be wanted to lead.  In the first place, I am extraordinarily
+subject to fits of abstraction--absence of mind, in other words.
+It is an affection to which my style of life has made me particularly
+prone: it has led me before now into absurd, and sometimes into
+dangerous situations.
+
+"I _have_ heard tell," said Caleb, "of an old gentl'm'n as carefully
+tucked hes umbrella in bed an' put hissel' in the corner.  Es that
+the style o' thing, sir?"
+
+"It is something similar," said his master, "and within certain
+limits I should expect you to look after me and as far as possible
+prevent such accidents: however, I shall not, of course, expect you
+to have more than one pair of eyes.  My tastes are simple--I read a
+little, sketch a little, botanise, dabble in chemistry, am fond of
+carpentering--boat-building especially.  My very absence of mind
+makes me indifferent to surroundings.  In short, I am a mild man."
+
+Mr. Fogo got off his barrel, went to the window, sighed softly, and
+returned.  Something in his manner imposed silence on Caleb.
+
+"We shall live here alone," he resumed.  "It is even possible that,
+to ensure solitude, I shall rent the cottage as well, and install you
+there.  Above all things, remember," with sudden sternness, "that no
+woman is to come near this house--I shall even expect you to do your
+utmost to prevent their landing on the quay below.  That, I think, is
+all.  I now wish you to row down to the station and get my
+portmanteau.  After that, with this money procure a couple of
+hammocks, besides provisions and whatever will be necessary for the
+night, not forgetting soap and candles.  To-morrow we will take in
+further stock."
+
+Caleb was about to make some answer when the garden gate creaked
+heavily, and Peter Dearlove appeared in the dusk outside the window;
+so he merely took the money, touched his forelock by way of
+acknowledging his new employment, and retired.  But it was noticeable
+that once or twice on his way to the boat he had to pull himself up
+and think a bit.  Arrived on the quay, too, he stood for a moment or
+so beside the boat in profound meditation.
+
+"Come, Caleb Trotter!" he exclaimed, suddenly jumping in and seizing
+the paddles; "this sort o' thing won't do, nohow.  Here you be paid
+for lookin' arter a gentl'm'n as wanders in hes wits, and fust news
+es, you be doin' the same yoursel'.  'Tes terribul queer, though," he
+added, and with that began to row towards town with an energy that
+set the boat quivering.
+
+When he returned, in less than two hours' time, he found Mr. Fogo
+with a barrel full of water and the stump of a decayed broom, washing
+out the back kitchen.  The Twin had gone.
+
+"Here we be, sir.  Pound o' candles, pound o' tea, two loaves o'
+bread, knives, forks, two cups, three eggs--one on 'em smashed, in my
+trowsy pocket--saucepan, kettle, tea-pot, an' a hunk o' cold beef as
+salt as Lot's wife's elbow.  That's the fust load.  There's more in
+the boat, but I must ax'ee to bear a hand wi' thicky portmanty o'
+youm, 'cos 'tes mortal heavy.  I see'd Jan Higgs's wife a-fishin'
+about two hundred yards from the quay, on my way up, an' warned her
+to keep her distance.  There's a well o' water round at the back, an'
+I've fetched a small sack o' coal, and ef us don't have a dish o' tay
+ready in a brace o' shakes, then Tom's killed an' Mary's forlorn."
+
+With the statement of which gloomy alternative Mr. Caleb Trotter
+broke into a smile of honest pride.
+
+"Caleb," said Mr. Fogo from his hammock in the back kitchen at about
+eleven o'clock on the same night.
+
+"Aye, aye, sir."
+
+"Are you comfortable?"
+
+"Thank'ee, sir, gettin' on nicely.  Just a bit Man-Fridayish to begin
+wi', but as corrat as Crocker's mare."
+
+"What did you say?"
+
+"Figger o' speech agen, sir, that's all.  Good-night, sir."
+
+"Good-night, Caleb."
+
+Mr. Fogo settled himself in his hammock, sighed for a second time and
+dropped asleep.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+
+HOW CERTAIN TROJANS CLIMBED A WALL OUT OF CURIOSITY; AND OF A
+CHARWOMAN THAT COULD GIVE NO INFORMATION.
+
+Meanwhile, curiosity in Troy was beating its wings against the closed
+doors of "The Bower."  The early morning train next day brought three
+domestics to supplement the youth in buttons, and supplant the
+charwoman.  Miss Limpenny, in _deshabille_ (but at a decent distance
+from the window), saw them arrive, and called Lavinia to look, with
+the result that within two minutes the sisters had satisfied
+themselves as to which was the cook, which the parlour-maid, and
+which the kitchen-maid.
+
+Later in the day, a van-load of furniture arrived, though "The Bower"
+was already furnished; but, as Miss Limpenny said, in all these
+matters of comfort and refinement, "there are degrees."  On this
+occasion the Admiral, who had been prevailed upon to leave his bed,
+executed a manoeuvre the audacity of which should have commanded
+success.
+
+He crossed the road, and opened a conversation with the driver.
+
+But success does not always wait on the brave.  The van-driver
+happened to have a temper as short as the Admiral's, and far less
+reverence.
+
+"Good-morning," said the Admiral, cheerily.
+
+"Mornin'."
+
+"What's a-foot to-day?"
+
+"Same as yesterday--twelve inches."
+
+The Admiral was rather taken aback, but smiled, nevertheless, and
+persevered.
+
+"Ha, ha! very good.  You are a wit, I perceive."
+
+But the driver's conversation teemed with the unexpected.
+
+"Look 'ere, Ruby-face! give me any more of your sass an' I'll punch
+yer 'ed for tuppence."
+
+This was conclusive.  The Admiral struck his flag, re-crossed the
+street, went indoors, and had it out with Mrs. Buzza.  Indeed, at the
+end of half-an-hour that poor lady's feelings were so overwrought,
+and, in consequence, her sobs so loud, that the Admiral had perforce
+to get out his double-bass and play a selection of martial music to
+prevent Miss Limpenny's hearing them on the other side of the
+partition.
+
+All this happened early in the afternoon.  Towards five o'clock Miss
+Limpenny, who had only left her post twice, and on each occasion to
+snatch a hurried meal, was rewarded for her patience.  The front door
+of "The Bower" opened, and Mr. and Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys appeared,
+dressed, as Miss Limpenny could see, for a walk.
+
+"Now, I wonder," reflected that kind soul, "which direction they will
+take.  Personally, of course, I should prefer them to pass this
+window; but I hope I can subdue private inclination to public spirit,
+and for Troy's sake I hope they will visit the Castle first.
+The salubrity of the air, as well as the expansiveness of the view,
+would be certain to impress them favourably.  Dear, dear! I wish I
+could advise them.  Should they take the direction of the town, I
+know by experience they will be apt to meet with an effluvium of
+decaying fish, and I should _so_ like their stay among us to be begun
+under pleasant auspices."
+
+But almost before Miss Limpenny had concluded these reflections, the
+strangers had determined on the direction.  They turned neither
+towards the Town nor up the hill towards the Castle and the harbour's
+mouth; but down the little road which led to Bower Slip and the
+Penpoodle Ferryboat.
+
+"Gracious me!" exclaimed Miss Limpenny; "they are going to take a
+boat."
+
+The words were scarcely out of her mouth, when she was seized with a
+sudden idea--an idea so alluring, yet so bold withal, that the blood
+flew from her cheeks.  She made a step forward, paused, took another
+step, and returned to the window.  The strangers had turned down the
+road and were out of sight.
+
+For a full minute she stood there, tapping her foot.
+
+"I will," she said, with sudden determination.  "I will!"  On Miss
+Limpenny's maiden lip the words were as solemn as though she spoke
+them at the altar.  "I will,--and--I don't care what happens!"
+
+Awful words!  Awful in themselves, more awful from such lips, but
+surely most awful as making the second-step in the moral decadence of
+Troy!
+
+Yet I would not have my readers too excited.  They were words to
+shudder at, indeed; but the immediate consequences were not bloody--
+they were only to a limited degree tragic.  It must be remembered
+that the magnificence of all actions is relative to the performer,
+nor would I seek to exalt Miss Limpenny to the level of a Semiramis
+or a Dido; only, when I say that she bore a great soul in a little
+body, I say no more than that she was a Trojan.
+
+In short, Miss Limpenny did not, as the reader may have expected,
+take a boat and pursue after the strangers.  What she did was simply
+to descend swiftly to the front hall, take down from its stand an
+antique, brass-bound telescope of enormous proportions, and with it
+make her way swiftly to the back door.
+
+The back gardens of Alma Villas ran parallel to each other, and were
+terminated by a high wall, with a quay-door apiece, a tall ladder
+leading from the door straight down to the water.  At the end of the
+garden, and built against this wall, in each case a stone terrace
+with a flight of steps allowed any one who chose to climb, and even
+perform a limited promenade while enjoying a full view of the harbour
+beyond.
+
+It was to this flight of steps that Miss Limpenny, with a prayer on
+her lips and the telescope under her arm, made her way.
+
+Both terrace and steps were rickety to a degree.  To help you to
+estimate her conduct at its full temerity I may mention that Miss
+Limpenny had never attempted the climb before in her life.
+But whatever qualms she may have felt, they did not appear in her
+behaviour.  Gingerly, but without hesitation, and clutching the
+telescope, which impeded her as an ice-axe the rock-climber, she
+essayed all the perils of this maiden ascent.
+
+Five minutes' stiff climbing, as they say in the _Alpine Journal_,
+brought her to a point where she could take breath and look about
+her.  Despite her terror, the excitement and the light breeze now
+blowing over the _arete_ of garden wall, had brought a flush to her
+cheek.  But scarcely had she resumed and set her foot upon the
+summit, when the flush suddenly faded, and left her blanched as snow.
+
+For there, not a foot to her right, and above the crest of the
+partition wall, rose another telescope, the exact counterpart of her
+own!
+
+The Spectre on the Brocken was nothing to this.
+
+She clutched at the rotten stones and panted for breath.
+Slowly, very slowly, the rival telescope was tilted up against the
+harbour-wall; very slowly it rose in air.  Then came a pair of
+hands--of blue cuffs--and then--the crimson face of Admiral Buzza
+soared into view, like the child's head in _Macbeth_.
+
+He did not see her yet, being absorbed in adjusting the telescope.
+Terror-smitten, too fearful to advance or retreat, clinging to the
+telescope with one hand as a drowning mariner might grasp a spar, and
+clutching with the other at the crumbling wall, Miss Limpenny stood
+arrested, wildly staring, scarce venturing to breathe.
+
+The Admiral's telescope was tilted into position, and the Admiral
+half-turned his head before applying his eye to the hole.
+
+She could not help it.  In spite of all her efforts to repress it, a
+little gasping squeal of affright broke from her.  The Admiral, with
+a start, withdrew his eye quickly from the glass, and looked over the
+wall.
+
+"Damnation!" (This was the Admiral, by the way.)
+
+What happened exactly at this moment will never be known.  Whether a
+stone underfoot gave way, or whether the Admiral's voice brought down
+a _serac_ of rotten wall, is not clear.  There was a rumbling sound,
+an oath or two--and then both telescope and Admiral disappeared, with
+a crash, from view.
+
+Miss Limpenny screamed, dropped her telescope, which went rattling
+down the steps, cowered desperately against the wall, shut her eyes,
+screamed again, trod on a tilting slab, hung for a moment, toppled,
+clutched wildly at space, and shot, with a rush and shower of stones,
+straight to the very bottom.
+
+Miss Lavinia Limpenny, who, startled by the screams, had rushed to
+the window and witnessed the last stages of the catastrophe, was out
+in a minute.  Tenderly raising her sobbing sister, she assisted her
+back to the house, and attended to the bruises with a combination of
+arnica, vinegar, and brown paper.  On the other side of the wall the
+Admiral lay for some time and bellowed for help, until his frightened
+family bore him in, and attempted to put him to bed.
+
+But mark the heroism of the truly great.  In spite of his late
+treatment at the hands of his fellow-citizens--treatment which still
+rankled--here was no Coriolanus to depart in a huff to Antium.
+The Admiral had a duty to perform, a service due to this ungrateful
+Town, and on the subject of going to bed he was adamant.
+
+"Cease, Emily.  Your tears, your protestations are in vain.
+Stop, I tell you!  Get me my uniform."
+
+Surely some desperate, some decisive step was contemplated when the
+Admiral ordered out that gold-laced coat and cocked hat that once had
+shone in the Blue Squadron of Her Majesty's Navy.  What could this
+stern magnificence portend?
+
+The Admiral had made up his mind.  He was going to interview Mrs.
+Snell, the charwoman.
+
+It was a pretty fancy, and one not without parallel in the history of
+famous men, that inspired him at his crisis to assume his bravest
+attire.  There is to my mind a flavour in the conceit--a bravado
+lifting the action above mere intrepidity into actual greatness.
+Nor in this little Iliad are there many figures that I regard with
+more affection than that of Admiral Buzza at his garden gate waiting
+for Mrs. Snell.
+
+When at length she issued from "The Bower" and came down the road,
+the effect of the gold lace was rather striking.  She dropped her
+bundle and her lower jaw together.
+
+"Lawks, sir! how you did frighten me, to be sure!  I thought it was
+the devil!"
+
+This was hardly what the Admiral had expected.  He beckoned with his
+forefinger mysteriously.  Mrs. Snell advanced as though not quite
+sure that her first fright was unfounded.
+
+"Mrs. Snell," inquired the Admiral, in a whisper, "what are they
+like?"  He pointed melodramatically towards "The Bower" as he asked
+the question.
+
+Again the unexpected happened.  Mrs. Snell burst into loud and
+hysterical sobbing.
+
+"Don't 'ee, sir! don't 'ee! I can't abear it.  Not a thing can you do
+to please 'em, an' the Honorubble Frederic a-dammin' about the 'ouse
+fit to make your flesh creep.  An' that though he might 'ave ate his
+dinner off the floor, gold studs an' all, as I told 'un at last.
+For 'twasn't in flesh and blood, sir--not to be ordered this way an'
+that by a whipper-snapper whose gran'mother I might 'a been, though
+he _'as_ got three rows o' shiny buttons on 'is stummick, which is no
+cause for a proud carriage toward them as 'asn't, nor callin' 'em
+slow-coaches and names which I won't soil my tongue wi'--an' so I
+said.  Aw dear! aw dear!"  And here Mrs. Snell's passion again found
+vent in violent sobs and cries.
+
+"Hush!  Confound it!  Hush! I tell you.  You'll have the whole town
+out."
+
+"I beg your pardon, sir--boo-hoo!--but it isn't in natur', sich
+wickedness in 'igh places, an' pore Maria sick at 'ome wi' the colic
+an' a leak in the roof you might put your cocked 'at through, an'
+very fine it looks, sir, beggin' your parding agen, which is all
+vexashun o' sperrit on a shillin' a day an' your vittles, let alone
+bein' swore at 'till you dunno whether you be 'pon your 'ed or your
+'eels."
+
+With this Mrs. Snell picked up her bundle and marched off down the
+road.  She was quite hopeless, the Admiral determined, as he watched
+her retreating figure and heard her sobs borne back to him on the
+evening air.  Well, well! it had been another reverse--but not a
+defeat.  His face cleared again as he turned to re-enter the house.
+
+"Let me see: to-morrow is Sunday.  They will probably be at church.
+In the afternoon, though it involve the loss of my usual nap, I will
+consider.  On Monday I will act."
+
+Even the strangers themselves, as they walked up the aisle of St.
+Symphorian's Church, Troy, on the following morning, could not but
+perceive something of importance to be in the wind.  That the church
+should be full was not unusual, for in those days Sunday Observance
+was the rule among Trojans.  But on this particular day the Wesleyan
+and Bible Christian chapels must have been sadly depleted, so great
+was the crush; and, besides, there was the unwonted magnificence of
+dress, the stir caused by the simultaneous turning of some hundred
+bonnets as the Goodwyn-Sandys entered, the audible whispering as they
+took their seats, the nervousness of the Vicar, who twice dropped his
+spectacles over the reading desk and once over the pulpit.  On this
+last occasion one of the glasses was broken, and the sermon in
+consequence became, towards the end, a trifle involved.  All this
+made the service rather hysterical.
+
+Tell me, my Muse, thou who sittest at the tea-table and rejoicest in
+the rattling of cups: Who were they that attended St. Symphorian's
+Church on this Sunday morning?  First, there were the Misses
+Limpenny, in black tabbinet dresses and lace shawls; a cameo brooch
+adorned the throat of each, and from her waist a reticule depended.
+These first directed the gold-bound optic glass at the strangers'
+pew.  Behind them sat the Doctor and his wife, the one conspicuous
+for his black stock, the other for a shawl of Paisley workmanship.
+Next, the Harbour-master, tall Mr. Stripp, with his daughters
+Tryphena and Tryphosa; nor would Mrs. Stripp have been absent had she
+not been buried some years before.  Yellow-haired were both the
+daughters, and few knew better the prevailing fashion in dress; these
+whispered concerning Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys' costume.  By them sat Mr.
+Moggridge, the poet, good at the responses, and Sam Buzza, his
+friend, whom few Trojans excelled in casting glances at the female
+congregation.  Then, most gorgeous and bravest of all, the Admiral:
+he wore again his gold-laced coat, but the cocked-hat rested
+underneath the seat, and none could fathom the import of his gaze.
+By him sat his three daughters, a-row, in straight-backed dresses of
+like cut and colour, and peeped over their prayer-books; and Mrs.
+Buzza, timorous, in bright green satin.  But of the throng of Trojan
+men and women, not though I had a hundred mouths, etc., etc.
+
+"Her dress must have cost nine shillings a yard if it cost a penny,"
+said Miss Limpenny when they were outside in the open air.
+She looked at the ground as she said so, for she could forget neither
+the Nightcap nor the Telescope.
+
+The Admiral was silent.
+
+"She is very lovely," remarked Mrs. Buzza, "and did you remark how
+the Vicar paused in the Litany when he came to 'all the Nobility'?"
+
+"I was particularly careful to pray for Lord Sinkport," said Calypso,
+innocently.
+
+Still the Admiral was silent.  That afternoon Mrs. Buzza, stealing
+softly into the back parlour lest she should disturb her lord, was
+amazed, in place of the usual recumbent form with a bandanna over its
+face, to find him sitting up, wide awake, and staring gloomily.
+
+"My dear--" she began in her confusion.
+
+The Admiral turned a Gorgon stare upon her, but made no answer.
+Under its petrifying influence she backed out without another word,
+to communicate with the girls upon the portent.
+
+This mood of the Admiral's lasted all day.  Next morning, at
+breakfast, he looked up from his bacon, and observed, with the air of
+a man whose mind is made up--
+
+"Emily, see that the girls have on their best gowns by eleven o'clock
+sharp.  I am going to pay a call."
+
+Consternation sat on every face.  Sam Buzza paused in the act of
+breaking an egg.
+
+"At 'The Bower'?" he asked.
+
+"At 'The Bower.'"
+
+Mrs. Buzza clasped her hands nervously.  The girls turned pale.
+
+"Oh, very well," said Sam, tapping his egg.  "I shouldn't wonder if I
+turned up while you were there."
+
+He was a light-haired, ungainly youth, of about twenty, with a
+reputation for singing a comic song.  It was understood that the
+Admiral designed him for College and Holy Orders, but meanwhile time
+was passing, and Sam sat "with idle hands at home," or more
+frequently, in the bar of the "Man-o'-War."
+
+"You!" exclaimed his father.
+
+"Well, I don't see what there is in that to be surprised about,"
+replied the youth, with an aggrieved air.  "I met the Honourable
+Frederic smoking a cigar out on the Rope-walk last night.  His cigars
+are very good; and he asked me to drop in soon and try another.
+He isn't a bit stuck-up."
+
+The Admiral's feelings were divided between annoyance at the easy
+success of his son, and elation at finding the stranger so
+unexpectedly affable.  He rose.
+
+"Girls, remember to be punctual.  I will show this town of Troy that
+I am not the man to be laughed at."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+
+OF A LADY THAT HAD A MUSICAL VOICE, BUT USED IT TO DECEIVE.
+
+Many of the advantages that wait upon the readers of this history
+are, I should hope, by this time obvious.  Among them must be
+reckoned the privilege of taking precedence of Admiral Buzza--of
+paying a visit to "The Bower" not only several minutes in advance of
+that great man, but moreover on terms of the utmost intimacy.
+
+Shortly before eleven on Monday morning the Honourable Frederic
+Augustus Hythe Goodwyn-Sandys was shaving contemplatively.  He was a
+tall, thin man, with light, closely cropped hair, a drooping
+moustache that hid his mouth, and a nose of the order aquiline, and
+species "chiselled."  For the present the lower half of his face was
+obscured with lather.  His dress--I put it thus in case Miss Limpenny
+should read these lines--was that usually worn by gentlemen under
+similar circumstances.
+
+Mr. Goodwyn-Sandys was just taking his first stroke with the razor,
+when the creaking of the garden gate caused him to glance out of
+window.  The effect of this was to make him cut his cheek; whereupon
+he both bled and swore simultaneously and profusely.
+
+On the gravel walk stood Admiral Buzza with his three daughters.
+
+Again the great man was in full dress.  Behind him in Indian file
+advanced Sophia, Jane, Calypso, each in a straight frock of vivid
+yellow surmounted by a straw hat of such enormous brim as to lend
+them a fearful likeness to three gigantic fungi.  As far as the hats
+allowed one to see from above, each wore sandal-shoes, and carried a
+small green parasol, neatly folded.
+
+At the sight of this regiment of visitors, Mr. Goodwyn-Sandys paused
+with razor in air and blood trickling down his chin.  The Admiral
+marched resolutely up the path and struck three distinct knocks upon
+the door.
+
+It was opened by the youth in buttons.
+
+The Admiral produced a sheaf of visiting cards and handed them to the
+page, as if inviting him to select one, note it carefully, and
+restore it to the pack.
+
+"Is the Honourable Frederic Goodwyn-Sandys or the Honourable Mrs.
+Goodwyn-Sandys at home?"
+
+Words cannot do justice to the Admiral's tone.
+
+The regiment was marched into the drawing-room, where Mrs.
+Goodwyn-Sandys rose to receive them.
+
+
+[Illustration: Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys rose to receive them.]
+
+
+She was undeniably beautiful; not young, but rather in that St.
+Martin's Summer when a woman learns for the first time the value of
+her charms.  Her hair was of a glossy black, her lips red and full,
+her figure and grey morning gown two miracles.  But on her eyes and
+voice you shall hear Mr. Moggridge, who subsequently wasted a deal of
+Her Majesty's time and his own paper upon this subject.  From a
+note-book of his, the early pages of which are constant to a certain
+Sophia, I select the following--
+
+"TO GRACIOSA, WALKING AND TALKING."
+
+     Whenas abroad, to greet the morn,
+        I mark my Graciosa walk,
+     In homage bends the whisp'ring corn;
+          Yet, to confess
+          Its awkwardness,
+     Must hang its head upon the stalk.
+
+     And when she talks, her lips do heal
+        The wound her lightest glances give.
+     In pity, then, be harsh and deal
+           Such wounds, that I
+           May hourly die
+     And, by a word revived, live!
+
+All this was very shocking of Mr. Moggridge; for Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys
+was not _his_ Graciosa at all.  But it was what we were fated to come
+to, in Troy.  And Graciosa's voice and smile were certainly
+inspiring.
+
+Let us return to "The Bower."  The Admiral having presented his
+daughters, and arranged them in line again, cleared his throat and
+began--
+
+"Though aware that, as judged by the standard of the best society,
+this visit may be condemned as premature, I have thought right to
+stifle such apprehensions in my anxiety to assure you of a welcome in
+Troy--I may say, an open-armed welcome."
+
+Here the Admiral actually spread his arms abroad.  His hostess
+retreated a step.
+
+"My daughters,--Calypso, I perceive an errant curl--my daughters,
+madam, will bear me out when I say that only excess of feeling
+prevents their mother from joining in this--may I call it so?--this
+ovation."
+
+(In point of fact, Mrs. Buzza had been judged too red in the eyes to
+accompany the Admiral.)
+
+"Ever since I beheld you and your husband--whom I do not see"
+(here the Admiral stared ferociously under a table), "but who, I
+trust, is in health--for the first time in church yesterday"--
+(Oh, Admiral Buzza!)--"I have been forcibly reminded of an expression
+in one of our British poets, which runs--Sophia, how the devil does
+it run?"
+
+Neither of the Misses Buzza had the faintest idea.  Their father's
+efforts to remember it were interrupted by Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys, who
+begged them, with a charming smile, to be seated.
+
+"My husband," she said, "will be down in a minute or two.  It is
+really most kind of you to call; for, as strangers, we are naturally
+anxious to hear about the place and its people."
+
+Her voice, which was low and musical, came with the prettiest trip
+upon the tongue.  There was just the faintest shade of brogue in it--
+for instance, she said "me husband"--but I cannot attempt to
+reproduce it.
+
+Upon this hinted desire for information, the Admiral bestowed his
+cocked-hat under the chair, and began--
+
+"Our small town, ma'am, may be viewed in many aspects--as an emporium
+of commerce, a holiday centre, or a health resort.  In our trade you
+would naturally, with your tastes, find little interest.  It is
+rather our scenic advantages, our romantic fortresses, our river
+(pronounced by many to equal the Rhine), our mild atmosphere--"
+
+"On the contrary, I take the greatest interest in your trade."
+
+The Admiral lifted his brows and smiled, as one who would imply
+"You are kind enough to say so, but really, with your high
+connections, that can hardly be seriously believed."  What he said
+was--
+
+"It is indeed good of you to interest yourself in our simple tastes.
+We are (I confess it) to some degree--ahem!--mercantile, and as
+citizens of Troy esteem it our duty to acquaint ourselves
+(theoretically) with the products of other lands.  To this end I have
+had all my daughters carefully grounded in the 'Child's Guide to
+Knowledge.'  Jane, my dear, what is Gamboge?"
+
+"A vegetable, gummy juice, of a most beautiful yellow colour, chiefly
+brought from Gambodia in the East Indies," repeated Jane, with a
+glance at her gown.
+
+"You see, ma'am," explained her father with a wave of the hand,
+"it is a form of instruction in which the rawness of the material is
+to some extent veiled by a clothing of picturesque accessories.
+This will be even more noticeable in the case of Soy.  Calypso,
+inform Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys of the humorous illusion under which our
+seamen labour with regard to Soy."
+
+But at this point the door opened, and Mr. Samuel Buzza entered, with
+Mr. Goodwyn-Sandys himself.
+
+The introductions were gone through; the Admiral let off another
+speech of welcome, and plunged with the Honourable Frederic into a
+long discussion of Troy, its scenery and neighbourhood; the three
+girls sat bolt upright, each on the edge of her chair; and their
+brother took his hostess' extended hand with a bashful grin.
+
+"Ah, Mr. Buzza, I am interested in you already--my husband has been
+telling me how he met you."
+
+"Proud to hear it," muttered Sam.
+
+"Oh, yes.  I hope we shall be great friends.  It is so kind of you
+all to call."
+
+Sam asked her not to mention it; and looked at his father, whose face
+was by this time purple with conversation.
+
+"I say, ain't the old boy enjoying himself, though!" he remarked in a
+sudden burst of confidence.  "What do you think of him?"
+
+Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys smiled sweetly, and replied that the Admiral was
+"so thorough."
+
+"Thorough old duffer, you mean.  Look at him.  What with his gold
+spangles and his talking to Mr. Goodwyn-Sandys, he's as proud as a
+cock on a wall."
+
+His hostess laughed.  "You are very frank," she said.
+
+"That's me all over," replied Sam, evidently pleased.  "You see, I
+ain't polite--not a ladies' man in any way."
+
+"There I am sure you do yourself injustice."
+
+"No, 'pon my word!  I never had any practice."
+
+"What, not among all the charming girls I saw in church yesterday?
+Oh, Mr. Buzza, you mustn't tell me _that_."  A look from the dark
+eyes accompanied this sentence.
+
+Now, very few young men of Sam's stamp greatly mind being considered
+gay Lotharios.  So that when he repeated that "'Pon his word he
+wasn't," he also turned his neck about in his collar for a second or
+so, smiled meaningly, and altogether looked rather pleased than not.
+
+"I'm afraid you are a very sad character, Mr. Buzza."
+
+"No, really now."
+
+"And are deceiving me horribly."
+
+"No, really; wouldn't think of it."
+
+"Sam!" broke in the Admiral's voice in tones of thunder.
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"How does Mr. Moggridge describe the 'Man-o'-War' Hotel?"
+
+"Says the beer's falling off, sir.  It _did_, once upon a time, taste
+of the barrel, but now he'll be hanged if it tastes of anything at
+all.  It ought--"
+
+"Don't be a fool, sir!  I mean in that poem of his from 'Ivy Leaves:
+or, Tendrils from Troy.'"
+
+"Beg pardon, sir, I'm sure.  Let me see--"
+
+Before he could recall it, Sophia finished the quotation, timidly.
+"I think, papa, I can remember it:--"
+
+                      'And thou,
+     Quaint hostel!  'neath whose mould'ring gable ends
+     In amber draught I slake my noonday thirst . . .'
+
+"Something like that, I think, papa."
+
+"Ah, to be sure: 'mould'ring gable ends,' a most accurate
+description.  It used to belong to--" and the Admiral plunged again
+into a flood of conversation.
+
+"You must bring this Mr. Moggridge and introduce him," said Mrs.
+Goodwyn-Sandys to Sam.  "He is a Collector of Customs, is he not?
+Do you think he would recite any of his verses to me?"
+
+"By the hour.  But I shouldn't advise you to ask him.  It's all about
+my sister."
+
+"Which?"
+
+"The eldest there--Sophy's her name--and don't judge from
+appearances; the family diet is not hardware."
+
+"Hush, sir! you must not be rude.  That reminds me that I ought to go
+and speak to them."
+
+"You won't get anything out of them.  If you want a subject, though,
+I'll give you the straight tip--lambs.  I've heard them talk about
+lambs by the hour.  Say they are nice and soft and woolly: that'll
+draw them out."
+
+"You are a great quiz, I perceive."
+
+"No, really, now, Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys."
+
+"But, really yes, Mr. Buzza.  I shall have to cure you, I see, before
+I can trust my husband in your company."
+
+She rose and left him to his flutter of pleased excitement.  Oh, Sam!
+Sam!  To fall from innocence was bad enough, but to fall thus easily!
+
+In a few moments and with charming tact, Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys had
+drawn the Misses Buzza into a lively conversation; had told Sophy of
+some new songs; and had even promised them all some hints on the very
+latest gowns, before Sam Buzza, weary of silence, called across the
+room--
+
+"I say, dad, what do you think is the news about the seedy-looking
+fellow you treated by mistake to all that speechifying?"
+
+The Admiral looked daggers, but Sam was imperturbable.
+
+"Ho, ho! I say, Mr. Goodwyn-Sandys, the governor took him for you,
+and welcomed him to Troy in his best style-flower in his buttonhole
+and all--'twas as good as a play.  Well, the fellow has taken Kit's
+House."
+
+"Kit's House!"
+
+"Yes, and lives there all alone, with Caleb Trotter for servant.
+I'd advise you to call, now that you've got your Sunday best on.
+I'm sure he'd like to thank you for that speech you made him."
+
+"Be quiet, sir!"
+
+"Oh, very well; only I thought I'd mention it.  I'm afraid I must be
+going, Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys."  Sam held out his hand.
+
+"Must you?  Good-bye, then," she said, "but remember, you have to
+come and be taught innocence."
+
+"Oh, I'll remember, never fear," answered Sam, and departed.
+
+The Admiral also rose.
+
+"I trust," he said, "that this may be the beginning of a pleasant
+intimacy.  My wife will be most happy to give you any information
+concerning our little town that I may have omitted.  By the way, how
+is Lord Sinkport?  I really forgot to ask.  Quite well?  I am so
+glad.  I was afraid the gout--Come, Sophy, my dear, we have
+trespassed long enough.  Good-morning!"
+
+He was gone.  Scarcely, however, could his host and hostess exchange
+glances before he reappeared.
+
+"Oh, Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys, that quotation--I have just remembered it.
+It was, 'Welcome, little strangers!'  The original, I believe, has
+the singular--'little stranger'--but the slight change makes it more
+appropriate.  'Welcome, little strangers!'  Good-morning!"
+
+O Troy, Troy!  Scarcely had the garden gate creaked again, when Mr.
+and Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys looked at each other for a moment, then sank
+into arm-chairs, and broke into peals of the most unaffected
+laughter.
+
+"Nellie, hand me a cigar.  This beats cock-fighting."
+
+"Whist, me dear!" answered the lady, relapsing into honest brogue,
+"but Brady is the bhoy to know the ropes."
+
+"I believe you, Nellie."
+
+Outside the garden gate the Admiral had fallen into a brown study.
+
+"I perceive," he said, at length, very thoughtfully, "that wine and
+biscuits have gone out of fashion, as concomitants of a morning call.
+In some ways I regret it; but they are evidently people of extreme
+refinement.  Sophy, how badly your gown sits."
+
+"Why, it was only yesterday, papa, that you praised it so!"
+
+"Did I?  H'm!  Well, well, now for the boat."
+
+"The boat, papa?"
+
+"Certainly, Sophy; we are going to call at Kit's House."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+
+HOW A CREW, THAT WOULD SAIL ON A WASHING-DAY, WAS SHIPWRECKED: WITH
+AN ADVERTISEMENT AGAINST WOMEN.
+
+It was a bright April morning, and the Admiral's boat, as it swept
+proudly past the little town, cast a wealth of bright reflection on
+the water.  Inhabitants of Troy, sitting at their windows, and
+overlooking the harbour, caught sight of the yellow dresses, the blue
+coat with its gold lace, and the red face beneath the cocked-hat, and
+whispered to each other that something was in the wind.
+
+Jane and Calypso rowed--for the Trojan maidens in those days were not
+above pulling an oar, and did not mind blisters--while Sophia sat in
+the bows, her mushroom hat "a world too wide" for the little green
+parasol hoisted above it.  The Admiral himself held the tiller ropes,
+and occasionally gave a word of command.  It was a gracious
+spectacle.
+
+But as the boat drew clear of the jetties with their press of
+vessels, and Kit's Cottage hove in sight, the Admiral's eyes, which
+were fixed ahead, grew suddenly very large and round.
+
+"This is very extraordinary!" he muttered, "very extraordinary
+indeed!"
+
+"What is it, papa?" and the three Misses Buzza simultaneously turned
+their mushroom hats to look.
+
+"I cannot tell, Sophia; but to me it appears as if these people
+were--not to put too fine a point upon it--washing."
+
+It was quite true.  On the little beach, Mr. Fogo, with his sleeves
+turned up and a large apron pinned around him, was standing before a
+huge tub, industriously washing.  The tub rested on a couple of
+stools.  A little to the left, Caleb Trotter, with his back turned to
+the river, was wringing the articles of male costume which his master
+handed him, and disposing them about the shingle to dry.
+
+
+[Illustration: Washing day.]
+
+
+The Admiral had chosen a washing-day for his first call at Kit's
+House.
+
+The approach of the boat was at first unperceived; for Caleb, as I
+said, had his back turned to it, and Mr. Fogo's spectacles were bent
+over his employment.
+
+"Really," murmured the Admiral, as his eye travelled over the beach,
+"anything more indelicate--Why, Miss Limpenny might be rowing this
+way for anything they know.  Hi, sir!"
+
+Still grasping the tiller-lines, the Admiral stood up on the stern
+seat and shouted.
+
+At the sound Mr. Fogo raised his spectacles and blandly stared
+through them at the strangers.  Caleb started, turned suddenly round,
+and came rushing down the beach, his right hand frantically waving
+them back, his left grasping a pair of--(Oh! Miss Limpenny!)
+
+"Hi! you must go back.  Go away, I tell 'ee!" he gesticulated.
+
+"What on--"
+
+"Go away; no females allowed here.  Off with 'ee this moment!"
+
+"Put down those --s, sir," yelled the Admiral.
+
+"Sarve 'ee right: no business to come: 'tes Bachelor's Hall, this,
+an' us don't want no womankind trapesin' here: so keep your distance.
+Go 'long!"  And Caleb began to wave again.
+
+"Sir," cried the Admiral, appealing to Mr. Fogo, "what is the meaning
+of this extraordinary reception?"
+
+"Eh?  What?" said that gentleman, who apparently had fallen into a
+fit of deep abstraction.  "I beg your pardon.  I did not quite
+catch--"
+
+"What is the meaning of all this, sir?"  The Admiral was scarlet with
+passion.
+
+"Oh, it's quite right, I believe--quite right.  Caleb will tell you."
+As he gave this astonishing answer in a far-away tone, Mr. Fogo's
+spectacles rested on his visitor for a moment with a smile of deepest
+benevolence.  Then, with a sigh, he resumed his washing.
+
+The Admiral positively danced with rage.
+
+"There, what did I tell 'ee?" exclaimed Caleb triumphantly.
+"That's your answer, and now you can go 'long home.  Off with 'ee!"
+
+The Admiral's reply would probably have contained some strong words.
+It was arrested by a catastrophe.
+
+During this altercation the tide had been rising, and carried the
+boat gently up towards the little beach.  As the Admiral opened his
+mouth to retort, the boat's nose jarred upon a sunken heap of
+pebbles.  The shock was slight, but enough to upset his equilibrium.
+Without any warning, the Admiral's heels shot upwards, and the great
+man himself, with a wild clutch at vacancy, soused backwards--
+cocked-hat and all--into the water.
+
+The three Misses Buzza with one accord clasped their hands and
+uttered dismal shrieks; the three mushroom hats shook with terror.
+Mr. Fogo looked up from his washing.
+
+"Papa! oh, save him--save our dear Papa!"
+
+There was no danger.  Presently a crimson face rose over the boat's
+stern, blowing like a grampus.  A pair of dripping epaulets followed;
+and then the Admiral stood up, knee-deep in water, and swore and spat
+alternately.
+
+How different from that glittering hero, at sight of whom, not an
+hour before, the Trojan dames at their lattices had stopped their
+needlework to whisper!  Down his nose and chin ran a pitiable flood;
+his scanty locks, before so wiry and obstinate, lay close against his
+ears; his gorgeous uniform, tarnished with slime, hung in folds, and
+from each fold poured a separate cascade; the whole man had become
+suddenly shrunken.
+
+Speechless with rage, the little man clambered over the stern and
+shook his fist at the wondering spectacles of Mr. Fogo.
+
+"You shall repent this, sir!  You shall--Jane, push the boat off at
+once!"
+
+But even the dignity of a fine exit was denied the Admiral.  The boat
+was by this time firmly aground, and he was forced to stand, forming
+large pools upon the stern-board, while the grinning Caleb pushed her
+off.  And still Mr. Fogo looked mildly on, with his hands in the
+wash-tub.
+
+"Do you hear me, sir?  You shall repent this!" raved the Admiral.
+
+"Now, don't 'ee go upsettin' yourself again, 'cos wance es enough.
+An' 't'ain't no good to be vexed wi' Maaster, 'cos he don't mind 'ee.
+'Tes like Smoothey's weddin'--all o' one side.  Next time, I hopes
+you'll listen when you'm spoken to."
+
+And with a chuckle, Caleb sent the boat spinning into deep water.
+Scarce daring to look at their father, the Misses Buzza plunged their
+oars into the brine, and the Admiral, still shaking his fist, was
+borne slowly out of sight.  At last even his language failed upon the
+breeze.
+
+Caleb quietly returned to his work.
+
+"Thicky Adm'ral," he observed, contemplatively, after a silence of a
+minute or so, "puts me in mind o' Humphrey Hambly's ducks, as is said
+to look larger than they be."
+
+He paused in the act of wringing a shirt, to look at Mr. Fogo.
+
+The next instant the shirt was lying on the shingle, and Caleb had
+sprung upon his master, taken him by the shoulders, and was shaking
+him with might and main.
+
+"Come, wake up!  Do 'ee hear?  What be glazin' at?"
+
+"Eh? Dear me!" stammered Mr. Fogo, as well as he might for the
+shaking.  "What's all this?"
+
+"Axin' your pardon, sir," explained Caleb, continuing the
+treatment, "but 'tes all for your good, like ringin' a pig.
+You'm a-woolgatherin'; wake up!"
+
+Mr. Fogo came to himself, and sat down upon a log of timber to
+rearrange his thoughts and his spectacles.  Caleb stood over him and
+sternly watched his recovery.
+
+"You are quite right, Caleb: my thoughts were wandering.
+Your treatment is a trifle rough, but honest.  Are those
+extraordinary people gone?"
+
+"Iss, sir; here they were, but gone--like Jemmy Rule's larks."
+
+"I beg your pardon?"
+
+"Figger o' speech, sir.  They be gone right enough--Adm'ral Buzza in
+full fig, and a row o' darters in jallishy buff.  I sent 'em 'bout
+their bus'ness.  Look 'ee here, sir: ef you'll promise to sit quiet
+and keep your wits at home, I'll run down to town for a happord o'
+tar."
+
+"Tar, Caleb?"
+
+"Iss, sir, tar!" and with this Caleb turned on his heel and strode
+away across the shingle.  In a moment or two he had untied his boat
+from the little quay, and was pulling down towards Troy Town.
+
+When he returned, it was with a huge board, a pot of tar, and a
+brush.  He looked anxiously about the beach, but Mr. Fogo was nowhere
+to be seen.  "Drownded hissel'," was Caleb's first thought, but his
+ear caught the sound of hammering up at the house.  He walked indoors
+to see that all was right.
+
+"How be feelin'?" he asked, putting his head in at the dining-room
+door.
+
+Mr. Fogo laid down the mallet with which he had been nailing a loose
+plank in the flooring, and looked up.
+
+"All right, Caleb, thank you."
+
+"I was afear'd you might be none compass agen."
+
+"What?"
+
+"None compass--Greek for 'mazed.' Good-bye for the present, sir."
+
+Caleb borrowed a hammer, a nail or two, and a spade, and descended
+again to the beach.  Here he chose a spot carefully, and began to dig
+a large hole in the shingle.  This finished, he turned to the board,
+and spent some time with the brush in his hand and his head on one
+side, thinking.  Then he began to paint vigorously.
+
+Half-an-hour later, a tall post with a board on top stood on the
+beach at Kit's House.  On the board, in letters six inches long, was
+tarred the following inscription:--
+
+                         TAKE NOTICE.
+
+                         ALL WIMMEN
+                   FOUND TRAPESING ON THIS
+                     BEECH WILL BE DEALT
+                       WITH ACCORDING
+                        TO THE LAW.
+
+Above this notice jauntily rested the Admiral's cocked-hat, which had
+drifted ashore further up on the shingle--an awful witness to the
+earnestness of the threat and the vanity of human greatness.
+
+Caleb stood in front of his handiwork and gazed at it with honest
+pride for some minutes; then went into the house to fetch Mr. Fogo
+forth to look.  He was absent for some minutes.  When he returned
+with his master, their eyes were greeted with a curious sight.
+
+On the spit of shingle, and staring open-mouthed at the notice, stood
+the Twins, their honest faces expressing the extreme of perplexity.
+A few yards off the shore, in their boat, waited Tamsin, and leant
+quietly on her paddles.
+
+
+[Illustration: Staring open-mouthed at the notice.]
+
+
+At the sight of her, Caleb's face fell a full inch; but he led his
+master down and planted him resolutely in front of the board.
+Mr. Fogo stared helplessly from it to the Twins.
+
+"Mornin', sir," said Peter, after a long pause.  His face wore a
+deepened colour, and he smiled awkwardly.
+
+"Good-morning," replied Mr. Fogo.
+
+"A fine mornin'," repeated Peter, with a long gaze at the board, "an'
+no mistake."
+
+There was another long interval, during which everybody stared hard
+at the Notice.
+
+"'Tes a powerful fine mornin'," Peter re-asserted very slowly, "ef so
+be as your station in life es in noways connected with turmuts.
+Ef 'tes the less us says about the mornin' the better."  With this
+observation Peter looked hard at Mr. Fogo, as if the ball of
+conversation now lay in that gentleman's hands.
+
+"What do 'ee think o' this 'ere Notice?" broke in Caleb.
+
+Paul twitched his yellow bandanna and smiled evasively.
+
+"'Tes very pretty writin', sir, sure-ly," he replied, addressing Mr.
+Fogo.  "Nice thick down-strokes, an' all as it shou'd be."
+
+"Uncommon fash'nubble et makes the beach look, sir, a'ready," added
+Peter.
+
+Some mental reservation seemed to lurk behind this criticism.
+Mr. Fogo looked dubiously from the Twins to Caleb, who stood with his
+eyes fixed on his handiwork.
+
+"Axin' your pard'n, sir, an' makin' so free as to mention et," began
+Peter at length, pulling off his hat and twirling the brim between
+his fingers, "but us was a bit taken aback, not understandin' as
+fash'nubbleness was to begin so smart; or us wou'dn't have
+introoded--spesh'ly Tamsin.  Tamsin was thinkin' this mornin' as a
+pound of fresh butter might be acceptable to the gentl'm'n down at
+Kit's House, wi' ha'f a dozen fresh eggs or so, 'cos her Minorcy hen
+began to lay agen last week, an' the spickaty Hamburg as allays lays
+double yolks; an' Paul an' me agreed you wudn' be above acceptin' a
+little present o' this natur', not seemin' proud, an' Tamsin shou'd
+bring et hersel', the eggs bein' hers in a manner o' speakin'.
+But us was not wishful to introod, sir, an' iver since us seed the
+board here, her's been keepin' her distance in the boat yonder; on'y
+us stepped ashore to larn ef there was anything us cou'd do to make
+things ship-shape an' fitty for 'ee."
+
+At the end of this long address, Peter, whose mahogany face was
+several shades deeper, pulled up, and resumed his hat.
+
+"Ship-shape an' fitty--not wishful for to introod.  That's so,
+Peter," echoed his brother.
+
+Mr. Fogo looked at the pair helplessly, and again at Caleb, whose
+eyes were obstinately averted.
+
+"Caleb!"
+
+"Sir."
+
+"Ask Miss Dearlove if she would mind stepping ashore."
+
+With a sudden brightening of face, Caleb called her name.
+Tamsin looked up.
+
+"Ef 'ee please, you'm to come ashore, to wance!"
+
+The girl rowed a couple of strokes, grounded the boat, and stepped
+lightly ashore with a big basket and an unembarrassed glance at the
+Notice.
+
+"There's a few young potatoes at the bottom," she said, with a
+curtsey, as she handed her gift to Mr. Fogo.  "They're the earliest
+and best anywhere in these parts.  Can you cook potatoes?" she asked,
+suddenly turning to Caleb.  Beneath her sun-bonnet her pretty cheek
+was flushed, and her chin thrust forward with just a shadow of
+defiance.
+
+"Iss, to be sure," grinned Caleb.  "Why, us does our own washin'."
+
+Tamsin's eyes travelled without bashfulness over the array upon the
+beach.
+
+"Pretty washing, I expect!" She walked up and took some of the
+clothes into her hand.  "Look here--not half-wrung--and some fallen
+in the mud and dirtied worse than ever."
+
+With fine contempt she moved among the clothes, wrung them, spread
+them out again, and even returned with some to the wash-tub.
+Like four whipped schoolboys the males looked on as she tucked up the
+sleeves of her neat print gown.
+
+"Soap, too, left to float in the wash-tub, and--salt water I declare!
+Caleb, empty this and get some soft water from the old butt by the
+back door.  Oh, you poor, helpless baby!"
+
+Mr. Fogo, though the words were not spoken to him, winced and turned
+to stare abstractedly at the river.
+
+
+
+"Sir," said Caleb from his hammock that night, "cudn' 'ee put in a
+coddysel?"
+
+"A codicil?"
+
+"Iss, just to say, 'No wimmen allowed but Tamsin Dearlove--us don't
+mind she.'  Wudn' that do, sir?"
+
+"I'm afraid not, Caleb.  By-the-bye, how does your Notice run?
+'All women found trespassing will be--'"
+
+"Dealt wi' 'cordin' to the law, sir."
+
+"Dear me, Caleb!" murmured Mr. Fogo, "but I trust that under no
+circumstances should I deal with a woman otherwise than according to
+the law."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+
+OF A TOWN THAT WOULD LAUGH AT THE GREAT.  AND HOW A DULL COMPANY WAS
+CURED BY AN IRISH SONG.
+
+We left the Misses Buzza engaged in rowing their papa homewards.
+The Three Queens as they steered King Arthur to Avilion can have been
+no sadder pageant.  It is true the Misses Buzza grieved for no
+Excalibur, but the Admiral had lost his cocked-hat.
+
+Picture to yourself that procession: the journey past the jetties;
+the faces that grinned down from overhanging hulls, or looked out
+hurriedly at casements and grew pale; the blue-jerseyed Trojan
+lounging on the quay, and pausing in his whistle to stare; the Trojan
+maidens gazing, with arrested needle; the shipwrights dropping mallet
+and tar-pot; the ferrymen resting on their oars; the makers of ship's
+biscuit rushing out, with aprons flying, to see the sight; the
+butcher, the baker, the candle-stick maker--each and all agog.
+Then imagine the Olympian mirth that ran along the waterside when
+Troy saw the joke, and, hand on hip, laughed with all its lungs.
+
+But even this was not the worst: no, nor the crowd of urchins
+that followed from the landing-stage and cheered at intervals.
+It was when Admiral Buzza looked up and spied the face of Mrs.
+Goodwyn-Sandys at an upper window of "The Bower," that the cup of
+his humiliation indeed brimmed over.
+
+Mrs. Buzza, "tittivating" at the mirror, heard the stir, and,
+presentient of evil, rushed down-stairs.  She saw her lord restored
+to her, dear but damp.  Yet she "nor swooned, nor uttered cry:" she
+simply sat violently and suddenly down upon the hall-chair, and
+piteously stared.
+
+"Emily, get up!"
+
+She did so.
+
+"You are wet, my love," she ventured timorously.
+
+"_Wet!_  Woman, is this the time for airy _persiflage?_"
+
+"My love," replied Mrs. Buzza, meekly, "nothing was further from my
+thoughts."
+
+The Admiral glared upon her for a moment, but the retort died upon
+his lips.  He flung his hands out with an appealing gesture and
+something like a sob.
+
+"Emily," he cried, hoarsely, "Troy has laughed at me again.  Put me
+to bed."
+
+O forgiving heart of woman!  In a moment her arms were about him, and
+her tears mingling with the general dampness of the Admiral's
+costume.  Then, having wept her fill, she smiled a little, dried her
+eyes, and put the Admiral to bed.
+
+Out of doors Troy still laughed at the mishap.  The whole story was
+soon related (with infinite humour) by the unfilial Sam.  Down at the
+"Man-o'-War," in the bar-parlour, for seven days it formed the sole
+topic of discussion; and Mr. Moggridge (who ought to have respected
+Sophia's father) even wrote a humorous ode upon the theme,
+beginning--
+
+     "Ye gods and little fishes . . ."
+
+and full of the quaintest conceits.  For seven days, from dawn to
+nightfall, the river off Kit's House was crowded with boat-loads of
+curious gazers, and the Steam-Tug Company (Limited) neglected its
+serious business to run special excursions to the scene of the
+catastrophe.
+
+The Trojan maidens especially would stare at the Notice by the
+half-hour (that being the time allowed by the Steam-Tug Company), and
+hope, with much blushing and giggling, to catch a glimpse of Mr.
+Fogo.  But the hermit remained steadily indoors.
+
+Meanwhile the Admiral sulked in bed, and nursed his ill-humour.
+On Tuesday he was strangely softened and quiet; but:--
+
+On Wednesday he recovered, and began to bully his wife as fiercely as
+ever.
+
+On Thursday he broke the bell-rope again, and the servant gave
+warning.
+
+On Friday he threatened to make his will, and refused his food.
+
+On Saturday he was still fasting.
+
+On Sunday he ate voraciously, drank four glasses of grog, and threw
+the wash-hand basin out of window.
+
+On Monday Mrs. Buzza revolted, and took herself off, with the girls,
+to Miss Limpenny's party.
+
+Yes.  Miss Limpenny had mustered courage to put on her best brooch
+and call at "The Bower" with Lavinia.  Nor did her daring end here;
+it took the form of a little three-cornered note on that very
+evening, and on the next morning Mr. and Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys
+accepted.
+
+"Have great pleasure in accepting," read Miss Limpenny to her sister.
+"The very words.  I'm sure it's most affable."
+
+"We must have cheesecakes--the famous cheesecakes--of course,"
+reflected Miss Lavinia, "and a dish of trifle, and jellies, and--oh,
+Priscilla!"
+
+"What, Lavinia?"
+
+"Do you think a Tipsy Cake would be unbecoming?"
+
+Miss Limpenny knit her brows over this bold proposal.
+
+"I disapprove of the name," she said.  "It has always seemed to me a
+trifle--ahem!--'fast,' if I may call it so.  Still, we need not
+mention its name at supper, and the taste is undeniably grateful.
+But, Lavinia, I was thinking of a more important matter.  Who are to
+be asked?"
+
+"Why not everybody, Priscilla dear?"
+
+"The Simpsons, for instance?  It is true his father was a respectable
+solicitor, and even Mayor of Devonport I have heard, but Mr.
+Simpson's taste in _badinage_ is such as I cannot always approve.
+It is very well in Troy here, where everybody knows them, but the
+Goodwyn-Sandys are certain to be most particular, and, Lavinia, that
+crimson gown of hers!"
+
+"It _is_ bright," assented Miss Lavinia.
+
+"And the Saunders!  What a pity the girls cannot be invited without
+the boys."
+
+"The boys have always come before, Priscilla."
+
+Miss Limpenny groaned.  "To meet an Honourable, Lavinia!"
+
+The leaven was working.
+
+However, on the following Monday everybody was assembled in the
+little drawing-room.  The Vicar was there in evening dress; the
+doctor and his wife; Mr. Simpson and Mrs. Simpson in the crimson
+gown; the Saunders boys in carpet slippers (at sight of which Miss
+Limpenny went hot and cold by turns); the Misses Buzza in
+book-muslin, with ultramarine sashes and bronze shoes laced
+sandal-wise; their mother in green satin and deadly terror lest the
+Admiral's voice should penetrate the party-wall.  Mr. Moggridge was
+frowning gloomily in a corner at some humorous story of Sam Buzza's
+telling.  In short, with the exception of their Admiral, all Trojan
+society had gathered to do honour to the new-comers.
+
+Miss Limpenny, nervously toying with her best brooch, rose in a
+flutter as the door opened and admitted them.
+
+"So afraid we are late! but the clocks at 'The Bower' have not yet
+recovered from their journey."
+
+Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys gazed calmly about her.  There was a rustle
+throughout the room; two pink spots appeared on Miss Limpenny's
+cheeks; she stumbled in her words of welcome.  The Vicar frowned and
+looked puzzled.
+
+Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys wore a low-necked gown!
+
+It was a shock; but it passed.  She was wonderfully pretty, all
+admitted, in her gown of a rich amber satin draped with delicate
+folds of black lace; around her white throat a diamond necklace
+glistened.  How well I can remember her as she stood there toying
+with a button of her glove!  And how mean and dowdy we all looked
+beside this glittering vision!
+
+The Honourable Frederic Augustus Hythe Goodwyn-Sandys meanwhile
+stared at us all calmly but firmly through his eye-glass.  I saw
+young Horatio Saunders meet that gaze and sink into his carpet
+slippers.  I saw Mr. Moggridge frown terribly, and cross his arms.
+Sam Buzza came forward--
+
+"Ah, how d'ye do?  How d'ye do, Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys?  Looking round
+for the governor?  He's been in bed for a week."
+
+I think we all envied Samuel Buzza at this moment.
+
+"Ah, nothing serious, I hope?" drawled Mr. Goodwyn-Sandys.
+
+"Serious, ha, ha!  Haven't you heard--"
+
+"Sam, dear!" expostulated Mrs. Buzza.
+
+"All right, mother.  He can't hear," and Sam plunged into the story.
+
+The ice was broken.  In a few moments a whist party was made up to
+include the Honourable Frederic, and Miss Limpenny breathed more
+freely.  Mr. Moggridge was led up by Sam, and introduced.
+
+"Ah, indeed! Mr. Moggridge, I have been so longing to know you."
+
+Sam looked a trifle vexed.  The poet simpered that he was happy.
+
+"Of course I have been reading 'Ivy Leaves.'  So mournful I thought
+them, yet somehow so attractive.  How _did_ you write it all?"
+
+Mr. Moggridge confessed amiably that he "didn't quite know."
+
+"Let me see; those lines beginning--"
+
+     'O give me wings to--to--'
+
+"I forget for the moment how it goes on."
+
+"'To fly away,'" suggested the bard.
+
+"Ah, exactly; 'to fly away.' So simple--just what one _would_ wish
+wings for, you know.  It struck me very much when I read it.
+When did you think of it, Mr. Moggridge?"
+
+The poet blushed and began to look uncomfortable.
+
+"Ah! you are reticent.  Excuse me; I ought not to probe a poet's
+soul.  Still, I should like to be able to tell my friends--"
+
+"The--the fact is," stammered Mr. Moggridge, "I--I thought of them--
+in--my bath."
+
+Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys leaned back and laughed--a pretty rippling laugh
+that shook the diamonds upon her throat.  Sam guffawed, and by this
+action sprang that little rift between the friends that widened
+before long into a gulf.
+
+"I shall ask you to copy them into my Album.  I always victimise a
+lion when I meet one."
+
+This was said with a glance full of compensation.  Mr. Moggridge
+tried to look very leonine indeed.  Across the room another pair of
+eyes gently reproached him.  Never before had he tarried so long from
+Sophia's side.  Poor little heart! beating so painfully beneath your
+dowdy muslin bodice.  It was early yet for you to ache.
+
+"Oh, ah, Dick Cheddar--knew him well," came in the sonorous tones of
+the Honourable Frederic from the whist-table.  "So you were at
+College with him--first cousin to Lord Stilton--get the title if he
+only outlives the old man--good fellow, Dick--but drinks."
+
+"Dear me," said the Vicar; "I am sorry to hear that.  He was wild at
+Christchurch, but nothing out of the way.  Why, I remember at the
+Aylesbury Grinds--"
+
+Miss Limpenny, who did not know an Aylesbury Grind from a Bampton
+Lecture, yet detected an unfamiliar ring in the Vicar's voice.
+
+"He fought a welsher," pursued the Vicar, "just before riding in a
+race.  'Rollingstone,' his horse was, and Cheddar's eyes closed
+before the second fence.  'Tom,' he called to me--I was on a mare
+called Barmaid--"
+
+I ask you to guess the amazement that fell among us.  He--our Vicar--
+riding a mare called Barmaid!  Miss Limpenny cast her eyes up to meet
+the descent of the thunderbolt.
+
+"Lord Ballarat was riding too," the Vicar went on, "and young Tom
+Beauchamp, son of the Bishop--"
+
+"Died of D.T. out at Malta with the Ninety-ninth," interpolated the
+Honourable Frederic.
+
+"So I heard, poor fellow.  Three-bottle Beauchamp we called him.
+I've put him to bed many a time when--"
+
+It was too much.
+
+"In the Great Exhibition of 1851," began Miss Priscilla severely.
+
+But at this moment a dreadful rumbling shook the room.  The
+chandeliers rattled, the egg-shell china danced upon the what-not,
+and a jarring sensation suddenly ran up the spine of every person in
+the company.
+
+"It's an earthquake!" shouted the Honourable Frederic, starting up
+with an oath.
+
+Miss Limpenny thought an earthquake nothing less than might be
+expected after such language.  Louder and still louder grew the
+rumbling, until the very walls shook.  Everybody turned to a ghastly
+white.  The Vicar's face bore eloquent witness to the reproach of his
+conscience.
+
+"I think it must be thunder," he gasped.
+
+"Or a landslip," suggested Sam Buzza.
+
+"Or a paroxysm of Nature," said Mr. Moggridge (though nobody knew
+what he meant).
+
+"Or the end of the world," hazarded Mr. Goodwyn-Sandys.
+
+"I beg your pardon," interposed Mrs. Buzza timidly, "but I think it
+may be my husband."
+
+"Is your husband a volcano, madam?" snapped Mr. Goodwyn-Sandys,
+rather sharply.
+
+Mrs. Buzza might have answered "Yes," with some colour of truth; but
+she merely said, "I think it must be his double-bass.  My husband is
+apt in hours of depression to seek the consolation of that
+instrument."
+
+"But, my dear madam, what is the tune?"
+
+"I think," she faltered, "I am not sure, but I rather think, it is
+the 'Dead March' in _Saul_."
+
+There was no doubt of it.  The notes by this time vibrated piteously
+through the party-wall, and with their awful solemnity triumphed over
+all conversation.  Tones became hushed, as though in the presence of
+death; and the Vicar, in his desperate attempts to talk, found his
+voice chained without mercy to the slow foot of the dirge.  He tried
+to laugh.
+
+"Really, this is too absurd--ha! ha! _Tum-tum-tibby-tum_."  The
+effort ended in ghastly failure.  _Thrum-thrum-tiddy-thrum_ went the
+Admiral's instrument.
+
+Miss Limpenny grew desperate.  "Sophia," she pleaded, "pray sing us
+one of your cheerful ballads."
+
+Sophia looked at Mr. Moggridge.  He had always turned over the pages
+for her so devotedly.  Surely he would make some sign now.  Alas! all
+his eyes were for Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys.
+
+"I will try," she assented with something dangerously like a sob.
+
+She stepped to the "Collard" at a pace remorselessly timed to the
+"Dead March," and chose her ballad--a trifle of Mr. Moggridge's
+composition.  It would reproach him more sharply than words, she
+thought.  A cloud of angry tears blurred her sight as she struck the
+tinkling prelude.
+
+     "A month ago Lysander prayed To Jove,
+      to Cupid, and to Venus--"
+
+_Thrum-thrum-thrum_ went the double bass next door.  Mr. Moggridge
+looked up.  How thin and reedy Sophia's voice sounded to-night!
+He had never thought so before.
+
+     "That he might die, if he betrayed
+      A single vow that passed between us."
+
+"Sweetly touching!" murmured Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys.
+
+Sophia pursued--
+
+     "O careless gods, to hear so ill,
+         And cheat the maid on you relying;
+      For false Lysander's thriving still,
+         And 'tis Corinna lies a-dying."
+
+"Is that all?" asked Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys as Sophia with flushed
+cheeks left the piano.
+
+"That is all--a little effort not worth--"
+
+"Oh, it is yours!  But," with a sweet smile, "I ought to have
+guessed.  You must write a song for me one of these days."
+
+"Do you sing?" cried the delighted Mr. Moggridge.
+
+Sam, who had been waiting for a chance to speak, shouted across the
+room--"I say, Miss Limpenny, Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys will sing if you ask
+her."
+
+After very little solicitation, and with none of the coyness common
+to amateurs, she seated herself at the instrument, quietly pulled off
+her gloves, and dashed without more ado into a rollicking Irish
+ditty.
+
+    "Be aisy an' list to a chune
+     That's sung uv bowld Tim, the dragoon;
+        Sure, 'twas he'd niver miss
+        To be stalin' a kiss--
+     Or a brace--by the light uv the moon,
+                       Aroon,
+     Wid a wink at the man in the moon!"
+
+"Really!" murmured Miss Limpenny.  The keys of the decorous "Collard"
+clashed as they had never clashed before.  The guests, at first
+shocked and startled, began to be carried away with the reckless
+swing of the music.  The Vicar stared for a moment, and then began
+gradually to nod his head to the measure.
+
+"You must sing the last line in chorus, please," said Mrs.
+Goodwyn-Sandys from the piano--
+
+    "Wid a wink at the man in the moon!"
+
+It was sung timidly at first.  Nothing daunted, the performer plunged
+into the next verse--
+
+    "Rest his sowl in the arms uv owld Nick!
+     For he's gone from the land uv the quick:
+        But he's still makin' luv
+        To the leddies above,
+     An' be jabbers! he'll tache 'em the thrick,
+                       Avick,
+     Niver fear but he'll tache 'em the thrick!"
+
+There was no doubt this time.  By the spirit of her mad singing, by
+some demon that rode upon her full and liquid voice, the whole
+company seemed possessed.  Miss Limpenny looked furtively towards the
+Vicar.  He was actually joining in the chorus!  And what a chorus!
+She put her mittened palms to her ears, such a shout it was that went
+up.
+
+    "'Tis by Tim the dear saints'll set sthore,
+      And 'ull thrate him to whiskey galore;
+         For they've only to sip
+         But the tip uv his lip,
+      An' bedad!  they'll be askin' for more,
+                       Asthore,
+      By the powers! they'll be shoutin' 'Ancore'!"
+
+It was no longer an assembly of dull and decent citizens: it was a
+room full of lunatics yelling the burden of this frantic Irish song.
+Laughingly, Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys rested her finger on the keys and
+looked around.  These stolid Trojans had caught fire.  There was the
+little Doctor purple all above his stock; there was the Vicar with
+inflated cheeks and a hag-ridden stare; there was Mr. Moggridge
+snapping his fingers and almost capering; there was Miss Limpenny
+with her under-jaw dropped and her eyes agape.  They were charmed,
+bewitched, crazy.
+
+Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys saw this, and broke into a silvery laugh.
+The infection spread.  In an instant the whole room burst into a
+peal, a roar.  They laughed until the tears ran down their cheeks;
+they held their sides and laughed again.  She had them at her will.
+
+There was no more wonder after this.  At supper the talk was furious
+and incessant; Miss Lavinia spoke of a "tipsy-cake," and never
+blushed; the Vicar took wine with everybody, and told more stories of
+Three-bottle Beauchamp; even Sophia laughed with the rest, although
+her heart was aching--for still her poet neglected her and hung with
+her brother on the lips of Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys.  I saw him bring the
+poor girl's cloak in the hall afterwards and receive the most piteous
+of glances.  I doubt if he noticed it.
+
+Outside, the Admiral's double-bass was still droning the "Dead March"
+to Miss Limpenny's laurestinus grove.  It was the requiem of our
+decorum.  Long after I was in bed that night I heard the voice of Mr.
+Moggridge trolling down the street--
+
+    "An' be jabbers! he'll tache 'em the thrick!"
+
+Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys had "taught us the trick," indeed.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X.
+
+
+OF ONE EXCURSION AND MANY ALARUMS.
+
+"Caleb!"  said Mr. Fogo on the morning after Miss Limpenny's party.
+
+"Aye, aye, sir!"  Caleb paused in his carpentering to look up.
+
+"It is a lovely morning; I think I will take my easel and go for a
+walk.  You are sure that the crowds have gone at last?"
+
+"All gone, sir.  Paice and quiet at last--as Bill said when he was
+left a widow.  Do 'ee want me to go 'long wi' 'ee, sir?"
+
+"No, thank you, Caleb.  I shall go along the hills on this side of
+the river."
+
+"You'd best let me come, sir, or you'll be wool-gatherin' and
+wand'rin' about till goodness knows what time o' night."
+
+"I shall be back by four o'clock."
+
+"Stop a minnit, sir; I have et.  I'll jest put that alarmin' clock o'
+yourn in your tail-pocket an' set et to ha'f-arter-dree, an' that'll
+put you in mind when 'tes time to come hom'.  'Tes a wonnerful
+in-jine, this 'ere clock," reflected Caleb as he carefully set the
+alarum, "an' chuck-full o' sense, like Malachi's cheeld.  Lor',
+what a thing es Science, as Jenifer said when her seed the
+tellygrarf-clerk in platey buttons an' red facin's to his breeches.
+Up the path, sir, an' keep to the left.  Good-bye, sir!  Now, I'd gie
+summat," soliloquised Caleb as he watched his master ascend the hill,
+"to be sure of seein' him back safe an' sound afore nightfall.
+Aw dear! 'tes a terrable 'sponsible post, bein' teetotum to a babby!"
+
+With this he walked back to the house, but more than once halted on
+his way to ponder and shake his head ominously.
+
+Mr. Fogo meanwhile, with easel and umbrella on his arm, climbed the
+hill slowly and with frequent pauses to turn and admire the
+landscape.  It was the freshest of spring mornings: the short turf
+was beaded with dew, the furze-bushes on either hand festooned with
+gossamer and strung with mimic diamonds.  As he looked harbourwards,
+the radiance of sky mingling with the glitter of water dazzled and
+bewildered his sight: below, and at the foot of the steep woods
+opposite, the river lay cool and shadowy, or vanished for a space
+beneath a cliff, where the red plough-land broke abruptly away with
+no more warning than a crazy hurdle.  Distinct above the dreamy hum
+of the little town, the ear caught the rattle of anchor-chains, the
+cries of an outward-bound crew at the windlass, the clanking of
+trucks beside the jetties; the creaking of oars in the thole-pins of
+a tiny boat below ascended musically; the very air was quick with all
+sounds and suggestions of spring, and of man going forth to his
+labour; the youthfulness of the morning ran in Mr. Fogo's veins, and
+lent a buoyancy to his step.
+
+By this time the town was lost to view; next, the bend of Kit's House
+vanished, and now the broad flood spread in a silver lake full ahead.
+On the ridge the pure air was simply intoxicating after the languor
+of the valley.  Mr. Fogo began to skip, to snap his fingers, to tilt
+at the gossamer with his umbrella, and once even halted to laugh
+hilariously at nothing.  An old horse grazing on an isolated patch of
+turf looked up in mild surprise; Mr. Fogo blushed behind his
+spectacles and hurried on.
+
+He had gone some distance when a granite roller lying on the ploughed
+slope beneath a clump of bushes invited him to rest.  Mr. Fogo
+accepted the invitation, and seated himself to contemplate the scene.
+The bush at his back was comfortable, and by degrees the bright
+intoxication of his senses settled to a drowsy content.  He pulled
+out his pipe and lit it.  Through the curls of blue smoke he watched
+the glitter on the water below, the prismatic dazzle of the clods
+where their glossy surface caught the sun, the lazy flap-flap of a
+heron crossing the valley, and he heard along the uplands the voice
+(sweetest of rural sounds, and, alas! now obsolete) of a farm-boy
+chanting to his team, "Brisk and Speedwell, Goodluck and Lively"--and
+so sank by degrees into a soothing sleep.
+
+When he awoke and looked lazily upwards, at first his eyes
+encountered gloom.  "Have I been sleeping all day?" was his first
+thought, not without alarm.  But under the darkness a bright ray was
+stealing.  Mr. Fogo put up his hand and encountered his umbrella,
+carefully spread over his face for shade.
+
+This was mysterious; he could swear the umbrella was folded and lying
+at his side when he dropped asleep.  "It must be Caleb," he thought,
+and stared around.  No Caleb was in sight, but he noticed that the
+sun was dropping towards the west, and noticed also, not fifty yards
+to the left, and quietly cropping a tuft of bushes, a red bull.
+
+Now Mr. Fogo had an extreme horror of bulls, especially red bulls,
+and this one was not merely red, but looked savage, to boot.
+Mr. Fogo peered again round the corner of his umbrella.  The brute
+luckily had not spied him, but neither did it seem in any hurry to
+move.  For twenty minutes Mr. Fogo waited behind his shelter, and
+still the bull went on cropping.
+
+It was already late, and the brute stood full in the homeward path to
+Kit's House.  It was only possible to make a circuit around the
+ridge, as the cliff's edge cut off a _detour_ on the other side.
+Weary of waiting, Mr. Fogo cautiously rose, pushed his easel under
+the bushes, and began to creep up towards the ridge, holding his
+umbrella in front of him as a screen.  This was rather after the
+fashion of the ostrich, which, to avoid being seen, buries its head
+in the sand; nor was it likely that the beast, if irritated at sight
+of a man, would acquiesce in the phenomenon of an umbrella at large,
+and strolling on its own responsibility.  But as yet the bull's back
+was towards it.
+
+Stealthily Mr. Fogo crept round.  He had placed about seventy yards
+between him and the animal, and had almost gained the summit when a
+dismal accident befell.
+
+"_Cl'k--Whir-r-r-r-roo-oo-oo!_"
+
+It was the alarum in his tail-pocket.  The bull looked up, gazed
+wildly at the umbrella, snorted, lashed out with his tail, and
+started in pursuit.  Quick as thought, Mr. Fogo dropped his screen,
+and, with a startled glance around, dashed at full speed for the
+ridge, the infernal machine still dinning behind him.
+
+Luckily, the bull's onset was directed at the umbrella.  There was a
+thundering of hoofs, a dull roar, and the poor man, as he gained the
+summit and cast a frantic look behind, saw a vision of jagged silk
+and flying ribs.  With a groan he tore forwards.
+
+There was a hedge about fifty yards away, and for this he made with
+panting sides and tottering knees.  If he could only stop that
+alarum!  But the relentless noise continued, and now he could hear
+the bull in fresh pursuit.  However, the umbrella had diverted the
+attack.  After a few seconds of agony Mr. Fogo gained the hedge, tore
+up it, turned, saw the brute appear above the ridge with a wreck of
+silk and steel upon his horns, and with a sob of thankfulness dropped
+over into the next field.
+
+But alas! in doing so Mr. Fogo performed the common feat of leaping
+out of the frying-pan into the fire.  For it happened that on the
+other side a tramp was engaged in his legitimate occupation of
+sleeping under a hedge, and on his extended body our hero rudely
+descended.
+
+"Hi!" said the tramp, "where be you a-comin' to?"
+
+Mr. Fogo picked himself up and felt for his spectacles; they had
+tumbled off in his flight, and without them his face presented a
+curiously naked appearance.  The alarum in his pocket had stopped
+suddenly with the jerk of his descent.
+
+"I beg your pardon," he mildly apologised, "but a bull in the next
+field--"
+
+"That's no cause for selectin' a gentl'm'n's stomach to tumble 'pon,
+growled the tramp.
+
+"I beg your pardon, I'm sure," repeated Mr. Fogo; "you may be sure
+that had time for selection been allowed me--"
+
+"Look 'ere," said the tramp with sudden ferocity, "will you fight?"
+
+
+[Illustration: "Look 'ere," said the tramp . . . "will you fight?"]
+
+
+Mr. Fogo retreated a step.
+
+"Really--"
+
+"Come, look sharp!  You won't?  Then I demands 'arf-a-crown."
+
+With this the ruffian began to tuck up his ragged cuffs, and was
+grimly advancing.  Mr. Fogo leapt back another pace.
+
+"_Cl'k--Whir-r-r-r-roo-oo-oo!_"
+
+This time the alarum was his salvation.  The tramp pulled up, gave a
+hasty terrified stare, and with a cry of "The Devil!" made off across
+the field as fast as his legs would carry him.  Overcome with the
+emotions of the last few minutes Mr. Fogo sat suddenly down, and the
+alarum ceased.
+
+When he recovered he found himself in an awkward predicament.
+He knew of but one way homewards, and that was guarded by the bull;
+moreover, if he attempted to find another road he was hampered by the
+loss of his spectacles, without which he could not see a yard before
+his nose.
+
+However, anything was better than facing the bull again; so he arose,
+picked the brambles out of his clothing, and started cautiously
+across the field.
+
+As luck would have it he found a gate; but another field followed,
+and a third, into which he had to climb by the hedge.  And here he
+suffered from a tendency known to all mountaineers who have lost
+their way in a mist; unconsciously he began to trend away towards the
+left, and as this led him further and further from home, his plight
+became every moment more desperate.
+
+At last he struck into a narrow lane, just as the sun sank.
+He halted for a moment to consider his direction.
+
+"Pat--pat--pat."
+
+He looked up.  A little girl in an immense sun-bonnet was toddling up
+the lane towards him.  She swung a satchel in her left hand, and at
+sight of the stranger paused with her unoccupied forefinger in mouth.
+
+Mr. Fogo advanced straight up to her, stooped with his hands on his
+knees, and peered into her face.  This behaviour, though necessitated
+by his shortness of sight, worked the most paralysing effect on the
+child.
+
+"Little girl, can you tell me the way to Kit's House?"
+
+There was no answer.  Mr. Fogo peered more closely.
+
+"Little girl, can you tell me the way to Kit's House?"
+
+Still there was no answer.
+
+"Little girl--"
+
+"_Cl'k--whir-r-r-r-roo-oo _!"
+
+The effect of the alarum was instantaneous.
+
+"Boo-hoo!" yelled the little girl, and broke into a paroxysm of
+weeping.
+
+"Little girl--"
+
+"Boo-hoo!  Take me home.  I want mammy!"
+
+
+[Illustration: "Boo-hoo! I want mammy!"]
+
+
+"Dear me," cried Mr. Fogo wildly, "this is the most appalling
+situation in which I have ever been placed."  He thought of running
+away, but his humanity forbade it.  At length the alarum ran down;
+but the child continued to scream--
+
+"I want mammy!  Take me home!"
+
+"Hush! hush!  She shall go to mammy--ickle tootsey shall go to mammy.
+Did-ums want-ums mammy?" shouted Mr. Fogo, with an idiotic effort to
+soothe.
+
+But it was useless.  The screams merely increased in volume.
+Mr. Fogo, leaning against the hedge, mopped his brow and looked
+helplessly around.
+
+"What on earth is to be done?"
+
+There was a sudden sound of light footsteps, and then, to his immense
+relief, Tamsin Dearlove stood before him.  She looked as fresh and
+neat as ever and carried a small basket on her arm.
+
+"Whatever is the matter?  Why, 'tis little Susie Clemow!  What's the
+matter, Susie?"  She set down her basket and ran to the child, who
+immediately ceased to yell.
+
+"There now, that's better.  Did the big strange gentleman try to
+frighten her?  Poor little maid!"
+
+"I assure you," said Mr. Fogo, "I tried to do nothing of the kind."
+
+Tamsin paid no attention.
+
+"There now, we're as good as gold again, and can run along home.
+Give me a kiss first, that's a dear."
+
+The little maid, still sobbing fitfully, gave the kiss, picked up her
+satchel, and toddled off, leaving Tamsin and Mr. Fogo face to face.
+
+"Why did you frighten her?"  the girl asked severely.  There was an
+angry flush on her cheek.
+
+"I did not intentionally.  It was the alarum.  First of all I was
+chased by a bull, and then--"  Mr. Fogo told his story incoherently.
+The angry red left Tamsin's cheek, and a look of disdain succeeded.
+
+"And you," she said very slowly, when he had finished, "think you are
+able to despise womankind."
+
+It was Mr. Fogo's turn to grow red.
+
+"And to put up a board," she continued, "with that silly Notice upon
+it--you and that great baby Caleb Trotter--setting all women at
+naught, when you never ought to be beyond tether of their
+apron-strings.  Why, only this morning you'd have caught a sun-stroke
+if I hadn't spread your umbrella over you."
+
+"Did you do that?"
+
+"And who else do you suppose?  A man, perhaps?  Why, there isn't a
+man in the world would have had the sense--'less it was Peter or
+Paul," she added, with a sudden softening of voice, "and they're
+women in everything but strength.  And now," she went on, "as I am
+going that way, I suppose you'll want me to see you home.  Will you
+walk in front or behind, for doubtless you're above walking beside a
+woman?"
+
+"I think you are treating me very hardly."
+
+"Maybe I am, and maybe I meant to.  Maybe you didn't know that that
+Notice of yours might hurt people's feelings.  Don't think I mean
+mine," she explained quickly and defiantly, "but Peter's and Paul's."
+
+There was a pause as they walked along together.
+
+"The board shall come down," said he; "and now may I carry your
+basket?"
+
+"My basket?  Do you think I'd trust a man to carry eggs?"
+She laughed, but with a trace of forgiveness.
+
+He did not answer, but seemed to have fallen into a fit of troubled
+contemplation.  They walked on in silence.
+
+Presently she halted.
+
+"I doubt you've had trouble in your time, and I've hurt your feelings
+and spoken as I oughtn't to have spoken to my betters; but I've seen
+that Peter and Paul were hurt in mind, and that made me say more than
+I meant.  Yonder's your way down to Kit's House.  Good-night, sir."
+
+Mr. Fogo would have held out his hand, but she was gone quickly down
+the road.  He stood for a minute looking after her; then turned and
+walked quickly down the path to Kit's House.
+
+Caleb met him at the door.
+
+"So you'm back, an' I hopes you enj'yed your walk, as Sal said when
+her man comed home from France.  I was just a-comin' to luk for 'ee.
+Where's your easy-all and your umbrella?"
+
+Mr. Fogo told his story.
+
+"H'm!" said Caleb, "an' Tamsin saw 'ee home?"
+
+"Yes; and by the way, Caleb, you may as well take down that notice
+to-morrow."
+
+"H'm!" muttered Caleb again.  "You're quite sure thicky coddysel
+won't do?"
+
+"Quite."
+
+"Very well, sir," said Caleb, and began to busy himself with the
+evening meal.  But he looked curiously at his master more than once
+during the evening.  Mr. Fogo spent most of his time in a brown
+study, smoking and gazing abstractedly into the fire.  Caleb also
+smoked (it was one of his privileges), and finally, with an anxious
+glance, and two or three hard puffs at his pipe, broke the silence--
+
+"The bull es a useful animal, an' when dead supplies us wi'
+rump-steaks an' shoe-horns, as the Sunday-school book says: but for
+all that there's suthin' _lackin'_ to a bull.  'Tain't conviction:
+you niver seed a bull yet as wasn' chuck-full o' conviction, an'
+didn' act up to hes rights, such as they be.  An' 'tain't
+consistency: you drill a notion into a bull's head an' fix et, an'
+he'll save et up, may be for six year, an' then rap et out on 'ee
+till you'm fairly sick for your own gad-about ways.  'Tes logic he
+wants, I reckon--jest logic.  A bull, sir, es no more'n a mass o'
+blind onreas'ning prejudice from horn to tail.  Take hes sense o'
+colour: he can't abide red.  Ef you press the matter, there ain't no
+more reas'n for this than that hes father afore him cudn' abide et;
+but how does he act?  'Hulloa!' says he, 'there's a party in red, an'
+I don't care a tinker's cuss whether 'tes a mail-cart or a
+milisha-man: I'm bound to stop this 'ere taste for red ef I dies nex'
+minnit.'  And at et he goes accordin'.  Ef he seed the Scarlet Woman
+about in his part o' the country, he'd lay by an' h'ist her, an'
+you'd say, 'Well done!' an' I don't say you'd be wrong.  But jest you
+stop an' ax hes motives, an' you'll find 'taint religion.  Lor' bless
+'ee, sir, a bull's got no more use for religion than a toad for
+side-pockets.  'Tes obstinacy--that's what 'tes.  You tells me a
+jackass es obstinate.  Well, an' that's true in a way; and so's a
+hog.  Ef you wants quiet contrariness, a jackass or a hog'll both
+_sit out_ a bull; an' tho' you may cuss the pair till you sweats like
+a fuz'-bush on a dewy mornin', 'tes like heavin' bricks into a
+bott'mless pit.  But a bull ups an' lets 'ee know; there aint no
+loiterin' round an' arrangin' yer subjec' under heads when _he's_
+about.  You don't get no pulpit; an', what's more, you don't stop to
+touch your hat when you makes your congees.  'Tes just pull hot-foot,
+and thank the Lord for hedges; 'cos he's so full o' his own notions
+as a Temp'rance speaker, an' bound to convence 'ee, ef he rams
+daylight in 'ee to do et.  That's a bull.  An' here's anuther p'int;
+he lays head to ground when hes beliefs be crossed, an' you may so
+well whissle as try the power o' the human eye--talkin' o' which puts
+me i' mind o' some curious fac's as happ'n'd up to Penhellick wan
+time, along o' this same power o' the human eye.  Maybe you'd like to
+hear the yarn."
+
+"Eh?" Mr. Fogo roused himself from his abstraction.  "Yes, certainly,
+I should like to hear it."
+
+Caleb knocked his pipe meditatively against the bars of the grate;
+filled it again and lit it; took an energetic pull or two, and then,
+after another hard look at his master across the clouds of smoke,
+began without more ado.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI.
+
+
+OF A WESLEYAN MINISTER THAT WOULD IMPROVE UPON NATURE, AND THEREBY
+TRAINED A ROOK TO GOOD PRINCIPLES.
+
+"Well, sir, et all happen'd when I lived up to Penhellick, an'
+worked long wi' Varmer Mennear.  Ould Lawyer Mennear, as he was
+a-nicknamed--a little cribbage-faced man, wi' a dandy-go-russet wig,
+an' on'y wan eye: leastways, he hadn' but wan fust along when I
+knowed 'n.  That's what the yarn's about, tho'; so us'll go slow, ef
+you plaise, an' hush a bit, as Mary Beswetherick said to th'
+ingine-driver.
+
+"Now, Lawyer Mennear was a circuit-preacher, o' the Wesleyan Methody
+persuash'n, tho' he'd a-got to cross-pupposes wi' the rest o' the
+brethren an' runned a sect all to hissel', which he called th' United
+Free Church o' 'Rig'nal Seceders.  They was called 'Rig'nal Seceders
+for short, an' th' ould man had a toler'ble dacent followin', bein' a
+fust-class mover o' souls an' powerful hot agen th' unregenrit, which
+didn' prevent hes bein' a miserable ould varmint, an' so deep as
+Garrick in hes ord'nary dealin's.  Aw, he was a reg'lar split-fig,
+an' 'ud go where the devil can't, an' that's atween the oak an' the
+rind."
+
+"I see," said Mr. Fogo.
+
+"Iss, sir.  Why, the very fust day I tuk sarvice--I was a tiny tacker
+then--he says to me, 'Caleb, my boy, you'm lookin' all skin an' bones
+for the present, but there's no knawin' what Penhellick beef and
+pudden may do for 'ee yet, ef 'tes eaten wi' a thankful heart.
+Hows'ever, 'bout the work.  I wants you to take the dree jackasses
+an' go to beach for ore-weed, an' as I likes to gie a good boy like
+you a vew privileges, you be busy an' carry so many seams [1] as you
+can, an' I'll gie drappence for ivery seam more'n twenty.'
+
+"Well, sir, I worked like a Trojan, an' ha'f killed they jackasses;
+an' I tell 'ee 'twas busy all to carry dree-an'-twenty seam.  In the
+eveling, arter work, I went to Lawyer Mennear an' axed 'n 'bout the
+nine-pence--I niver got ninepence so hard in all my born days.
+When he paid me, he looked so sly, an' says he--
+
+"' You'm a nation clever boy, you be, an' I doan't gridge 'ee the
+money.  But now I sees what you _can_ do, of cou'se I shall 'spect
+'ee to carry dree-an'-twenty seam ivery day, reg'lar: for the
+workman,' says he, 'es worthy of hes hire.'
+
+"'Darn et!' thought I to mysel', 'this won't do;' an' I niver seed
+azackly the beef an' pudden th' ould man talked about.  Hows'ever, I
+stayed wi' the psalmas-'untin' ould cadger, tho' et made me 'most
+'mazed at times to hear the way he'd carry on down at the Meetin'
+House 'bout the sen o' greed an' the like, an' all the time lookin'
+round to see who owed 'n a happeny.  'My brethren,' he'd call out,
+'my pore senful flock, ef you clings to your flocks an' herds, an'
+tents an' dyed apparel, like onto Korah shall you be, an' like onto
+Dathan an' Abiram, so sure as I be sole agent for Carnaby's Bone
+Manure in this 'ere destrict.' 'Tes true, sir.  An' then he'd rap out
+the hemn, 'Common metre, my brethren, an' Sister Tresidder'll gie the
+pitch--"
+
+    'Whativer, Lord, us lends to Thee
+     Repaid a thousan'fold'll be,
+     Then gladly will us gie to Thee.'
+
+"An' I reckon that was 'bout the size o't.  Aw, he was an anointed
+ould rascal.
+
+"All the same, Lawyer Mennear was reckon'd a powerful wrastler en the
+sperrit by the rest o' the Church-Membership; on'y there was wan
+thing as went agen 'un, an' that was he hadn' but wan eye; tho' Maria
+Chirgwin, as was known to have had experience, an' was brought under
+conviction by th' ould man, told me that et made 'n luk the more
+terrifyin'--"
+
+"Like Polyphemus," put in Mr. Fogo.
+
+"Polly which?"
+
+"Never mind."
+
+"I disknowledged the surname.  But niver mind, as you say, sir;
+feelin's es feelin's, an' th' ould Mennear's wan eye went mortal agen
+'un.  Not but what he wudn' turn et to account now an' then.
+'Tummas doubted,' he said wan day, 'an' how was he convenced?
+Why, by oracular demonstrashun--'"
+
+"Ocular, Caleb."
+
+"Right you are, sir, an' thankye for the correcshun, as the boy said
+to the pupil-teacher; 'by oc-u-lar demonstrashun,' says he.
+'P'raps you dunno what ocular demonstrashun es, my brethren.
+Well, I'll tell 'ee.  That's a wall, ain't et?  An' I'm a preacher,
+arn't I?  An' you be worms, bain't 'ee?  Why, I can see that much
+tho' I _han't_ but wan eye.  An' that's ocular demonstrashun.'
+
+"But, as I was sayin', wan eye _es_ a wisht business, howsomever you
+may turn et up'ards an' call et your thorn i' the flesh, an' the
+likes; an' more'n a few o' the 'Rig'nal Seceders fell away from th'
+ould man's Meetin' House, and became backsliders dro' fear o' being
+overlooked an' ill-wished, so they said.  I reckon 'twas all
+quignogs, but et _did_ luk plaguey like th' evil eye, an' that
+there's no denyin'.
+
+"Well, sir, matters went on i' this way for a brave time, an' the
+'tendance got less, till Lawyer Mennear wos fairly at hes wits' end.
+He talked a' weak-kneed brethren, an' 'puttin' your han's to the
+plough,' an' dreshed the pilm [2] out o' cush'n afore 'un, an'
+kicked up a purty dido, till you cou'd hear the randivoose o' Sunday
+mornin's 'way over t'other side o' Carne hill; but 'twarn't no manner
+o' good.  An' as for the childer at the Sunday-school--th' ould
+rapscallion laid powerful store by hes Sunday-school--'twas 'bear a
+hand ivery wan' to get mun to face that eye: an' you mou't clane
+their faces an' grease their hair as you wou'd, the mothers told me,
+an' see mun off 'pon the road to Meetin' House; but turn your back,
+an' they'd be mitchin' [3] in a brace o' shakes an' 'way to go for
+Coombe beach, an' playin' hidey-peep in their clane pinnyfores 'mong
+the rocks.
+
+"Aw, 'twas shee-vo! 'mong the Church Members, an' no mistake; an' how
+'twud ha' come round, there's no telling, ef et hadn' a-been for what
+Lawyer Mennear called a vouchsafement o' marcy.  An' the way thicky
+vouchsafement comed about was this:
+
+"Th' ould man was up to Plymouth wan day 'bout some shares he'd a-tuk
+in a tradin' schooner; for he'd a finger in most pies.  Nuthin' i'
+the way o' bus'ness comed amiss to'n.  Like Nicholas Kemp, he'd
+occashun for all."
+
+"Who was Nicholas Kemp?" inquired Mr. Fogo.
+
+"On'y a figger o' speech, sir.  Well, ould Mennear had a-done
+bus'ness, an' was strollin' up Union Street 'long wi' his missus--
+Aunt Deb'rah Mennear, as her name was--a fine, bowerly woman, but a
+bit ha'f-baked in her wits; put in wi' the bread, as they say, an'
+tuk out wi' the cakes--when he fetches up 'pon a sudden afore a
+shop-windey.  There was crutches inside, an' jury-legs fash'ned out
+o' cork, an' plaster heads drawn out in maps wi' county-towns marked
+in, an' bumps to show why diff'rent folks broke diff'rent
+Commandments, an' rows o' teeth a-grizzlin', an' blue spectacles, an'
+splints enough to camp-shed a thirty-acred field, an' ear-trumpets
+an' malignant growths--"
+
+"Malignant growths?"
+
+"Iss, sir--in speerits o' wine.  But what tuk th' ould man's notice
+were a trayful o' glass eyes put out for sale i' the windey, an'
+lookin' so nat'ral as life--blue eyes, brown eyes, eyes as black as a
+sloan, [4] an' others, they told me, as went diff'rent colours
+'cordin' as you looked at mun.  Anyway, ould Mennear pulled up short
+an' clinched Deb'rah by the elbow.
+
+"'Like onto the fishpools in Heshbon!' says he; an' wi' that he
+bounses into the shop.
+
+"'How much for them eyes?' he axes.
+
+"'Do 'ee want the lot?' says the chap in the shop, a reg'lar little
+dandy-sprat, an' so pert as a jay-pie in June.  ''Cos us makes a
+reducshun on takin' a quantity,' says he.
+
+"'Wan'll do for me,' says Lawyer Mennear.
+
+"'They be two pund-ten apiece,' says the whipper-snapper, 'an' ten
+shillin' for fixin'.'
+
+"Well, sir, you may fancy th' ould man's face when he heerd the
+price.  He sot down, like as ef the wind was tuk out of hes sails,
+an' says he--'I'll gie thirty shillin.'
+
+"The shopman wudn' ha' this; so at et they went, higglin' an'
+hagglin' on til 'twas agreed at las' he shud ha' the eye for two
+pund-five, fixin's included.  'Twas like drawin' blood from a stone;
+but th' ould man had done a stroke of bus'ness that day, so in th'
+end he pulls out hes bag an' tells out the money 'pon the counter.
+
+"'An' now,' says the whipper-snapper, 'which'll 'ee ha'?  Grey's the
+colour, I reckons, ef you wants a match.'
+
+"'Drat the colour!' says ould Mennear, 'I've a-paid my price, an'
+I'll ha' the biggest, ef et be bassomy-red.' [5]
+
+"Well, the shopman laffs, o' cou'se, but lets 'n ha' hes own way; an'
+th' ould man picked out the biggest--bright blue et was, suthin' the
+colour of a hedgy-sparrer's egg, an' shiny-clear like a glass-alley.
+They was a brave long while gettin' et fixed, 'cos 'twas so big.
+Ef he'd a-been content an' took a smaller wan, he'd ha' done better:
+but he was bound to be over-reachin', was th' ould varmint, an' so he
+comed to grief, as you shall hear.  There's many folks i' this world
+be knowin' as Kate Mullet."
+
+"I never heard of that lady," said Mr. Fogo.
+
+"There's not much to know, sir, 'cept that they say her was hanged
+for a fool.  Hows'ever, to shorten the yarn, ould Mennear got hes eye
+fixed at las', an' went home wi' Aunt Deb'rah so pleased as Punch.
+
+"Nex' Sunday 'twas Hamlet's Ghost 'mong the 'Rig'nal Seceders, an' no
+mistake!  Some o' the female members fell to screamin' so soon as
+iver they clapped eyes on th' ould man, an' Sister Trudgeon was tuk
+wi' a fit, an' had to be carr'd out wi' two deacons to her head an'
+two to her heels, an' kickin' so that Deacon Hoskins cudn' master hes
+vittles for up a fortni't, he was that hurted internally.  An' the
+wust was, that what wi' the rumpus an' her singin' out 'Pillaloo!'
+an' how the devil was amongst mun, havin' great wrath, the Lawyer's
+sarmon about a 'wecked an' 'dulterous generation seekin' arter a
+sign' was clean sp'iled.  Arter the sarvice, too, there was a deal of
+discussin'.  Some said 'twas senful to interfere wi' Natur' i' that
+way, an' wrong in a purfessin' Christian like Mennear; an' all agreed
+the new eye gave 'n a janjansy [6] kind o' look, 'as ef,' said Deacon
+Hoskins, 'he was blinchin' [7] fifty ways for Grace.'  There was some
+talk, too, about axin' the old man to resign; but nuthin' came o't.
+An' arter a time, when the congregashun got a bit reconciled, folks
+began to allow the new eye improved Mennear's pulpit manner, an'
+guessed that, arter all, et mou't be a powerful engine for effectual
+salvashun.  Et had a _dead_ appearance, ef you understands me, sir,
+and yet a sort o' gashly wakefulness, like a thing onhuman, 'cos o'
+cou'se et niver winked; th' ould man cudn' ha' winked, not for a
+fi'-pund note, for the thing was that big et strained his eyelid like
+a drum.  'Sides which, et had a way o' keepin' order 'mong the
+worshippers that you cudn' believe onless you seed it; for, let alone
+the colour o't, you niver knawed whether 'twas fixed on you or ten
+pews off, but somehow felt dead-sure 'twas you all the time, an'
+cudn' ha' moved, not if you had a blue-tailed fly inside the back o'
+your collar.
+
+"Well, sir, nat'rally the Meetin' House began to fill agen, at fust
+out o' curiosity, but by-'m-by the list of Admitted Members began to
+fill up.  Folk cudn' hold out when th' ould Lawyer ramped on 'bout t'
+other world an' there was that eye fixin' mun an' lookin' as though
+et had  _been there_.  I needn' tell 'ee th' ould man wore et ivery
+Sunday: 'deed, he wore et most days, but tuk et out o' nights, I've
+heerd, for 'twudn' shut when he slep', but used to scare ould Deb'rah
+Mennear fairly out of her sken o' moonshiny nights, when the light
+comed in 'pon et.  An' even when her got 'n to lave et off, her used
+allays to put a tay-cup 'pon top o't afore closin' an eye.
+
+"So et went on, sir, till wan Sunday mornin', when the Lawyer was
+fairly warmin' to hes work over the weckedness o' backsliders an' the
+wrath to come, he whacks the cush'n more'n ord'nary vi'lent, an' I
+reckon that made the eye work loose.  Anyway, out et drops, and
+clatters down along the floor o' the Meetin' House.
+
+"Now Deacon Hoskins i' them days had charge o' the Sunday-school
+boys.  He was a short-sighted man, the Deacon, tho' that were hes
+misfortun'; but he had faults as well, an' wan o' these was a
+powerful knack o' droppin' off to sleep durin' sarmon-time.
+Hows'ever, he managed very tidily, for he knawed he was bound to wake
+hissel' so soon as he began to snore, an' then he'd start up sudden
+an' fetch the nighest boy a rousin' whistcuff 'pon the side o' the
+head to cover the noise he'd made, an' cry out, 'I've a-caught 'ee
+agen, ha' I?  I'll tache 'ee to interrup' the word o' Grace wi' your
+gammut [8] an' may-games!'--an' he'd look round like as ef he'd say,
+'Sorry to interrup', brethren, but desceplin' es desceplin'!'
+Many's the time I've a-seed 'n do this, an' you may take my word,
+sir, 'twas so good as a play!"
+
+Now this morning Deacon Hoskins was takin' forty winks as ushul, when
+the clatter made by th' ould Mennear's eye makes 'n set up,
+wide-awake an' starin'.  This time, jedgin' by the noise, he tuk a
+consait that the boys had been a-playin' marbles sure 'nuff; so he
+takes two at haphazard, knacks their heads togither, an' then looks
+about.  Fust thing he sees es th' eye lying out 'pon the aisle an'
+lookin' for all the world like a big shiny glass-alley.
+
+"I told 'ee, sir, the Deacon were short o' sight.  He hadn' a doubt
+by this time the boys had been foolin' about wi' marbles, so he
+reaches out, grabs the eye, an' slips et into hes trowsy-pocket; an'
+then he takes a glance round, so much as to say, 'I reckon the owner
+of this 'ere glass-alley'll ha' to wait afore he sees 'n agen.'
+
+"In cou'se, the rest o' the brethren knawed what had happened, an'
+wan or two fell to titterin' a bit; but altogether there was a kind
+o' breathlessness for a moment or so, an' then th' ould Mennear sings
+out from the pulpit--
+
+"'Brother Hoskins, I'll trouble you to kindly pass up that eye.'
+
+"Deacon Hoskins stared a bit, but was too short o' sight to see what
+the matter was.
+
+"'Eh?' says he.
+
+"'Hand up that eye, ef you plaise.'
+
+"'What eye?' says the Deacon.
+
+"Th' ould Mennear stamped and seemed fit to swear.
+
+"'Why, _my_ eye, you nation bufflehead!'  The Lawyer didn't mind much
+what he said when hes back was up; an' arter all 'twere, in a kind o'
+way, 'scuseable.
+
+"'Look 'ere,' answers back the Deacon, 'ef you've drapped your eye,
+an' be that fond o' the cheap-jack thing that you can't get on wi'out
+et, send round Deacon Spettigue to hunt, an' not a man as can't see
+sax inches afore hes nose.  Et's out o' reas'n,' he said, 'an' you
+ort to know better.'
+
+"In cou'se, tho', when he found out hes mistake an' lugged the thing
+out o' hes pocket, there was Bedlam let loose, for up five minnits,
+ivery mother's son chitterin' an' laffin, an' the Deacon lookin' like
+a pig in a fit.  He desarted the Seceders that very week, an' niver
+darken'd the Meetin' House door agen to the day o' hes death.
+
+"Well, the fuss got calmed over, but somehow the Lawyer cudn' niver
+trust hes eye as he used to.  He said 'twarn't fully dependable; an',
+sure 'nuff, within a month et slipped out agen, and th' ould man was
+forced to go to Plymouth an' buy another, a bit smaller.  So he lost
+by his mean ways arter all.  He tried to trade back th' ould eye, but
+the shopman wudn'; so he brought et home in hes pocket, and laid it
+by in the chaney cupboard, 'long wi' the cloam, [9] an' there et
+bided.
+
+"An' now, sir, I'm a-comin' to the most curiosest part o' my yarn:
+an' you can believe or no, as you thinks fit, but I'll tell 'ee jest
+what I knows an' no more.
+
+"Some two year arter, Lawyer Mennear tuk a corner out o' the
+twenty-acred field--a little patch to the right o' the gate as you
+went in--an' planted et wi' green peas.  Six rows he planted, an'
+beautiful peas, too, on'y the birds wudn' let mun ha' a chance.
+Well, at las' th' ould man got mad, an' stuck me 'pon top o' the
+hedge wi' a clapper to scare the birds away; 'sides which, to make
+sure, he rigged up a scarecrow.  'Twas a lovely scarecrow: two
+cross-sticks an' the varmer's own coat--'twas the coat he'd a-got
+married in forty year afore.  He gied et to me when the scarecrow had
+done wi' et, an' the tails were so long as an Act o' Parlyment.
+'Top o' this was a whackin' big turmut by way o' face, wi' a red
+scarf round the neck--from Aunt Deb'rah's petticoat--an' wan o' th'
+ould man's left-off wigs 'pon the crown, an' a high-poll hat, a bit
+rusted wi' Sunday obsarvance, to finish.  Did I say 'to finish'?
+
+"Well, then, I said wrong.  'Cos jest when I'd a-rigged 'n up, down
+comes Aunt Deb'rah an' cries out, 'Aw, Caleb, here be suthin' more!
+Do 'ee fix et in, that's a dear; an' ef et don't scare away any bird
+as iver flied, then,' says she, 'I'm wuss nor any bird'; an' wi' that
+she opens her hand an' gies me the Lawyer's cast-off eye.
+
+"So I outs wi' my pocket-knife an' digs a hole in the turmat face,
+an' inside o' ten minnits there was the scarecrow finished off.
+Aw, sir, 'twas a beautiful scarecrow; an' when us stuck et up, I tell
+'ee that from the kitchen windeys, three hundred yards away, et
+seemed like life itsel'.
+
+"Well, sir, fust day 'twas stuck there, I sot beside the hedge, round
+the corner, watchin', and while I sot two queerish things happen'd--
+tho' the fust warn't so queer nuther, but jest human natur', when you
+comes to consider et.  'Twas this.  I hadn' been there an hour afore
+_two score an' dree wimmen_--I knows, 'cos I kep' count--came, wan
+arter anuther, down to the gate to make sheep's eyes at that
+scarecrow, havin' heerd as there was a well-dressed lad down among
+the peas.  An' that's true, ef I swears et 'pon the Book."
+
+"Ah!" was Mr. Fogo's only comment.
+
+"Iss, sir; an' well you may say so.  But the nex' thing I noticed was
+a sight queerer.  In fac' I dunno but et's the queerest go I iver
+heard tell 'bout.  But you may jedge for yoursel'.
+
+"I'd been a-settin' there for the best part o' two hour, an' keepin'
+count o' how wan bird arter another comed up for they peas, an'
+turned tail at sight o' the scarecrow.  For et didn' seem like no
+ord'nary scarecrow, sir, wi' that eye a-glintin' in the sunshine.
+I cou'd see 't from where I sot--an' so the birds thought.  Well, wan
+arter another, they steps up an' flies off as ef hurried for time,
+when by-'m-by 'long comes an ould rook.
+
+"He jest sa'ntered up quite leisurable, did this rook, an' lit 'pon a
+pea-stick to take a blinch round.  Nat'rally he cotches sight o' the
+scarecrow, an' nat'rally I looked for 'n to turn tail, like the rest.
+But no, sir.
+
+"Where he was, the scarecrow's back was t'wards 'un, an' th' ould
+bird jest looks et up an' down, an' this way an' that, an' cocks his
+head 'pon wan side, an' looks agen an' chuckles, for all the world as
+ef to say, 'Et looks like a man, an' 'tis fixed like a man; but dash
+my wig! ef 'tain't a scarecrow an' no more, I ain't fit to live in an
+age o' imitashuns.'
+
+"Well, he jest sot an' sot, an' arter a while he began for to taste
+the flavour o' the joke, an' then he lay back an' laffed, did that
+bird, till he was fit to sweat.  I reckoned I'd a-heerd birds laff
+afore this, but I made an error.  My 'ivens, sir! but he jest
+clinched on to that pea-stick, an' shook the enj'yment out of hissel'
+like a conjurer shellin' cannon-balls from a hat.  An' then he'd stop
+a bit, an' then fall to hootin' agen, till I was forced to laff too,
+way back behind the hedge, for cumpanny.  An' ivery time he noted a
+fresh bit o' likelihood in the scarecrow he'd go off in a fresh fit.
+I thought he'd niver ha' done.
+
+"But in a while he hushed, an' waited a bit to calm hes nerves, an'
+stepped down off the pea-stick.  Thinks I, 'What es he up to now?'
+An' I stood up to see, but quiet-like, so's I shudn' scare 'n.
+
+"I hadn' long to wait.  He jest steps up behind the scarecrow, makes
+a leg, so grave as you plaise, an' commences for to dance round 'un--
+fust 'pon wan leg, then 'pon t'other--like as ef 'twas a haythen
+dancin' round a graven image.  But the flauntin' ins'lence o't, sir!
+The brazen, fleerin' abusefulness!  Not a feather, ef you'll believe
+me, but fairly leaked wi' ribaldry--jest _leaked_.
+
+"Th' ould bird had got ha'f-way round, a-mincin' an' japin', an'
+throwin' out hes legs this way an' that an' gettin' more boldacious
+an' ondacent wi' ivery step, when he cocks his head askew for a
+second, jest to see how the pore image was a-takin' o't, an' that
+moment he catches the scarecrow's eye.
+
+"Aw, sir, to see the change as comed over that bird!
+The forthiness [10] went out o'n for all the world like wind out 'n a
+pricked bladder; an' I reckon nex' minnit there warn't no meaner,
+sicklier-lookin' critter atween this an' Johnny Groats' than that
+ould rook.  There was a kind o' shever ran through 'n, an' hes
+feathers went ruffly-like, an' hes legs bowed in, an' he jes' lay
+flat to groun' and goggled an' glazed up at that eye like a dyin'
+duck in a thunderstorm.  'Twas a rich sight, sir; an' how I contrived
+not to bust mysel' wi' laffin', es more'n I can tell 'ee to this day.
+
+"So he lay for up ten minnits, an' then he staggered up 'pon hes feet
+an' sneaked out o' them peas like a chuck-sheep dog, an' the
+repent'nce a-tricklin' out 'n ivery pore.  He passed me by that close
+I cou'd ha' knacked 'n over wi' a stick, but he didn' see me more'n
+ef I'd a'been a pisky-man. [11]  All hes notiss, I reckon, were for
+that gashly eye; an' he looked back ivery now and agen, like as ef
+he'd say, 'I be but worms; an', wuss nor that, I've a-been a
+scoffin', lyin', Sabbath-breakin' ould worms; but do 'ee let me off
+this wance, an' I'll strive an' wrastle,' he seemed to say, 'an' do
+purty well all a rook can to be gathered to the fold.'  An' wi' that
+he slinks over th' hedge an' out o' sight.
+
+"Well, sir, I didn' see 'n agen nex' day, nor for many days arter;
+but on Sunday-week, as et mou't be, i' the mornin' I'd a-took French
+lave an' absented mysel' from Meetin' House, an' were quietly smokin'
+my pipe up in the town-place, [12] when I hears a chitterin' an' a
+chatterin' like as 'twere a little way off; an' lookin' down t'wards
+the twenty-acred field, I seed 'twere black wi' rooks--fairly black,
+sir--black as the top o' your hat.  Thinks I, 'I reckon here's some
+new caper,' an' I loafes down to see the fun.
+
+"I stales down the lane, an' looks over the gate, an' when I takes
+in, at las', what 'tes all about, my!--you mou't ha' knacked me down
+wi' a feather!  'Twas a prayer-meetin' them rooks was a-holdin', sir,
+as I'm a senner.  The peas was fairly hid wi' the crowd, an' 'twas
+that thick I counted sax 'pon wan pea-stick.  An' in the middle, jes'
+onder the scarecrow, stood up th' ould rook I'd a-seen afore, an'
+told hes experiences.  He ramped, an' raved, an' mopped, an' mowed,
+an' kep' a-noddin' his head t'wards the scarecrow, to show how hes
+salvashun was worked; an' all the time the rest o' the rooks sat
+still as mice.  On'y when he pulls up to breathe a bit, they lets out
+an' squalls, as ef to say, 'Amen.  'Tes workin'--'tes workin'!
+Pray strong, brother!' an' at et he'd go agen, same as he _must_.
+An' at las', when 'twas 'hold breath or bust' wi' 'un, he ups an'
+starts a hemn, an' they all jines in, till you mou't hear the
+caprouse [13] two mile off.  That were the finish, too; for arter the
+row died away, there was a minnit or so o' silent prayer, an' then
+the whole gang gets up off they pea-sticks an' sails away for Squire
+Tresawsen's rookery, t'other side o' the hill.
+
+"Well, in cou'se I tells the tale, an' was called a liard for my
+pains.  But the same thing happen'd nex' Sunday, an' the Sunday
+arter--an' not a pea stolen all the time--an' a good few people
+comed down behind the hedge to see, an' owned up as I were right.
+Et got to be the talk o' the country; an' how 'twud ha' ended,
+goodness on'y knaws, ef I hadn' a-spi'led the sport mysel'.  An' how
+I did so, you shall hear.
+
+"Wan day I tuk a consait as 'twud be a game to take away the
+scarecrow's eye an' see what happen'd.  So, late 'pon a Sat'rday
+night, down I goes an' digs out the eye wi' my jack-knife, an' lays
+et careful down 'pon the ground beside et, an' so off to bed.
+
+"Nex' mornin' I were down waitin' some time afore the rooks was due,
+an' by-'m-by, about 'leven in the forenoon, 'long they comes by the
+score, an' takes the sittin's 'pon the pea-sticks.  They was barely
+settled, when out steps my ould rook an' walks up to the scarecrow to
+lead off same as ushul.
+
+"He gives a shake o' the head to set hes jawin'-tacks loose, casts a
+glance up'ards t'wards the eye, jes' to fetch inspirashun, an' starts
+back like as ef shot.  You cou'd see the 'stonishment _clinch_ 'n,
+an' the look o' righteousness melted off hes face like snow in an
+oven.  For that bird had _gifts_, sir; an' wan o' these was a power
+o' fashul expresshun.  Well, back he starts, an', with the same,
+cotches sight o' the eye lyin' 'pon the ground an' starin' up all
+heav'nly-blue an' smilin'.
+
+"There was a pause arter this, jes' about so long as you cou'd count
+twenty; an' the rest o' the congregashun began to fidget an' whisper
+round that suthin' was up, when all 'pon a sudden my ould rook
+straightens hissel' up an' begins to cuss and to swear.  What's that
+you say, sir?  Rooks don't swear?  Don't tell me.  Blasphemin'?
+Why, in two minnits the air was stiff wi' blasphemy--you might ha'
+cut et wi' a knife.  An' oaths?  Why, you cou'd _feel_ the oaths.
+An' there he sot an' cussed, an' cussed an' sot, an' let the
+hatefulness run out like watter from a pump.
+
+"In cou'se, 'twarnt long afore the rest gather'd round to larn what
+the mess was, an' then there was Chevychace.  They handed round the
+eye, an' looked at et this way an' that, an' 'splained what had
+happen'd wan to t'other; an' then they hushed an' stood quiet while
+their dasayved brother cussed hissel' out.  Not a smile 'mongst the
+lot, sir; not a wink, as I be a truthful man.
+
+"At las' he'd a-done, an' not too soon for hes lungs; an' then the
+lot sat down an' conseddered et out, an' still not a word for minnits
+togither.  But all to wanst up starts a youngish-lookin' rook, an'
+makes a speech.
+
+"'Twarn't a long speech, sir, an' nat'rally I didn't understand a
+word: but I cotched his drift in a minnit, tho'.  For they rooks
+started up, walked back to their seats, an' what do 'ee think they
+did?"
+
+"I couldn't pretend to guess," said Mr. Fogo.
+
+"They jes' started that sarvice agan, sir, an' paradised et from
+start to finish.  They mixed up ow jests wi' the prayers, an' flung
+in fancy yarns wi' their experiences, an' made a mock at th'
+exhortashun; an' what they sung in place o' the hemn, I don't know;
+but I _do_ knaw this much--et warn't fit for a woman to list'n to.
+
+"Well, I laffed--I was forced to laff--but arter a while et grew a
+bit too strong, an' I runned up to th' house to fetch down a few
+folks to look.  I warn't away 'bove ten minnits; but when I comed
+back there warn't no rook to be seen, nor no eye nuther.
+They'd a-carr'd et off to Squire Tresawsen's rookery, an' et's niver
+been seen fro' that day to this."
+
+
+
+There was silence for a few moments as Caleb finished his story and
+lit another pipe.  Finally Mr. Fogo roused him to ask--
+
+"What became of your master, Caleb?"
+
+"Dead, sir--dead," answered Caleb, staring into the embers of the
+fire.  "He lived to a powerful age, tho' albeit a bit totelin' [14]
+in hes latter days.  But for all that he mou't ha' been like
+Tantra-bobus--lived till he died, or at least been a centurion--"
+
+"A what?"
+
+"Centurion, sir; otherwise a hundred years old.  But he went round
+land [15] at las', an' was foun' dead in hes bed--o' heart-break, they
+did say, 'long o' his gran'-darter Joanna runnin' away wi' an army
+cap'n."
+
+"Ah!" said Mr. Fogo, pensively, "she was a woman, was she not?"
+
+"To be sure, sir; what elst?--a female woman, an' so baptised."
+
+There was a moment's silence; then Caleb resumed--
+
+"But contrari-wise, sir, the army cap'n was a man."
+
+"Ah! yes, of course; let us be just--the army captain was a man.
+Caleb," said Mr. Fogo, with a sudden change from his pensive manner,
+"has it ever occurred to you to guess why I--not yet an old man,
+Caleb--am living in this solitude?"
+
+"Beggin' your pard'n, sir, an' makin' so free as to guess, but were
+it a woman by any chance?"
+
+"Yes," said his master, rising hurriedly and lighting his candle,
+"it was a woman, Caleb--it was a woman.  You won't forget that Notice
+to-morrow morning, will you?--the first thing, if you please, Caleb."
+
+
+   Footnotes, Chapter XI
+   [1] A cart-load.
+   [2] Dust.
+   [3] Playing truant.
+   [4] Sloe.
+   [5] Heather-coloured.
+   [6] Two-faced. Qy.  from Janus?
+   [7] Prying, looking about.
+   [8] Nonsense.
+   [9] Crockery.  Drinking in Troy is euphemistically called "emptyin'
+       cloam."
+   [10] Boldness, forwardness.
+   [11] A fairy.
+   [12] Farm-yard.
+   [13] Noise, tumult.
+   [14] Demented, imbecile.
+   [15] Died.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII.
+
+
+OF DETERIORATION; AND A WHEELBARROW THAT CONTAINED UNEXPECTED THINGS.
+
+Great events meanwhile were happening in Troy.  On the eighth morning
+of his eclipse Admiral Buzza was startled by a brisk step upon the
+stairs; the devil's tattoo was neatly struck upon his bed-room door,
+and the head of Mr. Goodwyn-Sandys looked in.
+
+"Ah! Admiral, here you are; like What's-his-name in the ruins of
+Thingummy.  You'll pardon me coming up, but my wife is downstairs
+with Mrs. Buzza, and I was told I should find you here.  Don't rise--
+'no dress,' as they say.  May I smoke?  Thanks.  And how are you by
+this time?  I heard something of your mishap, but not the rights of
+it.  I'll sit down, and you can tell me all about it."
+
+Here was affability indeed.  The Admiral conquered his first impulse
+of diving beneath the bed-clothes, and, lying back, recounted his
+misadventure at some length.  The Honourable Frederic listened and
+smoked with perfect gravity.  At the close he said--
+
+"Very dirty treatment, 'pon my word; though I'm not sure I don't
+sympathise with the fellow in warning off the women.  But why stay in
+bed?"
+
+"There are feelings,"--began the Admiral.
+
+"Ah! to be sure--injured feelings--ungrateful country--blow, blow,
+thou winter wind, &c.  So you take to bed, like the Roman gentleman
+who went too; forget the place.  Gets rid of the women, too;
+nuisance--women--when you're upset; nonsense, that about pain and
+anguish playing the deuce, and a ministering angel thou--tommy-rot, I
+call it.  Can't be bothered, now, in bed--turn round and snore; wife
+has hysterics--snore louder.  Capital!  I've a mind to try the same
+plan when Geraldine is fussing and fuming.  These infernal women--"
+
+I am sorry to say that the Admiral, instead of defending Mrs. Buzza,
+began to exculpate Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys.
+
+"But your wife is so charming, so--"
+
+"Of course, my dear sir; so is Mrs. Buzza."
+
+"She was termed the 'Belle of Portsmouth' at the Ball where I
+proposed to her," remarked the Admiral, with some complacency.
+
+"To be sure; trust a sailor to catch the pretty girls--eh?"
+
+The Admiral chuckled feebly.
+
+"But these women--"
+
+"Ah!  yes; these women--"
+
+"Bachelor life was pleasant--eh, Admiral?"
+
+"Ah!"
+
+The two men looked at each other.  A smile spread over either
+countenance.  I regret to say the Admiral winked, and then chuckled
+again.
+
+"Admiral, you must get up."
+
+The Admiral stared interrogatively; his visitor pursued, with some
+inconsequence--"By the way, is there a club here?"
+
+"There's the 'Jolly Trojans' down at the 'Man-o'-War'; they meet on
+Tuesdays, Thursdays, and--"
+
+"Low lot, I suppose?"
+
+"Well, yes," admitted the Admiral; "a certain amount of good
+fellowship prevails, I understand; but low, of course--distinctly
+low."
+
+The Honourable Frederic tapped his boot reflectively with his
+malacca.
+
+"Admiral," he said at last, "you ought to found a Club here."
+
+"Bless my heart!  I never thought of it."
+
+"It is your duty."
+
+"You think so?"
+
+"Sure of it."
+
+"I will get up," said the Admiral decisively.  He started out of bed,
+and looked around for his clothes.
+
+"Nice place, the country," pursued the Honourable Frederic
+thoughtfully; "fresh eggs, and grass to clean your pipe with--but apt
+to be dull.  Now, a pleasant little society; cards, billiards, and
+social _reunions_--select, of course--"
+
+"Of course.  Do you happen to be sitting on my trousers?"
+
+"Eh?  No, I believe--no.  Let me see--limited loo and a modest pool
+of an evening.  Hullo! what's the matter?"
+
+The Admiral had rushed to the door.
+
+"Emily!" he bawled down the stairs.
+
+"Well, I'll be going.  Can't find your trousers?  Admiral, it's the
+last straw.  But we'll be revenged, Admiral.  We'll found a Club;
+and, by George, sir, we'll call it 'The Inexpressibles'!  Ta-ta for
+the present," and Mr. Goodwyn-Sandys retired.
+
+But what was being discussed below when the Admiral's voice disturbed
+his wife?  Alas! you shall hear.
+
+"These men," Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys was saying, "are all alike.  But, my
+dear, why not disregard his absurd humours?  I have revolted from
+Frederic long ago."
+
+"You don't say so!"
+
+"It is a fact.  Take my advice and do the same.  It needs courage at
+first, but they are all cowards--oh, such cowards, my dear!
+Revolt.  Cry 'Havoc!' and let slip--"
+
+"My dear, I should faint."
+
+"Oh, poor soul!  Reflect!  How pretty the domestic virtues are, but
+how impossible!  Besides, how unfashionable!"
+
+Mrs. Buzza reflected.
+
+"I will!" she exclaimed at last.  Just then her husband's voice
+detonated in the room above.  She arose, trembling like a leaf.
+"Be firm," said her adviser.
+
+"I will."
+
+"Sit down again.  It will do him no harm to wait."
+
+Mrs. Buzza obeyed, still trembling.
+
+It was at this moment that the Honourable Frederic re-entered the
+room, and looked around with a slow smile.
+
+
+"Nellie," he observed, when they were outside the house, "you're a
+vastly clever woman, my love."
+
+"How's the Admiral?" was the reply.
+
+"He nibbles, my angel; he bites."
+
+"I heard him barkin'.  An' how long will Brady be givin' us?"
+
+"Two months, my treasure."
+
+Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys reflected for a moment, and then made the
+following extraordinary reply--
+
+"Be aisy, me dear.  In six weeks I'll be ready to elope from yez."
+
+What passed between the Admiral and Mrs. Buzza when they were left
+together was never fully known.  But it was quickly whispered that in
+No. 2, Alma Villas, the worm had turned.  Oddly enough, the spread of
+conjugal estrangement did not end here.  It began to be rumoured that
+Lawyer Pellow and his wife had "differences "; that Mr. and Mrs.
+Simpson dined at different hours; and that the elder Miss Strip had
+broken off a very suitable match with a young ship's chandler, on
+the ground that ship's candles were not  "genteel."  It was about
+this time, too, that Mrs. Wapshot, at the confectionery shop, refused
+to walk with Mr. Wapshot on the Rope-walk after Sunday evening
+service, because domestic bliss was  "horrid vulgar";  and Mrs.
+Goodwyn-Sandys' dictum that  "one admirer, at least, was no more than
+a married woman's due," only failed of acceptance because the supply
+of admirers in Troy fell short of the demand.  She had herself
+annexed Samuel Buzza and Mr. Moggridge.
+
+Meanwhile the Admiral was not idle; and had anything been needed to
+whet his desire for a Club, it would have been found in a dreadful
+event that happened shortly afterwards.
+
+
+It was May-morning, and the Admiral was planted in the sunshine
+outside No. 2, Alma Villas, loudly discussing the question of the
+hour with Mr. Goodwyn-Sandys, Lawyer Pellow, and the little Doctor.
+
+"No, we can't have him," he was roundly declaring; "the Club must be
+select, or it is useless to discuss it further."
+
+"Must draw the line somewhere," murmured the Honourable Frederic.
+
+"Quite so; at this rate we shall be admitting all the 'Jolly
+Trojans.'"
+
+Just then an enormous wheelbarrow was observed approaching, seemingly
+by supernatural means, for no driver could be seen.  The barrow was
+piled to a great height, and staggered drunkenly from side to side of
+the road; but the load, whatever it was, lay hidden beneath a large
+white cloth.
+
+"H'm!" said the little Doctor dubiously.  "Well, of course, you know
+best, but I should have thought that as an old inhabitant of Troy--"
+
+"Pooh, my dear fellow," snapped the Admiral, "it is natural that the
+feelings of a few will be hurt; but if once we begin to elect the
+'Jolly Trojans'--"
+
+The barrow had drawn near meanwhile, and now halted at the Admiral's
+feet.  From behind it stepped into view an exceeding small boy,
+attired mainly in a gigantic pair of corduroys that reached to the
+armpits, and were secured with string around the shoulders.  His face
+was a mask of woe, and he staunched his tears on a very grimy
+shirt-sleeve as he stood and gazed mutely into the Admiral's face.
+
+"Go away, boy!" said Admiral Buzza severely.
+
+The boy sobbed loudly, but made no sign of moving.
+
+"Go away, I tell you!"
+
+"'Tes for you, sir."
+
+"For me?  What does the boy mean?"
+
+"Iss, sir.  Missusses orders that I was to bring et to Adm'ral
+Buzza's; an' ef I don't pay out Billy Higgs for this nex' time I
+meets wi' 'un--"
+
+"The child's daft!" roared the Admiral.  "D---- the boy!  what has
+Billy Higgs to do with me?"
+
+"Poured a teacupful o' water down the nape o' my breeches when I'd
+got ha'f-way up the hill an' cudn' set the barrow down to fight
+'un--the coward! Boo-hoo!" and tears flowed again at the
+recollection.
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"Cake, sir."
+
+"Cake!"
+
+"Iss, sir--cake."
+
+The youth stifled a sob, and removed the white cover from the
+wheelbarrow.
+
+"Bless my soul!" gasped the Admiral, "there must be some mistake."
+
+"It certainly seems to be cake," observed the Honourable Frederic,
+examining the load through his eye-glass; "and very good cake, too,
+by the smell."
+
+
+[Illustration: "It certainly seems to be cake," observed the
+Honourable Frederic.]
+
+
+He was right.  High on the barrow, and symmetrically piled, rested
+five-and-twenty huge cakes--yellow cakes such as all Trojans love--
+each large as a mill-stone, tinctured with saffron, plentifully
+stowed with currants, and crisp with brown crust, steaming to heaven,
+and wooing the nostrils of the gods.
+
+"Bless my soul!" repeated the Admiral, "but I never ordered this."
+
+Each member of the group in turn advanced, inspected the cake,
+sniffed the savour, pronounced it excellent, and looked from the
+Admiral to the boy for explanation.
+
+"Mrs. Dymond down to the 'Man-'o-War' sent et, sir, wi' her
+compliments to Maaster Sam, an' hopin' as he'll find et plum i' the
+bakin' as it leaves her at present, an' the currants all a-picked
+careful, knowin' as he'd a sweet tooth."
+
+"Sam!  Do you mean to tell me that Sam--that my son--ordered _this?_
+Upon my word, of all--"
+
+"Didn' azackly order et, sir.  Won et fair an' square.  Bill Odgers
+comed nex' wi' seven-an'-ninety gallon.  But Master Sam topped the
+lot by a dozen gallon aisy."
+
+"Gallons!  What the devil is the boy talking bout?"
+
+"Beer, sir--beer; fust prize for top score o' beer drunk down to the
+'Man-o'-War' sence fust o' November last.  He's a wunner for beer, es
+Maaster Sam," pursued the relentless urchin, who by this time had
+forgotten his tears.  "Hunderd an' nine gallons, sir, an' Bill Odgers
+so jallous as fire--says he'd ha' won et same as he did last time,
+on'y Maaster Sam's got the longer purse--offered to fight 'un, an'
+the wuss man to pay for both nex' time."
+
+Mr. Goodwyn-Sandys turned aside to conceal a smile.  Lawyer Pellow
+rubbed his chin.  The Admiral stamped.
+
+"Take it away!"
+
+"Where be I to take it to, plaise, sir?"
+
+"Take it away--anywhere; take it to the devil!"
+
+But worse remained for the little man.  During this conversation
+there had come unperceived up the road a gentleman of mild
+appearance, dressed in black, and carrying under his arm a large
+parcel wrapped about with whitey-brown paper.
+
+The new-comer, who was indeed our friend Mr. Fogo, now advanced
+towards the Admiral with a bow.
+
+"Admiral Buzza, I believe?"
+
+The Admiral turned and faced the speaker; his jaw fell like a signal
+flag; but he drew himself up with fine self-repression.
+
+"Sir, I am Admiral Buzza."
+
+"I have come," said Mr. Fogo, quietly pulling the pins out of his
+parcel, "to restore what I believe is your property (Will somebody
+oblige me by holding this pin?  Thank you), and at the same time to
+apologise for the circumstances under which it came into my hands.
+(Dear me, what a number of pins, to be sure!) I have done what lay in
+my power with a clothes-brush and emery-powder to restore it to its
+pristine brilliance.  The treatment (That is the last, I think) has
+not, I am bound to admit, answered my expectations; its result,
+however, is as you see."
+
+Here Mr. Fogo withdrew the wrapper and with a pleasant smile held
+out--a cocked hat.
+
+The Admiral, purple with fury, bounced back like a shot on a red-hot
+shovel; stared; tried to speak, but could not; gulped; tried again;
+and finally, shaking his fist in Mr. Fogo's face, flung into the
+house and slammed the front door.
+
+The cause of this transport turned a pair of bewildered spectacles on
+the others, and found them convulsed with unseemly mirth.  He singled
+out the Honourable Frederic, and addressed himself to that gentleman.
+
+"I have not the pleasure to be acquainted with you, sir; but if you
+can supply me with any reason for this display of temper, believe
+me--"
+
+"My name is Goodwyn-Sandys, sir, at your--"
+
+"What!"
+
+Mr. Fogo dropped the cocked hat and sat down suddenly among the
+cakes.
+
+"Are you," he gasped--"are you Mr. Goodwyn-Sandys--the Honourable
+Frederic Augustus Hythe Good--?  Heavens!"
+
+"No, sir," said the Honourable Frederic, who had grown a thought
+pale.  "Good _wyn_, sir--Goodwyn-Sandys.  What then?"
+
+"I never saw your face before," murmured Mr. Fogo faintly.
+
+"That, sir, if a misfortune, is one which you share with a number of
+your fellow-men.  And permit me to tell you, sir," continued Mr.
+Goodwyn-Sandys, with unaccountable change of mood, "that I consider
+your treatment of my friend Admiral Buzza unworthy of a gentleman,
+sir--unworthy of a gentleman.  Come, Doctor; come, Pellow--I want a
+word or two more with you about this Club."
+
+And Mr. Goodwyn-Sandys ruffled away, followed by his two slightly
+puzzled companions.
+
+For the space of two minutes Mr. Fogo gazed up the road after them.
+Then he sighed, took off his spectacles, and wiped them carefully.
+
+"So _that_," he said slowly, "is the man she married."
+
+"Iss, sir."
+
+Mr. Fogo started, turned round on the barrow, and beheld the urchin
+from the "Man-o'-War."
+
+"Little boy," he said sternly, "your conduct is unworthy of a--I
+mean, what are you doing here?"
+
+"You've a-been an' squashed a cake," said the boy.
+
+Mr. Fogo gave him a shilling, and hurried away down the road; but
+stopped once or twice on his homeward way to repeat to himself--
+
+"So _that_--is the man--she married."
+
+
+
+It took Admiral Buzza several days to recover his composure; but when
+he did, the project of the new Club grew with the conjugal
+disintegration of Troy, and at a rate of progress scarcely inferior.
+Within a week or two a house was hired in Nelson Row, a brass-plate
+bearing the words "Trojan Club" affixed to the door, and Admiral
+Buzza installed in the Presidential Chair.  The Presidential Chair
+occupied the right-hand side of the reading-room window, which
+overlooked the harbour; and the Presidential duties consisted mainly
+in conning the morning papers and discussing their contents with Mr.
+Goodwyn-Sandys, who usually sat, with a glass of whiskey and the Club
+telescope, on the left-hand side of the window.  Indeed, it would be
+hard to say to which of the two, the whiskey or the telescope, the
+Honourable Frederic more sedulously devoted himself: it is certain,
+at least, that under the Admiral's instruction he soon developed a
+most amazing familiarity with nautical terms, was a mine of
+information (almost as soon as the Club invested in a Yacht Register)
+on the subject of Lord Sinkport's yacht, the auxiliary screw _Niobe_,
+and swept the horizon with a persistence that made his fellow-members
+stare.
+
+But the most noticeable feature in this nautical craze was the
+disproportionate attention which the Honourable Frederic lavished on
+barques.  It was the first rig that he learnt to distinguish, and his
+early interest developed before long into something like a passion.
+
+One morning, for instance, Sam Buzza lounged into the reading-room
+and observed--
+
+"I say, have you seen that American barque that came in last night--
+the _Maritana?_"
+
+"What name?" asked Mr. Goodwyn-Sandys, looking up suddenly.
+
+"The _Maritana_, or the _Mariana_, or _Mary Ann_, or something of
+the--Hullo!  what's wrong?"
+
+But the Honourable Frederic had caught up his hat and fled.  Half an
+hour afterwards, when he returned, his usual calm self, the little
+Doctor took occasion to remark, "Upon my word, you might be a
+detective, you keep such a look-out on the harbour"--a remark which
+caused Mr. Goodwyn-Sandys to laugh so consumedly that the Doctor,
+without exactly seeing the point, began to think he had perpetrated
+quite a considerable joke.
+
+But let no one imagine that the disruption of Trojan morals avoided
+heart-burning or escaped criticism.  For the line which Mr.
+Goodwyn-Sandys declared must be drawn somewhere was found not only to
+bisect the domestic hearth, but to lead to a surprising number of
+social problems.  It fell across the parallels of our small society,
+and demonstrated that Mrs. A and Mrs. B could never meet; that one
+room could not contain the two unequal families X and Y; and that
+while one rested on the basis of trade, and the other on professional
+skill, it was unreasonable to expect the apex Mrs. Y to coincide with
+the apex Mrs. X.  Finally the New Geometry culminated in a triumphant
+process, which proved that while Mrs. Simpson was allowed to imbibe
+tea and scandal in the company of the great, her husband must sip his
+gin and water in solitude at home.
+
+We had always been select in Troy; but then, In the old days, _all_
+Troy had been included in the term.  When Mr. Simpson had spoken of
+the "Jack of Oaks" (meaning the Knave of Clubs), or had said
+"fainaiguing" (where others said "revoking"), we had pretended not to
+notice it, until at length we actually did not.  So that a human as
+well as a philological interest attaches to the date when fashion
+narrowed the meaning of _Cumeelfo_ to exclude the Jack of Oaks, and
+sent Mr. Simpson home to his gin and water.
+
+The change was discussed with some asperity in the bar-parlour of the
+"Man-o'-War."
+
+"The hupper classes in Troy es bloomin' fine nowadays," remarked
+Rechab Geddye (locally known as Rekkub) over his beer on the night
+when the resignations of Mr. Buzza Junior and Mr. Moggridge had been
+received by the "Jolly Trojans."
+
+"Ef they gets the leastest bit finer, us shan't be able to see mun,"
+answered Bill Odgers, who was reckoned a wit.  "I have heerd tell as
+Trojans was cousins an' hail-fellow-well-met all the world over; but
+the hayleet o' this place es a-gettin' a bit above itsel'."
+
+"That's a true word, Bill," interposed Mrs. Dymond from the bar; "an'
+to say 'Gie us this day our daily bread,' an' then turn up a nose at
+good saffron cake es flyin' i' the face o' Pruvvidence, an' no less."
+
+"I niver knawed good to come o' titled gentry yet," said Bill.
+
+"You doan't say that?" exclaimed Rekkub, who was an admirer of Bill's
+Radical views.
+
+"I do, tho'.  Look at King Richard--him i' the play-actin'.  I reckon
+he was wan o' the hupper ten ef anybody.  An' what does he do?
+Why, throttles a pair o' babbies, puts a gen'l'm'n he'd a gridge agen
+into a cask o' wine--which were the spoliation o' both--murders 'most
+ivery wan he claps eyes on, an' then when he've a-got the jumps an'
+sees the sperrits an' blue fire, goes off an' offers to swap hes
+whole bloomin' kingdom for a hoss--a hoss, mind you, he hadn' seen,
+let alone not bein' in a state o' mind to jedge hoss-flesh.
+What's true o' kings I reckon es true o' Hon'rubbles; they'm all
+reared up to the same high notions, an' I reckon us'll find et out
+afore long.  I niver seed no good in makin' Troy fash'nubble mysel'."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII.
+
+
+THE SIGNIFICANCE OF POMEROY'S CAT; AND HOW THE MEN AND WOMEN OF TROY
+ENSUED AFTER PLEASURE IN BOATS.
+
+The historian of Troy here feels at liberty to pass over six weeks
+with but scanty record.  During that time the Bankshire rose bloomed
+over Kit's House, peered in at the windows, and found Mr. Fogo for
+the most part busied in peaceful carpentry, though with a mysterious
+trouble in his breast that at times drove him afield on venturous
+perambulations, or to his boat to work off by rowing his
+too-meditative fit.  From these excursions he would return tired in
+body but in heart eased, and resume his humdrum life tranquilly
+enough; though Caleb was growing uneasy, and felt it necessary, more
+than once, to retire apart and "have et out," as he put it, with his
+conscience.
+
+"Question es," he would repeat, "whether I be justyfied in meddlin'
+wi' the Cou'se o' Natur'--'speshully when the Cou'se o' Natur' es
+sich as I approves.  An' s'posin' I bain't, furder question es,
+whether I be right in receivin' wan pound a week an' a new set o'
+small-clothes."
+
+This nice point in casuistry was settled for the time by his waiving
+claim to the small-clothes, and inserting in his old pair a patch of
+blue seacloth that contrasted extravagantly with the veteran stuff--
+so extravagantly as to compel Mr. Fogo's attention.
+
+"Does it never strike you," he asked one day as Caleb was stooping
+over the wood-pile, "that the repairs in your trousers, Caleb, are a
+trifle emphatic?  _Purpureus, late qui splendeat_--h'm, h'm--
+_adsuitur pannus_.  I mean, in the seat of your--"
+
+"Conscience, sir," said Caleb abruptly.  "Some ties a bit o' string
+round the finger to help the mem'ry.  I does et this way."
+
+"Well, well, I should have thought it more apt to assist the memory
+of others.  Still, of course, you know best."
+
+And Mr. Fogo resumed his work, and thought no more about it; but
+Caleb alternated between moods of pensiveness and fussy energy for
+some days after.
+
+In Troy, summer was leading on a train of events not to be classed
+among periodic phenomena.  It stands on record, for instance--
+
+That Loo began to be played at the Club, and the Admiral's weekly
+accounts to grow less satisfactory than in the days when he and Mrs.
+Buzza were steadfast opponents at Whist.
+
+That Mrs. Simpson discovered her great uncle to have been a baronet
+on this earth.
+
+That Mrs. Payne had prefixed "Ellicome" to her surname, and spoke of
+"_the_ Ellicome-Paynes, you know."
+
+That Mr. Moggridge had been heard to speak of Sam Buzza as a
+"low fellow."
+
+That Sam had retorted by terming the poet a "conceited ass."
+
+And--
+
+That Admiral Buzza intended a Picnic.
+
+To measure the importance of this last item, you must know that a
+Trojan picnic is no ordinary function.  To begin with, it is
+essentially patriotic--devoted, in fact, to the cult of the Troy
+river, in honour of which it forms a kind of solemn procession.
+Undeviating tradition has fixed its goal at a sacred rock, haunted of
+heron and kingfisher, and wrapped around with woodland, beside a
+creek so tortuous as to simulate a series of enchanted lakes.
+Here the self-respecting Trojan, as his boat cleaves the solitude,
+will ask his fellows earnestly and at regular intervals whether they
+ever beheld anything more lovely; and they, in duty bound and
+absolute truthfulness, will answer that they never did.
+
+It follows that a Trojan picnic depends for its success to quite a
+peculiar degree upon the weather.  But on the day of the Admiral's
+merry-making, this was, beyond cavil, kind.  Four boats started from
+the Town Quay; four boats--alas!--could by this time contain the
+_cumeelfo_ of Troy; for everybody who was anybody had been invited,
+and nobody (with the exception of the Honourable Frederic, who could
+not leave his telescope) had refused.  Sam Buzza did not start with
+the rest, but was to follow later; and in his absence Mr. Moggridge
+paid impressive court to Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys, though uneasily, for
+Sophia's saddened eyes were upon him.
+
+Yet everybody seemed in the best of spirits and tempers.
+The Admiral, after bestowing his wife in another boat, and glaring
+vindictively at Kit's House, where the figure of Mr. Fogo was visible
+on the beach, grew exceedingly jocose, and cracked his most admired
+jokes, including his famous dialogue with the echo just beyond Kit's
+House--a performance which Miss Limpenny declared she had seldom
+heard him give with such spirit.  She herself, spurred to emulation,
+told her favourite story, which began, "In the Great Exhibition of
+Eighteen Hundred and Fifty-one, when her Majesty--long may she
+reign!--partook of a public luncheon--" and contained a most
+diverting incident about a cherry-pie.  And always, at decent
+intervals, she would exclaim--
+
+"Did you ever see anything more lovely?"
+
+To which the Admiral as religiously would reply--
+
+"Really, I never did."
+
+Indeed the scene was, as Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys, in another boat,
+observed, "Like a poet's dream"--a remark at which Mr. Moggridge
+blushed very much.  I wish I could linger and describe with amorous
+precision the bright talk, the glories of the day, each bend and
+vista of the river which I have loved from childhood; but amid the
+stress of events now crowding with epic vehemence on Troy, the Muse
+must hasten.  Fain would she dally over the disembarkation, the
+feast, the manner in which Admiral Buzza carved the chicken-pie, and
+his humorous allusion to the merry thought; or dwell upon the salad
+compounded by Mr. Moggridge, the spider that was found in it, and the
+conundrum composed upon that singular occurrence; or loiter to tell
+how Miss Lavinia upset the claret cup over the Vicar's coat-tails,
+and, in her confusion, said it "did not signify," which was very
+amusing.  On this, and more, would she blithely discourse, did not
+sterner themes invite her.
+
+It happened that on this particular morning Mr. Fogo had been
+restless beyond his wont.  For a full hour he had wandered on the
+beach, as Caleb expressed it, "Back'ards an' forrards, like Boscas'le
+Fair."  He had taken up mallet and chisel; had set them down at the
+end of half an hour for his paintbox, and ruined a well-meaning
+sketch of the previous day; had deserted this in turn for another
+ramble on the beach, and finally returned, with a helpless look, to
+Caleb, who sat whistling and splicing a rope upon the little quay.
+
+"Hurried in mind, sir, like Pomeroy's cat," suggested he
+sympathetically.
+
+"I have no acquaintance with the animal you mention," said his
+master.
+
+"I reckon 'twas she as got killed by care, sir.  I niver knawed
+mysel' but wan animal as got downright put-goin' i' that way, an'
+that were a hen."
+
+"A hen?"
+
+"Iss, sir.  Et happen'd up to Penhellick, the las' year I stayed
+'long wi' Lawyer Mennear.  'Twas a reg'lar fool-body, this hen--a
+black Minorcy she were; but no egg iver laid were fuller o' meat than
+she o' good-feelin'; an' prenciple! she'd enuff prenciple to stock a
+prayer-meetin'.  But high prenciple in a buffllehead's like a
+fish-bone i' the throat--useful, but out o' place.
+
+"Well, sir, th' ould Mennear wan day bought a baker's dozen of
+porc'lain eggs over to Summercourt Fair: beautiful eggs they were,
+an' you cudn' tell mun from real, 'cept by the weight.  The very nex'
+day, findin' as hes Minorcy were layin' for a brood i' the loft above
+the cowshed, he takes up the true egg while the old fowl were away
+an' sets a porc'lain egg in place of et.  In cou'se, back comes the
+hen, an' bein' a daft body, as I told 'ee, an' not used to these 'ere
+refinements o' civilizashun, niver doubts but 'tes the same as she
+laid.  'Twarn't long afore her'd a-laid sax more, and then her sets
+to work to hatch mun out.
+
+"Nat'rally, arter a while the brood was all hatched out, 'ceptin', o'
+cou'se, the porc'lain egg.  The mother didn't take no suspishun but
+'twere all right, on'y a bit stubborn.  So her sot down for two days
+more, an' did all a hen cud do to hatch that chick.  No good; 'twudn'
+budge.  You niver seed a fowl that hurted in mind; but niver a
+thought o' givin' in.  No, sir.  'Twasn' her way.  Her jes' cocked
+her head aslant, tuk a long stare at the cussed thing, an' said, so
+plain as looks cud say, 'Well, I've a-laid this egg, an' I reckon
+I've a-got to hatch et; an' ef et takes me to th' aluminium, I'll see
+et out.'"
+
+"The millennium," corrected Mr. Fogo, who was much interested.
+
+"Not bein' over-eddicated, sir," said Caleb, with unconscious
+severity, "that old hen, I reckon, said 'aluminium.'  But niver mind.
+Her sot, an' sot, an' kept on settin', an' neglected the rest o' they
+chicks for what seemingly to her was the call o' duty, till wan' by
+wan they all died.  'Twas pitiful, sir; an' the wust was to see her
+lay so much store by that egg.  Th' ould Mennear was for takin' et
+away; but 'twud ha' broke her heart.  As 'twas, what wi' anxi'ty an'
+too little food, her wore to a shadow.  I seed her was boun' to die,
+anyway; an' wan arternoon, as I was in the cowshed, I heerd a weakly
+sort o' cluckin' overhead, an' went up to look.  'Twas too late, sir.
+Th' ould hen was lying beside th' egg, glazin' at et in a filmy sort
+o' way, an' breathin' terrable hard.  When I comes, she gi'es a look
+same as to say, 'I reckon I've a-got to go.  I've a-been a mother to
+that there egg; an' I'd ha' liked to see't through afore I went.
+But, seemingly, 'twarn't ordained.'  An' wi' that there was a kind o'
+flutter, an' when I turned her over I seed her troubles were done.
+Thet fowl, sir, had _passed_."
+
+"You tell the story with such sympathy, Caleb, that I appeal to you
+the more readily for advice.  I find it hard to concentrate my
+attention this morning."
+
+"Ef I mou't make free to shake 'ee agen--"
+
+"I should prefer any other cure."
+
+"Very well, sir.  I _have_ heerd, from trippers as comes to Troy, to
+spend the day an' get drunk in anuther parish for vari'ty's sake, as
+a pennorth o' say es uncommon refreshin'."
+
+"A pennyworth of sea?"
+
+"That's so, sir.  Twelve in a boat, an' a copper a head to the
+boatman to row so far as there an' back, which es cheap an' empt'in'
+at the price, as a chap told me."
+
+"You advise me to take a row?"
+
+"Iss, sir; on'y I reckon you'd best go up the river, ef you'm goin'
+alone.  Though whether you prefers the resk o' meetin' Adm'ral Buzza
+to bein' turned topsy-versy outside the harbour-mouth, es a question
+I leaves to you.  'Tes a matter o' taste, as Mounseer said by the
+yaller frog."
+
+Mr. Fogo decided to risk an encounter with the Admiral.  In a few
+minutes he was afloat, and briskly rowing in the wake of the
+picnic-party.
+
+But black Care, that clambers aboard the sea-going galley, did not
+disdain a seat in the stern of Mr. Fogo's boat.  She sat her down
+there, and would not budge for all his pulling.  Neither could the
+smile of the clear sky woo her thence, nor the voices of the day; but
+as on ship-board she must still be talking to the man at the wheel,
+and on horseback importunately whispering to the rider from her
+pillion, so now she besieged the ear of Mr. Fogo, to whom her very
+sex was hateful.
+
+Further and further he rowed in vain attempt to shake off this
+incubus; passed at some distance the rock where the picnickers had
+spread their meal (luckily, the Admiral's back was turned to the
+river), doubled the next bend, ran his boat ashore on a little patch
+of shingle overarched with trees, and, stepping out, sat down to
+smoke a pipe.
+
+Secure from observation, he could hear the laughter of the picnickers
+borne melodiously through the trees; and either this or the tobacco
+chased his companion from his side; for his brow cleared, the puffs
+of smoke came more calmly, and before the pipe was smoked out, Mr.
+Fogo had sunk into a most agreeable fit of abstraction.
+
+
+He was rudely aroused by the sound of voices close at hand.
+Indeed, the speakers were but a few yards off, on the bank above him.
+
+Now Mr. Fogo was the last man to desire to overhear a conversation.
+But the first word echoed so aptly his late musings, and struck his
+memory, too, with so deep a pang, that before he recovered it was too
+late.
+
+"Geraldine!"
+
+"Oh! why is it?"--(it was a woman's voice that asked the question,
+though not the voice that Mr. Fogo had half expected to hear, and his
+very relief brought a shudder with it)--"oh! why is it that a man and
+a woman cannot talk together except in lies?  You ask if I am
+unhappy.  Say what you mean.  Do I hate my husband?  Well, then--yes!"
+
+"My dear Mrs.--"
+
+"Is that frank enough?  Oh! yes, I have lied so consistently
+throughout my married life that I tell the truth now out of pure
+weariness.  I detest him: sometimes I feel that I must kill either
+Fred or myself, and end it all."
+
+"Bless my soul!" murmured Mr. Fogo, cowering more closely.
+"This country teems with extraordinary people!"
+
+He held his breath as the deeper voice answered--
+
+"Had I thought--"
+
+"Stop!  I know what you would say, and it is untrue.  Be frank as I
+am.  You had half-guessed my secret, and were bound to convince
+yourself: and why?  Shall I tell you, or will you copy my candour and
+speak for yourself?"
+
+Dead silence followed this question.  After some seconds the woman's
+voice resumed--
+
+"Ah! all men are cowards.  Well, I will tell you.  Your question
+implied yet another, and it was, Do I, hating my husband, love you?"
+
+"Geraldine!"
+
+"Do you still wish that question answered?  I will do you that favour
+also: Listen: for the life of me--I don't know."
+
+And the speaker laughed--a laugh full of amused tolerance, as though
+her confession had left her a careless spectator of its results.
+Mr. Fogo shuddered.
+
+"In heaven's name, Geraldine, don't mock me!"
+
+"But it is true.  How _should_ I know? You have talked to me, read me
+your verses--and, indeed, I think them very beautiful.  You have with
+comparative propriety, because in verse, invited me to fly with thee
+to a desolate isle in the Southern Sea--wherever that is--and
+forgetting my shame and likewise blame, while you do the same with
+name and fame and its laurel-leaf, go to moral grief on a coral
+reef--"
+
+"Geraldine, you are torturing me."
+
+"Do I not quote correctly?  My point is this:--A woman will listen to
+talk, but she admires action.  Prove that you are ready, not to fly
+to a coral reef, but to do me one small service, and you may have
+another answer."
+
+"Name it."
+
+Mr. Fogo, peering through the bushes as one fascinated, saw an
+extremely beautiful woman confronting an extremely pale youth, and
+fancied also that he saw a curious flash of contempt pass over the
+woman's features as she answered--
+
+"Really unless you kill the Admiral next time he makes a pun, I do
+not know that just now I need such a service.  By to-morrow, though,
+or the next day, I may think of one.  Until then"--she held out her
+hand--"wait patiently, and be kind to Sophia."
+
+Mr. Moggridge started as though stung by a snake; but, recollecting
+himself, imprinted a kiss upon the proffered fingers.  Again Mrs.
+Goodwyn-Sandys laughed with unaffected mirth, and again the hidden
+witness saw that curious gleam of scorn--only now, as the young man
+bent his head, it was not dissembled.
+
+They were gone.  Mr. Fogo sank back against the bushes, drew a long
+breath, and passed his hand nervously over his eyes; but though the
+scene had passed as a dream, the laugh still rang in his ears.
+
+"It is a judgment on me!" muttered the poor man--"a judgment!
+They are all alike."
+
+Curiously enough, his next reflection appeared to contradict this
+view of the sex.
+
+"An extraordinary woman!  But every fresh person I meet in this place
+is more eccentric than the last.  Let me see," he continued, checking
+off the list on his fingers; "there's Caleb, and that astounding
+Admiral, and the Twins, and Tamsin--"
+
+Mr. Fogo stared very hard at the water for some seconds.
+
+"And Tamsin," he repeated slowly.  "Hullo! my feet seem to be in the
+water--and, bless my soul! what has become of the boat?"
+
+He might well ask.  The tide had been steadily rising as he crouched
+under the banks, and was now lapping his boots.  Worse than this, it
+had floated off the boat, which he had carelessly forgotten to
+secure, and drifted it up the river, at first under cover of the
+trees, afterwards more ostentatiously into mid-channel.
+
+Mr. Fogo rushed up the patch of shingle until brought to a standstill
+by its sudden declension into deep water.  There was no help for it.
+Not a soul was in sight.  He divested himself rapidly of his clothes,
+piled them in a neat little heap beyond reach of the tide, and then
+with considerable spirit plunged into the flood and struck out in
+pursuit of the truant.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV.
+
+
+OF A LADY OF SENSIBILITY THAT, BEING AWKWARDLY PLACED, MIGHT EASILY
+HAVE SET MATTERS RIGHT, BUT DID NOT: WITH MUCH BESIDE.
+
+It is hardly necessary by this time to inform my readers that Miss
+Priscilla Limpenny was a lady of sensibility.  We have already seen
+her obey the impulse of the heart rather than the cool dictates of
+judgment: her admiration of natural beauty she has herself confessed
+more than once during the voyage up the river.  But lest more than a
+due share of this admiration should be set down to patriotism, I wish
+to put it on record that she possessed to an uncommon degree an
+appreciative sense of the poetic side of Nature.  She was familiar
+with the works of Mrs. Hemans and L. E. L., and had got by heart most
+of the effusions in "Affection's Keepsake" and "Friendship's
+Offering."  Nay, she had been, in her early youth, suspected, more
+than vaguely, of contributing fugitive verse to a periodical known as
+the _Household Packet_.  She had even, many years ago, met the Poet
+Wordsworth "at the dinner-table," as she expressed it, "of a common
+friend," and was never tired of relating how the great man had spoken
+of the prunes as "pruins," and said "Would you obleege me with the
+salt?"
+
+With such qualifications for communion with nature it is not
+wonderful that, on this particular afternoon, Miss Limpenny should
+have wandered pensively along the river's bank, and surrendered
+herself to its romantic charm.  Possessed by the spirit of the place
+and hour, she even caught herself straying by the extreme brink, and
+repeating those touching lines from "Affection's Keepsake":--
+
+    "The eye roams widely o'er glad Nature's face,
+        To mark each varied and delightful scene;
+     The simple and magnificent we trace,
+        While loveliness and brightness intervene;
+     Oh!  everywhere is something found to--"
+
+At this point Miss Limpenny's gaze lost its dreamy expansiveness, and
+grew rigid with horror.  Immediately before her feet, and
+indelicately confronting her, lay a suit of man's clothing.
+
+It is a curious fact, though one we need not linger to discuss, that
+while clothes are the very symbol and first demand of decency, few
+things become so flagrantly immodest when viewed in themselves and
+apart from use.  The crimson rushed to Miss Limpenny's cheek.
+She uttered a cry and looked around.
+
+Inexorable fate, whose compulsion directed that gaze!  If raiment
+apart from its wearer be unseemly, how much more--
+
+About thirty yards from her, wading down the stream, and tugging the
+painter of his recovered boat, advanced Mr. Fogo.
+
+To add a final touch of horror, that gentleman, finding that the damp
+on his spectacles completely dimmed his vision, had deposited them in
+the boat, and was therefore blind to the approaching catastrophe.
+Unconscious even of observation, he advanced nearer and nearer.
+
+Miss Limpenny's emotion found vent in a squeal.
+
+Mr. Fogo, heard, halted, and gazed blankly around.
+
+"How singular!" he murmured.  "I could have sworn I heard a cry."
+
+He made another step.  The sound was repeated, more shrilly.
+
+"Again!  And, dear me, it sounds human--as of some fellow-creature in
+distress."
+
+"Go away!  Go away at once!"
+
+"Eh?  Bless my soul, what can it be?"  Mr. Fogo stared in the
+direction whence the voice proceeded, but of course without seeing
+anything.
+
+"I beg your pardon?" he observed mildly.
+
+"Go away!"
+
+"If you will allow me--" he began, courteously addressing vacancy.
+
+"Monster!"
+
+The awful truth began to dawn upon him, and was followed by a hasty
+impulse to dive.
+
+"If," he stammered, "I am right in supposing myself to address a
+lady--"
+
+"Don't talk to me, but go away."
+
+"I was about to ask permission to resume my spectacles, which I have
+unfortunately laid aside."
+
+"No, no.  That would be worse.  Oh! go away at once."
+
+"Pardon me, madam.  I am aware that spectacles are insufficient as
+a--I mean, I did not propose to consider them in the light of a
+costume, but as an assistance to my sight, without which--"
+
+"Oh! I shall faint."
+
+"Without which it will be impossible for me to extricate myself
+from this extremely unfortunate situation.  I am notoriously
+short-sighted, madam, and at this distance could not tell you from
+Adam--I should say, from Eve," continued Mr. Fogo, desperately
+reaching out for his spectacles and adjusting them.
+
+By the imperfect glimpse which he obtained through the glasses
+(which were still damp) he was almost moved to adopt his first
+impulse of deserting the boat and diving.  But even if he swam away
+the case would be no better, for this unreasonable female stood
+sentry beside his clothes.
+
+"If I might make a suggestion, madam--"
+
+But by this time Miss Limpenny had broken forth into a series of sobs
+and plaintive cries for protection.  Alas! the rest of the
+picnic-party were deep within the woods, and out of hearing.
+
+"Believe me, my dear madam--"
+
+"I am not your dear madam."
+
+"I have no other intention than to get out of this."
+
+"Ah! he confesses it."
+
+"I assure you--"
+
+"Will no one protect me?" wailed the lady, wringing her hands and
+sobbing anew.  But help was near, though from an unexpected quarter.
+
+
+[Illustration: "Will no one protect me?" wailed the lady . . .]
+
+
+"Hulloa!" cried a voice on the bank above, "what be all this?"
+
+And Peter Dearlove pushed aside the bushes and descended to the
+shingle, closely followed by Paul.  He was just in time, for Miss
+Limpenny, with a thankful little cry, staggered and fell fainting
+into his arms.
+
+"Mercy 'pon us!" exclaimed Peter, seeing only the lady, and not at
+first the cause of her distress, "'tes Miss Limpenny."
+
+"Well, I'm jiggered!" ejaculated Paul, "so 'tes."
+
+The Twins bent over the lady, and looked at each other in dismay.
+To Mr. Fogo the tableau might have borne a ridiculous likeness to
+that scene in _Cymbeline_ where Guiderius and Arviragus stoop over
+the unconscious Imogen.  But Mr. Fogo, as he stood neck-high in
+water, was far beyond drawing any such comparison; and Peter, instead
+of adjuring Miss Limpenny to fear no more the heat o' the sun,
+accinged himself to the practical difficulty.
+
+"Did 'ee iver hear tell o' what's best to be done when a leddy's took
+like this?" he asked his brother.
+
+"No," answered Paul; "Tamsin was niver took this way.  But that there
+little book us used to study when her had the whoopin'-cough an'
+measles wud likely tell all about et; I wish 'twas here.  Wait a bit.
+I remembers the 'Instructions for Discoverin' th' Appariently
+Drownded.'  Do 'ee reckon Miss Limpenny here es 'appariently
+drownded'?"
+
+"Why, no."
+
+"I don't think so nuther.  Ef she was," added Paul regretfully,
+"you'd have to be extry partic'lar not to roll her body 'pon casks.
+That was a great p'int."
+
+"'Tes a long step round to fetch that book," sighed Peter.
+
+"An' terrable long words i' th' index when you've got et.  Stop, now:
+es et faintin', do 'ee think?"
+
+"Well," answered Paul thoughtfully, "et _mou't_ be faintin'."
+
+"'Cos, ef so, the best way es to hold the sufferer upsi-down an' dash
+cold water over the face."
+
+"That wud be takin' too much of a liberty, wudn' et, Paul?"
+
+But at this point the blood came trickling back into Miss Limpenny's
+cheeks; the eyelids fluttered, opened; she gasped a little, looked
+up, and--
+
+"Is he gone?" she asked in a weak whisper.
+
+"Gone?  Who, ma'am?"
+
+"The monster."
+
+"Light-headed yet,"  muttered Peter.  But following Miss Limpenny's
+stare the brothers caught sight of Mr. Fogo simultaneously, and for
+the first time.  Their mahogany faces grew sensibly paler.
+
+"Well, this beats cock-fightin'!"
+
+"Would you mind taking that lady away?" pleaded Mr. Fogo, through his
+chattering teeth; "I am very cold indeed, and wish to dress."
+
+"Oh! that voice again," sobbed Miss Limpenny; "please tell him to go
+away."
+
+Being nonplussed by these two appeals, Peter addressed his reply to
+his brother.
+
+"I dunno, Paul, as we've a-got to the bottom o' this; but I reck'n
+Mr. Fogo's been a-lettin' hes principles take 'n too far.  As for
+dislikin' womankind, 'tes in a way 'scuseable p'raps; but notices es
+wan thing, an' teasin' anuther."
+
+"That's so, Peter.  Ef 'tes a matter o' fash'n, tho', I dunno as
+we've any call to interfere, not knawin' what's what."
+
+"Ef you plaise, sir," shouted Peter, "Paul an' me wants to know
+whether you be a-doin' et by way o' bein' fash'nubble?"
+
+"I don't know what you mean.  I only wish to be allowed to get at my
+clothes.  I really am suffering considerably, being quite unused to
+these long immersions."
+
+Peter looked around and caught sight of the neat pile of Mr. Fogo's
+attire lying underneath the bank.  Light began to dawn on him; he
+turned to Miss Limpenny--
+
+"You'll excuse me, ma'am, but was you present by any chance when--?"
+
+"Heaven forbid!" she cried, and put her hands before her face.
+
+"Then, beggin' your pard'n, but how did you come here?"
+
+"I was wandering on the bank--and lost in thought--and came upon
+these--these articles.  And then--oh! I cannot, I cannot."
+
+"Furder question es," pursued Peter, with an interrogative glance at
+his brother, who nodded, "why not ha' gone away?"
+
+"Dear me!" exclaimed Miss Limpenny, "I never thought of it!"
+
+She gathered up her skirts, and disdaining the assistance of the
+gallant Paul, clambered up the bank, and with a formal bow left the
+Twins staring.  As she remarked tearfully to Lavinia that evening,
+"What one requires in these cases is presence of mind, my dear," and
+she heaved a piteous little sigh.
+
+"But consider," urged the sympathetic Lavinia, "your feelings at the
+moment.  I am sure that under similar circumstances"--she shuddered--
+"I should have behaved in precisely the same way."
+
+
+
+Mr. Fogo emerged in so benumbed a condition, his teeth chattered so
+loudly, and his nose had grown so appallingly blue, that the Twins,
+who had in delicacy at first retired to a little distance, were
+forced to return and help him into his clothes.  Even then, however,
+he continued to shiver to such an extent that the pair, after
+consulting in whispers for some moments, took off their coats,
+wrapped him carefully about, set him in the stern of his boat, and,
+jumping in themselves, pushed off and rowed rapidly homewards.
+
+Their patient endeavoured to express his thanks, but was gravely
+desired not to mention it.  For ten minutes or so the Twins rowed in
+silence, at the end of this time Paul suddenly dropped the bow oar;
+then, leaning forward, touched his brother on the shoulder and
+whispered one word--
+
+"Shenachrum."
+
+"Or Samson," said Peter.
+
+"I think poorly o' Samson."
+
+"Wi' hes hair on?"
+
+"Wi' or wi'out, I don't lay no store by Samson."
+
+"Very well, then--Shenachrum."
+
+The rowing was resumed, and Mr. Fogo left to speculate on these dark
+sayings.  But as the boat drew near the column of blue smoke that,
+rising from the hazels on the left bank, marked the whereabouts of
+the Dearloves' cottage, he grew aware of a picture that, perhaps by
+mere charm of composition, set his pulse extravagantly beating.
+
+At the gate above the low cliff, her frock of pink print distinct
+against the hazels, stood Tamsin Dearlove, and looked up the river.
+
+She was bare-headed; and the level rays of evening powdered her dark
+tresses with gold, and touched the trees behind into bronze.
+One hand shielded her eyes; the other rested on the half-open gate,
+and swayed it softly to and fro upon its hinge.  As she stood thus,
+some happy touch of opportunity, some trick of circumstance or
+grouping, must, I think, have helped Mr. Fogo to a conclusion he had
+been seeking for weeks.  It is certain that though he has since had
+abundant opportunities of studying Tamsin, and noting that untaught
+grace of body in which many still find the secret of her charm, to
+his last day she will always be for him the woman who stood, this
+summer evening, beside the gate and looked up the river.
+
+And yet, as the boat drew near, the pleasantest feature in the
+picture was the smile with which she welcomed her brothers, though it
+contained some wonder to see them in Mr. Fogo's boat, and gave place
+to quick alarm as she remarked the extreme blueness of that
+gentleman's nose and the extreme pallor of his other features.
+
+"Tamsin, my dear, es the cloth laid?"
+
+"Yes, Peter, and the kettle ready to boil."
+
+"We was thinkin' as Shenachrum would be suitin' Mr. Fogo better.
+He've met wi' an accident."
+
+"Again?"  There was something of disdain in her eyes as she curtseyed
+to him, but it softened immediately.  "You're kindly welcome, sir,"
+she added, "and the Shenachrum shall be ready in ten minutes."
+
+Within five minutes Mr. Fogo was seated by the corner of the hearth,
+and watching her as she heated the beer which, together with rum,
+sugar, and lemon, forms the drink known and loved by Trojans as
+Shenachrum.  The Twins had retired to wash in the little out-house at
+the back, and their splashing was audible every now and again above
+the crackling of the wood fire, which now, as before, filled the
+kitchen with fragrance.  Its warmth struck kindly into Mr. Fogo's
+knees, and coloured Tamsin's cheeks with a hot red as she bent over
+the flame.  He watched her profile in thoughtful silence for some
+moments, and then fell to staring at the glowing sticks and the
+shadows of the pot-hooks and hangers on the chimney-back.
+
+"So that is Shenachrum?" he said at last, to break the silence.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And what, or who, is Samson?"
+
+"Samson is brandy and cider and sugar."
+
+"With his hair on?"
+
+She laughed.
+
+"That means more brandy.  Samson was double as strong, you know, with
+his hair on."
+
+"I see."
+
+The silence was resumed.  Only the tick-tack of the tall clock and
+the splashing of the Twins disturbed it.  She turned to glance at him
+once, and then, seeing his gaze fixed upon the fire that twinkled on
+the rim of his spectacles and emphasised the hollows of his face, had
+looked for a moment more boldly before she bent over her task again.
+
+"She is quite beautiful, but--"
+
+He spoke in a dreamy abstracted tone, as if addressing the pot-hooks.
+Tamsin started, set down the pan with a clatter, and turned sharply
+round.
+
+"Eh?" said Mr. Fogo, aroused by the clatter, "you were saying--?"
+And then it struck him that he had spoken aloud.  He broke off, and
+looked up with appealing helplessness.
+
+There was a second's pause.
+
+"_You_ were saying--"
+
+The words came as if dragged from her by an effort.  Her eyes were
+full of wrath as she stood above him and waited for his reply.
+
+"I am very sorry," he stammered; "I never meant you to hear."
+
+"You were talking of--?"
+
+"Of you," he answered simply.  He was horribly frightened; but it was
+not in the man's nature to lie, or even evade the question.
+
+The straightforwardness of the reply seemed to buffet her in the
+face.  She put up a hand against the chimney-piece and caught her
+breath.
+
+"What is 'but'?" she asked with a kind of breathless vehemence.
+"Finish your sentence.  What right have you to talk of me?" she went
+on, as he did not reply.  "If I am not a lady, what is that to you?
+Oh!" she persisted, in answer to the swift remonstrance on his face,
+"I can end your sentence: 'She is quite beautiful, but--quite _low_,
+of course.'  What right have you to call me either--to speak of me at
+all?  We were content enough before you came--Peter and Paul and I.
+Why cannot you let us alone?  I hate you!  Yes, I hope there is no
+doubt now that I am low--hate you!"
+
+She stamped her foot in passion as two angry tears sparkled in her
+eyes.
+
+"Why, Tamsin!" cried Paul's voice at the door, "the Shenachrum not
+ready yet?  I niver knawed 'ee so long afore."
+
+She turned sharply, caught up the pan, and stooped over the fire
+again.  But the glow on her cheeks now was hotter than any fire could
+bring.
+
+"'Tes rare stuff, sir," said the Twin encouragingly, as Tamsin filled
+a steaming glass, and handed it, without a look, to Mr. Fogo.
+"Leastways, 'tes thought a deal of i' these parts by them as, wi'out
+bein' perlite, es yet reckoned jedges."
+
+Mr. Fogo took the glass and sipped bravely.  The stuff was so hot
+that tears sprang to his eyes, but he gulped it down, nevertheless.
+
+"An' now, sir," began Peter, who had joined the group, and was
+looking on approvingly, "Paul an' me was considerin' in the
+back-kitchen, an' agreed that makin' so bold as to ax 'ee, an' hopin'
+'twont' be thought over free, you must stay the night, seein' you've
+took this cold, an' the night air bein', as es well known, terrable
+apt to give 'ee inflammation."
+
+"We'd planned," put in Paul, "to go down wi' the boat to Kit's House
+an' fetch up your things, and tell Caleb about et, so's he shudn' be
+decomposed.  An' Tamsin'll tell 'ee there's a room at your sarvice,
+an' reckoned purty--lookin' on to the bee-skeps an' the orchard at
+the back," he explained with a meaning glance at Tamsin, who was
+silent.
+
+"Why, Tamsin, girl, what's amiss that you don't spake?" asked Peter;
+and then his amazement got the better of his tact, as he added in a
+stage whisper, "'Tes on'y to change rooms.  Paul an' me can aisy
+sleep down here afore the fire; an' us on'y offered your room as
+bein' more genteel--"
+
+"I assure you," broke in Mr. Fogo, "that I am quite recovered of my
+chill, thanks to your kindness, and would rather return--much rather:
+though I thank you all the same."  He spoke to the Twins, but kept
+his eyes on Tamsin.
+
+"No kindness at all," muttered Peter.  His face fell, and he, too,
+looked at the girl.
+
+Finding their eyes upon her, she was compelled to speak.
+
+"Mr. Fogo wudn' care for the likes o' what we cou'd offer him," she
+said.  Then, seeing the pain on the men's faces, she added with an
+effort to be gracious, "But ef he can put up wi' us, he knows he
+shall be made welcome."
+
+She did not look up, and her voice, in which the peculiar sing-song
+of Trojan intonation was intentionally emphasised, sounded so
+strangely that still greater amazement fell upon the Twins.
+
+"Why, Tamsin, I niver knawed 'ee i' this mood afore," stammered Paul.
+
+"I assure you," interposed Mr. Fogo, "that I value your hospitality
+more than I can say, and shall not forget it.  But it would be absurd
+to accept it when I am so near home.  If one of you would consent to
+row me down to Kit's House, it would be the exact kindness I should
+prefer."
+
+The Twins assented, though not without regret at his refusal to
+accept more.  Paul agreed to row him down, and the two started in the
+early twilight.  As he shook Peter's hand, Mr. Fogo looked at Tamsin.
+
+"Good-night," he said.
+
+"Good-night, sir."
+
+She did not offer to shake hands; she scarcely even looked up, but
+stood there before the chimney-place, with the fire-light outlining
+her form and throwing into deep shadow the side of her face that was
+towards him.  One arm was thrown up to grasp the mantelshelf, and
+against this her head rested.  The other hung listlessly at her side.
+And this was the picture Mr. Fogo carried out into the grey evening.
+
+As the door closed upon him, Peter sank into the stiff-backed chair
+beside the hearth with a puzzled sigh.
+
+"Why, Tamsin," he said, as he slowly drew out his pipe and filled it,
+"what ailed 'ee, girl, to behave like that?"
+
+Looking up, he saw a tear, and then a second, drop brightly on the
+hearth-stone.
+
+"Little maid!"
+
+Before he could say more she had stepped to him, and, sitting on the
+chair-arm, had flung her arms around his neck and drawn his head
+towards her, that he might not look into her face.
+
+"I hate him," she sobbed--"I hate him!  I wish I had never seen him.
+He despises us, and--and I was so happy before he came."
+
+The Twin set down his pipe upon his knee, and stared into the fire.
+
+"As for hatin', Tamsin," he said gravely, "'tain't right.  Us shud
+love our neighbours, Scriptur' says; an' I reckon that includes
+tenants.  I' the matter o' hes despisin' us, I dunno as you'm right
+nuther.  He's fash'nubble, o' cou'se; but very conformable,
+considerin'--very conformable.  You bain't sorry us let Kit's House,
+eh, Tamsin?  Not hankerin'--"
+
+"No, no."
+
+"I doubt, my dear, we'm poor hands to take care of 'ee, Paul an' me.
+Us talks et over togither at times, an' agrees 'twas wrong not to ha'
+sent 'ee away to school.  Us got a whack o' handbills down, wan time,
+from different places.  You wudn' believe et, my dear," he went on,
+with something like a laugh, "but Paul an' me a'most came to words
+over they handbills.  'Tes a curious fac', but at the places where
+they allowed most holidays, they was most partic'lar about takin'
+your own spoon and fork, an' Paul was a stickler agen that.  Et grew
+to be a matter o' prenciple wi' Paul that wheriver you went you
+shudn' take your own spoon and fork.  So us niver came to no
+understandin'.  I doubt 'twas selfish an' us can't understand maidens
+an' their ways; but say, my dear, ef there's anything can be set
+right, an' us'll try--"
+
+"No, no.  Let me sit here beside you, and I shall be better
+presently."
+
+She drew a low stool to his side, and sat with her head against his
+knee, and her dark eyes watching the fire.  Peter laid one hand
+gently on her hair, and wound the brown locks around his fingers.
+
+"All right now?" he asked, after several minutes had passed with no
+sound but the ticking of the clock.
+
+"All right beside you, brother.  It is always all right beside you."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV.
+
+
+HOW A LADY AND A YOUTH, BEING SEPARATED FROM THEIR COMPANY, VISITED A
+SHIP THAT HELD NOTHING BUT WATER.
+
+Mr. Fogo and Paul performed the journey back to Kit's House in
+silence; for Paul was yet wondering at his sister's behaviour, and
+Mr. Fogo busy with thoughts he could hardly have interpreted.
+As they drew near the little quay, they discerned through the
+darkness, now fast creeping over the river, a boat pushed off by a
+solitary figure that jumped aboard and began to pull towards them.
+
+"Ahoy, there!"  It was Caleb's voice.
+
+"Ahoy, Caleb!" shouted Paul in answer; "anything wrong?"
+
+"Have 'ee seen maaster?"
+
+"Iss, an' got un safe an' sound."
+
+Caleb peered through the gloom and descried Mr. Fogo.
+Whatever relief this may have been to his feelings, it called forth
+no expression beyond a grunt.  He turned his boat and pulled back in
+time to help his master ashore.  Paul was dismissed with some words
+of thanks which he declared unnecessary.  He would row back in Mr.
+Fogo's boat, he said, if he might be allowed, and would bring her
+down in the early morning.  With this and a hearty "Good-night" he
+left the pair to walk up to the house together.
+
+Caleb was unusually silent during supper, and when his master grew
+cheery and related the adventures of the day, offered no comment
+beyond a series of mysterious sounds expressing mental discontent
+rather than sympathy. Finally, when Mr. Fogo had finished he looked
+up and began abruptly--
+
+"Ef you plaise, sir, I wants to gie warnin'."
+
+"Give warning?"
+
+"Iss, sir; notiss to go." And Caleb stared fiercely at his master.
+
+"But, my dear Caleb, you surely don't mean--?"
+
+"I do, tho'."
+
+"Are you dissatisfied with the place or the wages?"
+
+"That's et, sir--the wages."
+
+"If they are too low--"
+
+"They bain't; they be a darned sight too high."
+
+Mr. Fogo leant back in his chair.
+
+"Too high!" he gasped.
+
+"Look 'ee here, sir: here be I, so lazy as La'rence, an' eatin' my
+head off 'pon a pund a week an' my small-clothes, on condishun I
+looks arter 'ee.  Very well; what happens?  'Tes Dearlove, Dearlove,
+Dearlove all the time.  Fust Tamsin brings 'ee back, and then Paul,
+an' nex' time I reckon 'twill be Peter's turn.  Where-_fore_, sir,
+seein' I can't offer to share wages wi' the Twins, much less wi'
+Tamsin, I wants to go."
+
+Caleb knocked the ashes out of his pipe, and, rising, stared at his
+master for some seconds and with much determination.
+
+Mr. Fogo argued the case for some time without effect.  But so
+sincerely did he paint his helplessness, and nervous aversion to new
+faces, that at length, after many pros and cons, Caleb consented to
+give him one more chance.  "But mind, sir," he added, "the nex' time
+you'm brought home by a Dearlove, 'go' 's the word."  On this
+understanding they retired to rest, but it was long before Mr. Fogo
+could shut his memory upon the panorama of the day's experiences.
+
+Let us return to the picnickers.  After what had passed between Mrs.
+Goodwyn-Sandys and Mr. Moggridge on the river's bank, it may seem
+strange that the lady should have chosen Sam Buzza to row her home,
+for the two youths were now declared rivals for her goodwill.
+But I think we may credit her with a purpose.
+
+At any rate, when the lengthening shadows and retreating tide hinted
+return, Sam, who had arrived late in a designedly small dingey, asked
+Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys to accompany him, and she, with little demur,
+complied.  It did not matter greatly, as propriety would be saved by
+their nearness to the larger boats; and so the party started
+together.
+
+But this arrangement, though excellent, did not last long; for,
+curiously enough, the dingey soon began to take a formidable lead of
+the next boat, in which the traitorous Moggridge was pulling stroke,
+and gazing, with what courage he could summon, into Sophia's eyes.
+Indeed, so quickly was the lead increased, that at the end of two
+miles the larger boats had shrunk to mere spots in the distance.
+
+The declining sun shone in Sam's eyes as he rowed, and his companion,
+with her sunshade so disposed as to throw her face into shadow,
+observed him in calm silence.  The sunshade was of scarlet silk, and
+in the softened light stealing through it her cheek gained all the
+freshness of maidenhood.  Her white gown, gathered about the waist
+with a band of scarlet, not only fitted her figure to perfection, but
+threw up the colour of her skin into glowing relief.  To Sam she
+appeared a miracle of coolness and warmth; and as yet no word was
+spoken.
+
+At length, and not until they had passed the Dearloves' cottage, she
+asked--
+
+"Why were you late?"
+
+"Was I missed?"
+
+"Of course.  You younger men of Troy seem strangely blind to your
+duties--and your chances."
+
+The last three words came as if by after-thought; Sam looked up
+quickly.
+
+"Chances?  You said 'chances,' I believe?"
+
+"I did.  Was there not Miss Saunders, for instance?"
+
+Sam's lip curled.
+
+"Miss Saunders is not a chance; she is a certainty.  Did she, for
+instance, announce that the beauty of the day made her sad--that even
+amid the wealth of summer something inside her whispered 'Autumn'?"
+
+"She did."
+
+"She always does; I have never picnicked with Miss Saunders but
+something inside her whispered 'Autumn'!"
+
+"A small bore," suggested Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys, "that never misses
+fire."
+
+Sam tittered and resumed--
+
+"If it comes to duties, your husband sets the example; he hasn't
+moved from the club window to-day."
+
+"Oh!" she exclaimed shortly, "I never asked you to imitate my
+husband."
+
+Sam ceased rowing and looked up; he was familiar with the tone, but
+had never heard it so emphasised before.
+
+"Look here," he said; "something's wrong, that's plain.  It's a rude
+question, but--does he neglect you?"
+
+She laughed with some bitterness, and perhaps with a touch of
+self-contempt.
+
+"You are right; it is a rude question: but--he does not."
+
+There was a moment's silence, and then she added--
+
+"So it's useless, is it not, to wish that he would?"
+
+The blood about Sam's heart stood still.  Were the words a confession
+or a sneer.  Did they refer to her or to him?  He would have given
+worlds to know, but her tone disclosed nothing.
+
+"You mean--?"
+
+She gave him no answer, but turned her head to look back.  In the
+distant boats they had fallen to singing glees.  In this they obeyed
+tradition: for there is one accomplishment which all Trojans
+possess--of fitting impromptu harmonies to the most difficult air.
+And still in the pauses of the music Miss Limpenny would exclaim--
+
+"Did you ever see anything more lovely?"
+
+And the Admiral would reply--
+
+"Really, I never did."
+
+Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys could not, of course, hear this.  But the voices
+of the singers stole down the river and touched her, it may be, with
+some sense of remorse for the part she was playing in this Arcadia.
+
+"We are leaving the others a long way behind," she said irresolutely.
+
+"Do you wish to wait for them?"
+
+For a moment she seemed about to answer, but did not.  Sam pulled a
+dozen vigorous strokes, and the boat shot into the reach opposite
+Kit's House.
+
+"That," she said, resting her eyes on the weather-stained front of
+Mr. Fogo's dwelling, "is where the hermit lives, is it not? I should
+like to meet this man that hates all women."
+
+Sam essayed a gallant speech, but she paid no heed to it.
+
+"What a charming creek that is, beyond the house!  Let us row up
+there and wait for the others."
+
+The creek was wrapped in the first quiet of evening.  There was still
+enough tide to mirror the tall trees that bent towards it, and
+reflect with a grey gleam one gable of the house behind.  Two or
+three boats lay quietly here by their moorings; beside them rested a
+huge red buoy, and an anchor protruding one rusty tooth above the
+water.  Where the sad-looking shingle ended, a few long timbers
+rotted in the ooze.  Nothing in this haunted corner spoke of life,
+unless it were the midges that danced and wheeled over the waveless
+tide.
+
+"Yonder lies the lepers' burial-ground," said Sam, and pointed.
+
+"I have heard of them" (she shivered); "and that?"
+
+She nodded towards the saddest ruin in this sad spot, the hull of
+what was once a queenly schooner, now slowly rotting to annihilation
+beside the further shore.  She lay helplessly canted to starboard,
+her head pointing up the creek.  Her timbers had started, her sides
+were coated with green weed; her rudder, wrenched from its pintle,
+lay hopelessly askew.  On her stern could still be read, in blistered
+paint, her name, "_The Seven Sisters_ of Troy." There she lay
+dismantled, with a tangle of useless rigging, not fit for saving,
+left to dangle from her bulwarks; and a quick fancy might liken her,
+as the tide left her, and the water in her hold gushed out through a
+dozen gaping seams, to some noble animal that had crept to this
+corner to bleed to death.
+
+Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys looked towards the wreck with curious interest.
+
+"I should like to examine it more closely," she said.
+
+For answer Sam pulled round the schooner, and let the boat drift
+under her overhanging side.
+
+"You can climb aboard if you like," he said, as he shipped the sculls
+and, standing up, grasped the schooner's bulwarks.  "Stop, let me
+make the painter fast."
+
+He took up the rope, swung himself aboard, and looped it round the
+stump of a broken davit; then bent down and gave a hand to his
+companion.  She was agile, and the step was of no great height; but
+Sam had to take both her hands before she stood beside him, and ah!
+but his heart beat cruelly quick.
+
+Once on board Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys displayed the most eager
+inquisitiveness, almost endangering her beautiful neck as she peered
+down into the hole where the water lay, black and gloomy.  She turned
+and walked aft with her feet in the scuppers, and her right hand
+pressed against the deck, so great was the cant on the vessel.
+It was uphill walking too, for the schooner was sagged in the waist,
+and the stern tilted up to a considerable height.  Nevertheless she
+reached the poop at last.  Sam followed.
+
+"I want to see the captain's cabin," she explained.
+
+Sam wondered, but led the way.  It was no easy matter to descend the
+crazy ladder, and in the cabin itself the light was so dim that he
+struck a match.  Its flare revealed a broken table, a horsehair
+couch, and a row of cupboards along the walls.  On the port side
+these had mostly fallen open, and the doors in some cases hung
+by a single hinge.  There was a terrible smell in the place.
+Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys looked around.
+
+"Does the water ever come up here?" she asked.
+
+Sam lit another match.
+
+"No," he said, stooping and examining the floor.
+
+"You are quite sure?"
+
+Her tone was so eager that he looked up.
+
+"Yes, I am quite sure; but why do you ask?"
+
+She did not answer: nor, in the faint light, could he see her face.
+After a moment's silence she said, as if to herself--
+
+"This is just the place."
+
+"For what?"
+
+"For--for an Irish jig," she laughed with sudden merriment.
+"Come, try a step upon these old timbers."
+
+"For heaven's sake take care!" cried Sam.  "There may be a trap-hatch
+where you stand, and these boards are rotten through and through.
+Ten minutes ago you were mournful," he added, in wonder at her change
+of mood.
+
+"Was I?" She broke out suddenly into elfish song--
+
+    "'Och!  Pathrick O'Hea, but I'm sad, Bedad!
+      Och!  darlint, 'tis bad to be sad.'
+        'Hwat's this?' says he.
+        'Why, a kiss,' says she.
+        ''Tis a cure,' says he.
+        'An' that's sure,' says she.
+     'Och!  Pat, you're a sinsible lad, Bedad!
+      Troth, Pat, you're a joole uv a lad!'"
+
+She broke off suddenly and shivered.
+
+"Come, let us go; this place suffocates me."
+
+She turned and ran up the crazy ladder.  At the top she turned and
+peered down upon the dumbfounded Sam.
+
+"Nobody comes here, I suppose?"
+
+"I should think not."
+
+"I mean, the owner never comes to--"
+
+"To visit his cargo?" laughed Sam.  "No, the owner is dead.  He was a
+wicked old miser, and I guess in the place where he is now he'd give
+a deal for the water in this ship; but I never heard he was allowed
+to come back for it."
+
+She leant her hands on the taffrail, and looked over the stern.
+
+"Hark!  There are the other boats.  Don't you hear the voices?
+They have passed us by, and we must make haste after them."
+
+She turned upon him with a smile.  Without well knowing what he did
+he laid his hand softly on her arm.
+
+"Stop, I want a word before you go."
+
+"Well?"
+
+Her large eyes, gleaming on him through the dusk, compelled and yet
+frightened him.  He trembled and stammered vaguely--
+
+"You said just now--you hinted, I mean--that you were unhappy with
+Mr.--with your husband.  Is that so?"
+
+It was the second time she had been asked the question to-day.
+A faint smile crossed her face.
+
+"Well?" she said again.
+
+"I mean," he answered with a nervous laugh, "I don't like to see it--
+and--I meant, if I could help you--"
+
+"To run away?  Will you help me to run away?"  Her eyes suddenly
+blazed upon him, and as she bent forward, and almost hissed the
+words, he involuntarily drew back a step.
+
+"Well," he stammered, "he's a good fellow, really, is your husband--
+he's been very good to me and all that--"
+
+"Ah!" she exclaimed, turning away, "I thought so.  Come, we are
+wasting time."
+
+"Stop!" cried Sam.
+
+But she had passed swiftly down the sloping deck and dropped into the
+boat without his assistance.  He followed unsteadily, untied the
+painter, and jumped down after her.  They rowed for some time in
+silence after the retreating picnickers.  Before they came abreast of
+the hindmost boat, however, Sam spoke--
+
+"Look here.  I can't help myself, and that's the truth.  If you want
+to run away I'll help you."  He groaned inwardly as he said it.
+
+She made no reply, but kept her eyes fixed on his face, as if
+weighing his words.  Nor, beyond a cool "Good-night" at parting on
+the quay, did another word pass between them.
+
+
+"What luck?" asked the Honourable Frederic as his wife entered the
+drawing-room of "The Bower."  He was stretched in an arm-chair before
+the fire, and turned with a glance of some anxiety at her entrance.
+
+She looked about her wearily, took off her hat, tossed it across to
+a table, and, sinking into the armchair opposite, began to draw off
+her gloves.
+
+"I'm sick to death of all this, me dear--of 'the Cause,' of Brady, of
+these people, of meself."
+
+Her face wore a grey look that made her seem a full ten years older.
+
+"Won't you include me in the list, my love?" asked her husband
+amiably.
+
+"I would," she replied, "only I've already said as much twice this
+very afternoon."
+
+She laughed a fatigued little laugh, and looked around her again.
+The drawing-room had greatly changed since first we visited it with
+Admiral Buzza, and the local tradesmen regarded Mr. Goodwyn-Sandys'
+account with some complacency as they thought of payment after
+Midsummer.  For the strangers were not of the class that goes to the
+Metropolis or to the Co-operative Stores; from the outset they had
+announced a warm desire to benefit the town of Troy.  This pretty
+drawing-room was one of the results, and it only wanted a certain
+number of cheques from the Honourable Frederic to make the excellence
+of the arrangement complete.
+
+Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys took a leisurely survey of the room while her
+husband awaited information.
+
+"The pote is hooked," she said at last, "an' so's Master Sam."
+
+"The poet is our first card," replied her husband, searching his
+pocket and producing a letter.  "The _Maryland_ should be here
+to-morrow or next day.  Upon my word, Nellie, I don't want to ask
+questions, but you've done exceedingly well."
+
+"Better than well, me dear.  I've found a _place_--an illigant hidin'
+in an owld schooner up the river."
+
+"Safe?"
+
+"As a church.  I'll take yez to't to-morra.  Master Sam tells me
+sorra a sowl goes nigh ut.  He tuk me to see ut.  I say, me darlint,
+I'd be lettin' that young fool down aisier than the pote.  He's a
+poor little snob, but he's more like a man than Moggridge."
+
+"He's a bad ass, is Moggridge," assented the Honourable Frederic.
+"Come, Nellie, we've a day's work before us, remember."
+
+A friend of mine, the son of steady-going Nihilist parents, and
+therefore an authority, assures me that the Honourable Frederic
+cannot have been a conspirator for the simple reason that he shaved
+his chin regularly.  Be this as it may, to-night he smiled
+mysteriously as he rose, and winked at his wife in a most plebeian
+way.  I regret to say that both smile and wink were returned.
+
+
+[Illustration: Winked . . . in a most plebeian way.]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI.
+
+
+OF STRATAGEMS AND SPOILS; AND THAT THE NOMINALISTS ERR WHO HOLD A
+THING TO BE WHAT IT IS CALLED.
+
+At two o'clock next morning Mr. Moggridge closed the door of his
+lodgings behind him, and stepping out into the street stood for some
+moments to ponder.
+
+A smile sat upon his lips, witness to pleasure that underlies poetic
+pains.  The Collector of Customs was in humour this morning, and had
+written thirty lines of Act IV.  of _Love's Dilemma: a Comedy_,
+before breakfast, for it was his custom to rise early and drink
+regularly of the waters of Helicon before seeking his office.
+It is curious that the Civil Service should so often divide its
+claims with the Service of the Muse.  I remember that the Honourable
+Frederic once drew my attention to this, and supplied me with several
+instances:--"There was What's-his-name, you know, and t'other Johnny
+up in the Lakes, and a heap I can't remember at the moment--fancy it
+must come from the stamps--licked off with the gum, perhaps."
+
+Be that as it may, Mr. Moggridge had written thirty lines this
+morning, and was even now, as he stood in the street and stared at
+the opposite house, repeating to himself a song he had just composed
+for his hero.  It is worth quoting, for, with slight alteration, I
+know no better clue to the poet's mood at the time.  The play has
+since been destroyed, for reasons of which some hint may be found in
+the next few chapters; but the unfinished song is still preserved
+among the author's notes, where it is headed--
+
+            A HYMN OF LOVE.
+
+    "Toiling lover, loose your pack,
+        All your sighs and tears unbind;
+     Care's a ware may break a back,
+        May not bend a maiden's mind.
+
+    "Loose, and follow to a land
+        Where the tyrant's only fee
+     Is the kissing of a hand
+        And the bending of a knee.
+
+    "In that State a man shall need
+        Neither priest nor lawgiver:
+     Those same slips that are his creed
+        Shall confess their worshipper.
+
+    "All the laws he must obey,
+        Now in force and now repealed,
+     Shift in eyes that shift as they--
+
+"'Shift as they,' 'shift as they,'" mused Mr. Moggridge.  "Let me
+see--"
+
+    'Till alike with kisses sealed.'
+
+"That was it.  With another verse, and a little polishing, I will take
+it to Geraldine and ask her--"
+
+At this point the poet glanced down the street, and, to his surprise,
+beheld Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys advancing towards him.
+
+"Good-morning," she nodded with a charming smile, "I was coming to
+look for you.  I have a favour to ask."
+
+"A favour?  Is it _the_--?"
+
+"Well, it's rather prosaic for _the_--" she laughed.  "In fact, it's
+_tea_."
+
+"Tea?"
+
+"Yes.  It's rather a long story; but it comes to this.  You see, Fred
+is very particular about the tea he drinks."
+
+"Indeed?"
+
+"It's a fact, I assure you.  Well, when we were travelling in the
+states, Fred happened to come across some tea he liked particularly,
+at Chicago.  And the funny thing about this tea is that it is
+compressed.  It is called 'Wapshotts' Patent Compressed Tea;' now I
+daresay," added Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys demurely, "that you wouldn't
+think it possible for compressed tea to be good."
+
+"To tell you the truth," said Mr. Moggridge, "I have never given the
+subject a thought."
+
+"No, of course; being a poet, you wouldn't.  But it's very good, all
+the same: you buy it in cakes, and have to be very particular that
+'Wapshott and Sons' is written on each cake: of course it isn't
+_really_ written--"
+
+"Of course not; but you'll excuse me if I don't yet see--"
+
+"To be sure you don't until I have explained.  Well, you see, men are
+so particular about what they eat and drink, and are always thinking
+about it--I don't mean poets, of course.  I suppose you, for
+instance, only think about gossamer and things."
+
+"I don't know that I think much about gossamer," said Mr. Moggridge.
+
+"Well, moonbeams, then.  But Fred is different.  Ever since he left
+Chicago he has been talking about that tea.  I wonder you never heard
+him."
+
+"I have not, to my knowledge."
+
+"No? Well, at last, finding it couldn't be bought in England, he sent
+across for a chest.  We had the invoice a few days ago, and here it
+is."
+
+Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys produced a scrap of paper, and went on--
+
+"You see, it's coming in a ship called the _Maryland_, and ought to
+be here about this time.  Well, Fred was looking through his
+telescope before breakfast this morning--he's always looking through
+a telescope now, and knows, I believe, every rig of every vessel in
+the world--when he calls out, 'Hullo! American barque!' in his short
+way.  Of course, I didn't know at first what he meant, and mixed it
+up with that stuff--Peruvian bark, isn't it?--that you give to your
+child, if you have one, and do not let it untimely die, or something
+of the sort.  But afterwards he shouted, 'I shouldn't wonder if she's
+the _Maryland_;' and then I understood, and it struck me that it
+would be so nice to come to you and pay the 'duty,' or whatever you
+call it, on the tea, and at the same time, if you were very good, you
+would take me over the ship with you, and show me how you did your
+work.  It's very complicated, I daresay: but I'll be quiet as a
+mouse, and won't interrupt you at all."
+
+She paused for breath.  The Collector smiled, and handed back the
+invoice.
+
+"It seems all right," he said.  "Let us hurry to the Custom House.
+An hour in your company, Geraldine, will transfigure even the dull
+round of duty."
+
+Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys smiled back divinely.  She thought it extremely
+probable.
+
+A few minutes later the poet sat by Geraldine's side--sweet
+proximity!--in the stern of one of Her Majesty's boats, while two
+"minions," as he was wont in verse to term his subordinates, rowed
+them towards a shapely barque that had just dropped anchor not far
+from the Bower Slip.
+
+She flew a yellow flag in sign that she hailed from a foreign port,
+and as the Customs' boat dropped under her quarter Mr. Moggridge
+shouted--
+
+"_Maryland_, ahoy!"
+
+"Ahoy!" answered a gruff voice, and a red face looked over the side.
+
+"Captain?" inquired Mr. Moggridge.
+
+"That's me--Uriah T. Potter, Cap'n.  Customs, I guess," said the
+red-faced man, with a slow look at Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys.
+
+"Clean bill of health?"
+
+"Waal, two fo'c's'le hands down with whoopin'-cough: take it you
+won't keep us in quarantine for that."
+
+The Collector helped Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys up the ship's side.  As she
+alighted on deck a swift glance passed between her and the red-faced
+man.  Quite casually she laid two fingers on her chin.  Uriah T.
+Potter did the same; but Mr. Moggridge was giving some instructions
+to his minions at the moment, and did not notice it.
+
+"Anything to declare?" he asked.
+
+"Mainly corn aboard, an' tinned fruits for Port o' London.
+Reas'nable deal o' tea an' 'baccy, though, for you to seal--shipped
+for same place.  By the way, chest o' tea for party living
+hereabouts--Goodwyn-Sandys, friend of owner--guess that's the reason
+for putting in at this one-hoss place," wound up Uriah T. Potter,
+with a depreciatory glance at the beauties of Troy.
+
+"This is Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys," said the Collector.
+
+"Proud to make your 'cquaintance, marm."  The Captain held out his
+hand to the lady, who shook it affably.
+
+"Let's see the cargo," said Mr. Moggridge.
+
+The Captain led the way and they descended; Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys full
+of pretty wonder at the arrangements of the ship, and slipping her
+fingers timidly into the Collector's hand on the dark companion
+stairs.  He seized and raised them to his lips.
+
+"Oh, you poets!" expostulated she.
+
+    "Where the tyrant's only fee," murmured Mr. Moggridge.
+
+    "Is the kissing of a hand."
+
+"What, more verses?  You shall repeat them to me."
+
+I am afraid that in the obscurity below, Mr. Moggridge inspected the
+weighing of ship's stores and sealing of excisable goods in a very
+perfunctory manner.  There were so many dim corners and passages
+where Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys needed guidance; and, after all, the
+minions were sufficient for the work.  They rummaged here and there
+among casks and chests, weighing, counting, and sealing, whilst the
+red-faced Uriah stood over them and occasionally looked from the
+Collector to the lady with a slow grin of growing intelligence.
+
+They were seated together on a cask, and Mr. Moggridge had possessed
+himself, for the twentieth time, of his companion's hand.
+
+"You think the verses obscure?" he was whispering.  "Ah! Geraldine,
+if I could only speak out from the heart!  As it is, 'Euphelia serves
+to grace my measure!'"
+
+"Who's she?" asked Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys, whose slight acquaintance
+with other poets was, perhaps, the reason why she rated her
+companion's verse so highly.
+
+    "'The merchant, to conceal his treasure,
+         Conveys it in a borrowed name,'"
+
+Mr. Moggridge began to quote.--"Why, Geraldine, what is the matter?
+Are you faint?"
+
+"No; it is nothing."
+
+"I thought you seemed pale.  As I was saying--"
+
+    'The merchant, to conceal his treasure--'
+
+"Yes, yes, I know," said she, rising abruptly.  "It is very hot and
+close down here."
+
+"Then you _were_ faint?"
+
+"Here's your chest, marm," called the voice of Uriah T. Potter.
+
+She turned and walked towards it.  It was a large, square
+packing-case, and bore the legends--
+
+                     "WAPSHOTT AND SONS',
+                            CHICAGO,
+                    PATENT COMPRESSED TEA,
+                      TEN PRIZE MEDALS"--
+
+stamped here and there about it.  "I suppose," she said, turning to
+Mr. Moggridge, "I can have it weighed here, and pay you the duty, and
+then Captain Potter can send it straight to 'The Bower'?"
+
+"Certainly," said Mr. Moggridge; "we won't be long opening it, and
+then--"
+
+"Opening it!"
+
+"Why, yes; as a matter of form, you know.  It won't take a minute."
+
+"But how foolish," said Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys, "when you know very well
+by the invoice that it's tea!"
+
+"Oh, of course it's foolish: only it's the rule, you understand,
+before allowing goods to be landed."
+
+"But I don't understand.  It is tea, and I am ready to pay the duty.
+I never thought you would be so unreasonable."
+
+"Geraldine!"
+
+At the utterance of Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys' Christian name the two
+minions turned aside to conceal their smiles.  The red-faced man's
+appreciation even led him to dive behind the packing-case.
+The Collector pulled himself up and looked confused.
+
+"It was so small a thing I asked," said she, almost to herself, and
+with a heart-rending break in her voice, "so small a test!"  And with
+a sigh she half-turned to go.
+
+The Collector's hand arrested her.
+
+"Do you mean--?"
+
+She looked at him with reproach in her eyes.  "Let me pass," said
+she, and seeing the conflict between love and duty on his face, "So
+small a test!"
+
+"Damn the tea!" said Mr. Moggridge.
+
+"I am feeling so faint," said Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys.
+
+"Let me lead you up to the fresh air."
+
+"No; go and open the tea."
+
+"I am not going to open it."
+
+"Do!"
+
+"I won't.  Here, Sam," he called to one of the minions, "put down
+that chisel and weigh the chest at once.  You needn't open it.
+Come, don't stand staring, but look alive.  I know what's inside.
+Are you satisfied?" he added, bending over her.
+
+"It frightened me so," she answered, looking up with swimming eyes.
+"And I thought--I was planning it so nicely.  Take me up on deck,
+please."
+
+"Come, be careful o' that chest," said Captain Uriah T. Potter to the
+minions, as they moved it up to be weighed.
+
+"Heaviest tea that iver _I_ handled," groaned the first minion.
+
+"All the more duty for you sharks.  O' course it's heavy, being
+compressed: an' strong, too.  Guess you don't oft'n get tea o' this
+strength in your country, anyway.  Give a man two pinches o'
+Wapshott's best, properly cooked, an' I reckon it'll last _him_.
+You won't find him coming to complain."
+
+"No?"
+
+"No.  But I ain't sayin' nuthin'," added Captain Potter, "about his
+widder."
+
+And his smile, as he regarded his hearers, was both engaging and
+expansive.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII.
+
+
+HOW ONE THAT WAS DISSATISFIED WITH HIS PAST SAW A VISION, BUT
+DOUBTED.
+
+Caleb Trotter watched his master's behaviour during the next few days
+with a growing impatience.
+
+"I reckon," he said, "'tes wi' love, as Sally Bennett said when her
+old man got cotched i' the dreshin'-machine,' you'm in, my dear, an'
+you may so well go dro'.'"
+
+Nevertheless, he would look up from his work at times with anxiety.
+
+"Forty-sax.  That's the forty-saxth time he've a-trotted up that
+blessed beach an' back; an' five times he've a-pulled up to stare at
+the watter.  I've a-kep' count wi' these bits o' chip.  An' at night
+'tes all round the house, like Aaron's dresser, wi' a face, too, like
+as ef he'd a-lost a shillin' an' found a thruppeny-bit.  This 'ere
+pussivantin' [1] may be relievin' to the mind, but I'm darned ef et
+can be good for shoe-leather.  'Tes the wear an' tear, that's what
+'tes, as Aunt Lovey said arter killin' her boy wi' whackin'."
+
+The fact is that Mr. Fogo was solving his problem, though the process
+was painful enough.  He was concerned, too, for Caleb, whose rest was
+often broken by his master's restlessness.  In consequence he
+determined to fit up a room for his own use.  Caleb opposed the
+scheme at first; but, finding that the business of changing diverted
+Mr. Fogo's melancholy, gave way at last, on a promise that
+"no May-games" should be indulged in--a festival term which was found
+to include somnambulism, suicide, and smoking in bed.
+
+The room chosen lay on the upper storey at the extreme east of the
+house, and looked out, between two tall elms, upon the creek and the
+lepers' burial-ground.  It was chosen as being directly over the room
+occupied by Caleb, so that, by stamping his foot, Mr. Fogo could
+summon his servant at any time.  The floor was bare of carpet, and
+the chamber of decoration.  But Mr. Fogo hated decoration, and, after
+slinging his hammock and pushing the window open for air, gazed
+around on the blistered ceiling and tattered wall-paper, rubbed his
+hands, and announced that he should be very comfortable.
+
+"Well, sir," said Caleb, as he turned to leave him for the night,
+"arter all, comfort's a matter o' comparison, as St. La'rence said
+when he turned round 'pon the gridiron.  But the room's clane as
+watter an' scourin' 'll make et--reminds me," he continued, with a
+glance round, "o' what the contented clerk said by hes office-stool:
+'Chairs es good,' said he, 'and sofies es better; but 'tes a great
+thing to harbour no dust.'  Any orders, sir?"
+
+"No, I fancy--stop!  Is my writing-case here?"
+
+Caleb's anxiety took alarm.
+
+"You bain't a-goin' to do et in writin' sir, surely!"
+
+Mr. Fogo stared.
+
+"Don't 'ee, sir--don't 'ee!"
+
+"Really, Caleb, your behaviour is most extraordinary.  What is it
+that I am not to do?"
+
+"Why, put et in writin', sir: they don't like et.  Go up an' ax her
+like a man--'Will 'ee ha' me?  Iss or no?'  That was ould Dick Jago's
+way, an' I reckon _he_ knowed, havin' married sax wifes, wan time an'
+another.  But as for pen and ink--"
+
+"You mistake me," interrupted Mr. Fogo, with a painful flush.
+He paused irresolutely, and then added, in a softer tone, "Would you
+mind taking a seat in the window here, Caleb?  I have something to
+say to you."
+
+Caleb obeyed.  For a moment or two there was silence as Mr. Fogo
+stood up before his servant.  The light of the candle on the chest
+beside him but half revealed his face.  When at last he spoke it was
+in a heavy, mechanical tone.
+
+"You guessed once," he said, "and rightly, that a woman was the cause
+of my seclusion in this place.  In such companionship as ours, it
+would have been difficult--even had I wished it--to keep up the
+ordinary relations of master and man; and more than once you have had
+opportunities of satisfying whatever curiosity you may have felt
+about my--my past.  Believe me, Caleb, I have noted your forbearance,
+and thank you for it."
+
+Caleb moved uneasily, but was silent.
+
+"But my life has been too lonely for me," pursued his master wearily.
+"On general grounds one would not imagine the life of a successful
+hermit to demand any rare qualifications.  It is humiliating, but
+even as a hermit I am a failure: for instance, you see, I want to
+talk."
+
+His hearer, though puzzled by the words, vaguely understood the smile
+of self-contempt with which they were closed.
+
+"As a woman-hater, too, my performances are beneath contempt.
+I _did_ think," said Mr. Fogo with something of testiness in his
+voice, "I should prove an adequate woman-hater, whereas it happens--"
+
+He broke off suddenly, and took a turn or two up and down the room.
+Caleb could have finished the sentence for him, but refrained.
+
+"Surely," said Mr. Fogo, pausing suddenly in his walk, "surely the
+conditions were favourable enough.  Listen.  It is not so very long
+ago since I possessed ambitions--hopes; hopes that I hugged to myself
+as only a silent man may.  With them I meant to move the world, so
+far as a writer can move the world (which I daresay may be quite an
+inch).  These hopes I put in the keeping of the woman I loved.
+Can you foresee the rest?"
+
+Caleb fumbled in his pocket for his pipe, found it, held it up
+between finger and thumb, and, looking along the stem, nodded.
+
+"We were engaged to be married.  Two days before the day fixed for
+our wedding she--she came to me (knowing me, I suppose, to be a mild
+man) and told me she was married--had been married for a week or
+more, to a man I had never seen--a Mr. Goodwyn-Sandys.  Hallo! is it
+broken?"
+
+For the pipe had dropped from Caleb's fingers and lay in pieces upon
+the floor.
+
+"Quite so," he went on in answer to the white face confronting him,
+"I know it.  She is at this moment living in Troy with her husband.
+I had understood they were in America; but the finger of fate is in
+every pie."
+
+Caleb drew out a large handkerchief, and, mopping his brow, gasped--
+
+"Well, of all--"  And then broke off to add feebly, "Here's a
+coincidence!--as Bill said when he was hanged 'pon his birthday."
+
+"I have not met her yet, and until now have avoided the chance.
+But now I am curious to see her--"
+
+"Don't 'ee, sir."
+
+"And to-night intended writing."
+
+"Don't 'ee, sir; don't 'ee."
+
+"To ask for an interview, Caleb," pursued Mr. Fogo, drawing himself
+up suddenly, while his eyes fairly gleamed behind his spectacles.
+"Here I am, my past wrecked and all its cargo of ambitions scattered
+on the sands, and yet--and yet I feel tonight that I could thank that
+woman.  Do you understand?"
+
+"I reckon I do," said Caleb, rising heavily and making for the door.
+
+He stopped with his hand on the door, and turning, observed his
+master for a minute or so without remark.  At last he said abruptly--
+
+"Pleasant dreams to 'ee, sir: an' two knacks 'pon the floor ef I be
+wanted.  Good-night, sir."  And with this he was gone.
+
+Mr. Fogo stood for some moments listening to his footsteps as they
+shuffled down the stairs.  Then with a sigh he turned to his
+writing-case, pulled a straw-bottomed chair before the rickety table,
+and sat for a while, pen in hand, pondering.
+
+Before he had finished, his candle was low in its socket, and the
+floor around him littered with scraps of torn paper.  He sealed the
+envelope, blew out the candle, and stepped to the window.
+
+"I wonder if she has changed," he said to himself.
+
+Outside, the summer moon had risen above the hill facing him, and the
+near half of the creek was ablaze with silver.  The old schooner
+still lay in shadow, but the water rushing from her hold kept a
+perpetual music.  Other sounds there were none but the soft rustling
+of the swallows in the eaves overhead, the sucking of the tide
+upon the beach below, and the whisper of night among the elms.
+The air was heavy with the fragrance of climbing roses and all the
+scents of the garden.  In such an hour Nature is half sad and wholly
+tender.
+
+Mr. Fogo lit a pipe, and, watching its fumes as they curled out upon
+the laden night, fell into a kingly melancholy.  He dwelt on his
+past, but without resentment; on Tamsin, but with less trouble of
+heart.  After all, what did it matter?  Mr. Fogo, leaning forward on
+the window-seat, came to a conclusion to which others have been led
+before him--that life is a small thing.  Oddly enough, this
+discovery, though it belittled his fellowmen considerably, did not
+belittle the thinker at all, or rather affected him with a very
+sublime humility.
+
+"When one thinks," said he, "that the moon will probably rise ten
+million times over the hill yonder on such a night as this, it
+strikes one that woman-hating is petty, not to say a trifle fatuous."
+
+He puffed awhile in silence, and then went on--
+
+"The strange part of it is, that the argument does not seem to affect
+Tamsin as much as I should have fancied."
+
+He paused for a moment, and added:
+
+"Or to prove as conclusively as I should expect that I am a fool.
+Possibly if I see Geraldine to-morrow, she will prove it more
+satis--"
+
+He broke off to clutch the lattice, and stare with rigid eyes across
+the creek.
+
+For the moon was by this time high enough to fling a ray upon the
+deserted hull: and there--upon the deck--stood a figure--the figure
+of a woman.
+
+She was motionless, and leant against the bulwarks, with her face
+towards him, but in black shadow.  A dark hood covered her head; but
+the cloak was flung back, and revealed just a gleam of white where
+her bosom and shoulders bent forward over the schooner's side.
+
+Mr. Fogo's heart gave a leap, stood still, and then fell to beating
+with frantic speed.  He craned out at the window, straining his eyes.
+At the same moment the pipe dropped from his lips and tumbled,
+scattering a shower of sparks, into the rose-bush below.
+
+When he looked up again the woman had disappeared.
+
+Suddenly he remembered Caleb's story of the girl who, ages back, had
+left her home to live among the lepers in this very house, perhaps in
+the very room he occupied; and of the ghost that haunted the burial
+ground below.  Mr. Fogo was not without courage; but the recollection
+brought a feeling of so many spiders creeping up his spine.
+
+And yet the whole tale was so unlikely that, by degrees, as he gazed
+at the wreck, now completely bathed in moonlight, he began to
+persuade himself that his eyes had played him a trick.
+
+"I will go to bed," he muttered; "I have been upset lately, and these
+fits of mine may well pass into hallucination.  Once think of these
+women and--"
+
+He stopped as if shot.  From behind the wreck a small boat shot out
+into the moon's brilliance.  Two figures sat in it, a woman and a
+man; and as the boat dropped swiftly down on the ebb he had time to
+notice that both were heavily muffled about the face.  This was all
+he could see, for in a moment they had passed into the gloom, and the
+next the angle of the house hid them from view; but he could still
+hear the plash of their oars above the sounds of the night.
+
+"The leper and his sweetheart," was Mr. Fogo's first thought.
+But then followed the reflection--would ghostly oars sound?
+On the whole, he decided against the supernatural.  But the mystery
+remained.  More curious than agitated, but nevertheless with little
+inclination to resume his communing with the night, Mr. Fogo sought
+his hammock and fell asleep.
+
+The sun was high when he awoke, and as he descended to breakfast
+he heard Caleb's mallet already at work on the quay below.
+Still, anxious to set his doubts at rest, he made a hasty meal, and
+walked down to take a second opinion on the vision.
+
+Caleb, with his back towards the house, was busily fitting a new
+thwart into Mr. Fogo's boat, and singing with extreme gaiety--
+
+    "Oh, where be the French dogs?
+        Oh!  where be they, O?
+     They be down i' their long-boats,
+        All on the salt say, O!"
+
+What with the song and the hammering, he did not hear his master's
+approach.
+
+    "Up flies the kite,
+        An' down flies the lark, O!
+     Wi' hale an' tow, rumbleow--"
+
+"Good-morning, Caleb."
+
+"Aw, mornin' to 'ee, sir.  You took me unawares--
+
+    "All for to fetch home,
+        The summer an' the May, O!
+     For summer is a-come,
+        An' winter es a-go.'"
+
+"Caleb, I have seen a ghost."
+
+The mallet stopped in mid-descent.  Caleb looked up again
+open-mouthed.
+
+"Tom Twist and Harry Dingle!"
+
+"I beg your pardon?"
+
+"Figger o' speech, sir, meanin' 'Who'd ha' thought et?' Whose ghost,
+sir, ef 'taint a rude question?"
+
+Mr. Fogo told his story.
+
+At its conclusion, Caleb laid down his mallet and whistled.
+
+"'Tes the leppards, sure 'nuff, a-ha'ntin' o' th' ould place.
+Scriptur' says they will not change their spots, an' I'm blest ef et
+don't say truth.  But deary me, sir, an' axin' your pardon for sayin'
+so, you'm a game-cock, an' no mistake."
+
+"I?"
+
+"Iss, sir.  Two knacks 'pon the floor, an' I'd ha' been up in a
+jiffey.  But niver mind, sir, us'll wait up for mun to-night, an'
+I'll get the loan o' the Dearlove's blunderbust in case they gets
+pol-rumptious."
+
+Mr. Fogo deprecated the blunderbuss, but agreed to sit up for the
+ghost; and so for the time the matter dropped.  But Caleb's eyes
+followed his master admiringly for the rest of the day, and more than
+once he had to express his feelings in vigorous soliloquy.
+
+"Niver tell me!  Looks as ef he'd no more pluck nor a field-mouse;
+an' I'm darned ef he takes more 'count of a ghost than he wud of a
+circuit-preacher.  Blest ef I don't think ef a sperrit was to knack
+at the front door, he'd tell 'un to wipe hes feet 'pon the mat, an'
+make hissel' at home.  Well, well, seein's believin', as Tommy said
+when he spied Noah's Ark i' the peep-show."
+
+
+   Footnote, Chapter XVII
+   [1] I cannot forbear to add a note on this eminently Trojan
+   word. In the fifteenth century, so high was the spirit of the
+   Trojan sea-captains, and so heavy the toll of black-mail they
+   levied on ships of other ports, that King Edward IV sent
+   poursuivant after poursuivant to threaten his displeasure.
+   The messengers had their ears slit for their pains; and
+   "poursuivanting" or "pussivanting" survives as a term for
+   ineffective bustle.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+
+OF A YOUNG MAN THAT WOULD START UPON A DARK ADVENTURE, BUT HAD TWO
+MINDS UPON IT.
+
+At ten o'clock on this same morning Mr. Samuel Buzza sat by the Club
+window, alternately skimming his morning paper and sipping his
+morning draught.  He was alone, for the habit of early rising was
+fast following the other virtues of antique Troy, and the members
+rarely mustered in force before eleven.
+
+He had read all the murders and sporting intelligence, and was about
+to glance at the affairs of Europe, when Mrs. Cripps, the caretaker,
+entered in a hurry and a clean white apron.
+
+"If you please, sir, there's Seth Udy's little boy below with a note
+for you.  I'd have brought it up, but he says he must give it
+hisself."
+
+Sam, descending with some wonder, encountered Mr. Moggridge in the
+passage.  The rivals drew aside to let each other pass.  On the
+doorstep stood a ragged urchin, and waved a letter.
+
+"For you, sir; an' plaise you'm to tell me 'yes' or 'no,' so quick as
+possible."
+
+Sam took the letter, glanced at the neat, feminine handwriting of the
+address, and tore open the envelope.
+
+    "Dear Mr. Buzza,
+     If you care to remember what was spoken the other evening, you
+     will to-night help a _most unhappy woman_.  You will go to the
+     captain's cabin of the Wreck which we visited together, and find
+     there _a small portmanteau_.  It may be carried in the hand, and
+     holds the few necessaries I have hidden for my flight, but
+     please carry it carefully.  If you will be waiting with this by
+     the sign-post at the Five-Lanes' corner, at 11.30 _to-night_, no
+     _words_ of mine will repay you.  Should you refuse, I am a
+     wretched woman; but in any case I know I may trust you to say no
+     word of this.
+
+    "Look out for the _closed carriage and pair_.  A word to the
+     bearer will tell me that I may hope, or that you care nothing
+     for me.
+                                  G. G.-S.
+
+    "P.S.--Be very careful _not to shake the portmanteau_."
+
+"What be I to say, plaise, sir?"
+
+Sam, who had read the letter for a third time syllable by syllable,
+looked around helplessly.
+
+"Ef you plaise, what be I to say?"
+
+Sam very heartily wished both boy and letter to the devil.
+He groaned aloud, and was about to answer, when he paused suddenly.
+
+In the room above Mr. Moggridge was singing a jaunty stave.
+
+The sound goaded Sam to madness; he ground his teeth and made up his
+mind.
+
+"Say 'yes,'" he answered, shortly.
+
+The word was no sooner spoken than he wished it recalled.  But the
+urchin had taken to his heels.  With an angry sigh Sam let
+circumstance decide for him, and returned to the reading-room.
+
+No doubt the consciousness that pique had just betrayed his judgment
+made him the more inclined to quarrel with the poet.  But assuredly
+the sight that met his eyes caused his blood to boil; for Mr.
+Moggridge was calmly in possession of the chair and newspaper which
+Sam had but a moment since resigned.
+
+"Excuse me, but that is my chair and my paper."
+
+"Eh?"  The poet looked up sweetly.  "Surely, the Club chair and the
+Club paper--"
+
+"I have but this moment left them."
+
+"By a singular coincidence, I have but this moment taken possession
+of them."
+
+"Give them up, sir."
+
+"I shall do nothing of the kind, sir."
+
+At this point Sam was seized with the unlucky inspiration of quoting
+from Mr. Moggridge's published works:
+
+    "Forbid the flood to wet thy feet,
+        Or bind its wrath in chains;
+     But never seek to quench the heat
+        That fires a poet's veins!"
+
+This stanza, delivered with nice attention to its author's
+drawing-room manner, was too much.
+
+"Sir, you are no gentleman!"
+
+"You seem," retorted Sam, "to be an authority on manners as well as
+on Customs.  I won't repeat your charge; but I'll be dashed if you're
+a poet!"
+
+My Muse is in a very pretty pass.  Gentlest of her sisterhood, she
+has wandered from the hum of Miss Limpenny's whist-table into the
+turmoil of Mars.  Even as one who, strolling through a smiling
+champaign, finds suddenly a lion in his path, and to him straightway
+the topmost bough of the platanus is dearer than the mother that bare
+him--in short, I really cannot say how this history would have ended,
+had not Fortune at this juncture descended to the Club-room in form
+and speech like to Admiral Buzza.
+
+The Admiral did not convey his son away in a hollow cloud, or even
+break the Club telescope in Mr. Moggridge's hand; he made a speech
+instead, to this effect:
+
+"My sons, attend and cease from strife implacable; neither be as two
+ravening whelps that, having chanced on a kid in the dells of the
+mountain, dispute thereover, dragging this way and that with gnashing
+jaws.  For to youth belong anger and biting words, but to soothe is
+the gift of old age."
+
+What the Admiral actually said was--"Hullo! what the devil are you
+young cubs quarrelling about?"
+
+And now, satisfied that no blood is to be spilt, the Muse hies gladly
+to a very different scene.
+
+In the drawing-room of "The Bower" Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys was sitting
+with a puzzled face and a letter on her lap.  She had gone to the
+front door to learn Sam Buzza's answer, and, having dismissed her
+messenger, was returning, when the garden-gate creaked, and a
+blue-jerseyed man, with a gravely humorous face, stood before her.
+The new comer had regarded her long and earnestly before asking--
+
+"Be you Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys?"
+
+"I am."
+
+"Answerin' to name o' Geraldine, an' lawful wife o' party answerin'
+to name o' Honorubble Frederic?"
+
+"Certainly!" she smiled.
+
+"H'm.  Then this 'ere's for you."  And the blue-jerseyed man handed a
+letter, and looked at her again, searchingly.
+
+"Is there an answer?"
+
+"No, I reckon."
+
+She was turning, when the man suddenly laid a finger on her arm.
+
+"Axin' pardon, but you'll let 'un down aisy, won't 'ee?  He don't
+bear no malice, tho' he've a-suffered a brave bit.  Cure 'un, that's
+what I say--cure 'un: this bein', o' cou'se, atween you an' me.
+An' look 'ee here," he continued, with a slow nod; "s'posin' the
+party lets on as he's a-falled in love wi' another party, I reckon
+you won't be the party to hinder et.  Mind, I bain't sayin' you
+cou'd, but you won't try, will 'ee?  That's atween you an' me, o'
+cou'se."
+
+The man winked solemnly, and turned down the path.  Before she
+recovered of her astonishment he had paused again at the gate, and
+was looking back.
+
+"That's understood," he nodded; "atween you an' me an' the gate-post,
+o' cou'se."
+
+With that he had disappeared.
+
+Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys, if bewildered at this, was yet more astonished
+at the contents of the letter.
+
+"Fogo?" she repeated, with a glance at the signature--"Fogo?
+Won't that be the name of the woman-hater up at Kit's House, me
+dear?"
+
+"Certainly," answered the Honourable Frederic.
+
+"Then I'll trouble yez to listen to this."
+
+She read as follows:--
+
+    "My Dear Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys,
+     When last you left me I prayed that we might never meet again.
+     But time is stronger than I fancied, and here I am writing to
+     you.  Fate must have been in her most ironical mood to bring us
+     so near in this corner of the world.  I thought you were in
+     another continent; but if you will let me accept the chance
+     which brings us together, and call upon you as an old friend,
+     I shall really be grateful: for there will be much to talk
+     about, even if we avoid, as I promise to do, all that is
+     painful; and I am very lonely.  I have seen your husband, and
+     hope you are very happy.--Believe me, very sincerely yours,
+                                      Philip Fogo."
+
+"What does it mean?" asked Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys helplessly.
+
+"It means, Nellie, that we have just time enough, and none to spare;
+in other words, that 'Goodwyn-Sandys' has come near to being a
+confoundedly fatal--"
+
+"Then he must have known--"
+
+"Known!  My treasure, where are your wits?  Beautiful namesake--
+jilted lover--'hence, perjured woman'--bleeding heart--years pass--
+marry another--finger of fate--Good Lord!" wound up the Honourable
+Frederic.  "I met the fellow one day, and couldn't understand why he
+stared so--gave me the creeps--see it all now."
+
+He lay back in his chair and whistled.
+
+There was a tap at the drawing-room door, and the buttoned youth
+announced that Mrs. Buzza was without, and earnestly begged an
+interview with Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys.  The Honourable Frederic
+obligingly retired to smoke, and the visitor was shown in.
+
+Her appearance was extraordinary.  Her portly figure shook; her eyes
+were red; her bonnet, rakishly poised over the left eye, had dragged
+askew the "front" under it, as though its wearer had parted her hair
+on one side in a distracted moment.  A sob rent her bosom as she
+entered.
+
+"My poor soul!" murmured Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys, "you are in trouble."
+
+Mrs. Buzza tried to speak, but dropped into a chair and nodded
+instead.
+
+"What _is_ the matter?"
+
+"It's--it's _him_."
+
+"The Admiral?"
+
+Mrs. Buzza mopped her eyes and nodded again.
+
+"What has he done now?"
+
+"S-said his bu-bu-breakfast was cold this mo-horning, and p-pitched
+the bu-bu-breakfast set over the quay-door," she moaned.  "Oh! w-what
+shall I do?"
+
+"Leave him!"
+
+Mrs. Buzza clasped her hands and stared.
+
+"You could see the m-marks quite plain," she wailed.
+
+"What!  Did he strike you?"
+
+"I mean, on the bo-bottom of the c-cups.  They were real
+W-worcester."
+
+"Leave him!  Oh! I have no patience," and Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys stamped
+her little foot, "with you women of Troy.  Will you always be dolls--
+dolls with a painted smile for all man's insane caprices?  Will you
+never--?"
+
+"I don't paint," put in Mrs. Buzza feebly.
+
+"Revolt, I say!  Leave him this very night!  Oh! if I could--"
+
+"If you please 'm," interrupted the page, throwing open the door,
+"here's Mrs. Simpson, an' says she must see you partic'lar."
+
+Mrs. Buzza had barely time to dry her eyes and set her bonnet
+straight, before Mrs. Simpson rushed into the room.  The new comer's
+face was crimson, and her eyes sparkled.
+
+"Oh! Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys, I must--"
+
+At this point she became aware of Mrs. Buzza, stopped abruptly, sank
+into a chair, and began aimlessly to discuss the weather.
+
+This was awkward; but the situation became still further strained
+when Mrs. Pellow was announced, and bursting in with the same
+eagerness, came to a dead halt with the same inconsequence.
+Mrs. Saunders followed with white face and set teeth, and Mrs.
+Ellicome-Payne in haste and tears.
+
+"Pray come in," said their hostess blandly; "this is quite like a
+mothers' meeting."
+
+The reader has no doubt guessed aright.  Though nobody present ever
+afterwards breathed a word as to their reasons for calling thus at
+"The Bower," and though the weather (which was serene and settled)
+alone supplied conversation during their visit, the truth is that the
+domestic relations of all these ladies had coincidently reached a
+climax.  It seems incredible; but by no other hypothesis can I
+explain the facts.  If the reader can supply a better, he is
+entreated to do so.
+
+At length, finding the constraint past all bearing, Mrs. Buzza rose
+to go.
+
+"You will do it?" whispered her hostess as they shook hands.
+
+She could not trust herself to answer, but nodded and hastily left
+the room.  At the front door she almost ran against a thin,
+mild-faced gentleman.  He drew aside with a bow, and avoided the
+collision; but she did not notice him.
+
+"I will do it," she kept repeating to herself, "in spite of the poor
+girls."
+
+A mist swept before her eyes as she passed down the road.
+She staggered a little, with a vague feeling that the world was
+ending somehow; but she repeated--
+
+"I will do it.  I have been a good wife to him; but it's all over
+now--it's all over to-night."
+
+The mild-faced gentleman into whom Mrs. Buzza had so nearly run in
+her agitation was Mr. Fogo.  A certain air of juvenility sat upon
+him, due to a new pair of gloves and the careful polish which Caleb
+had coaxed upon his hat and boots.  His clothes were brushed, his
+carriage was more erect; and the page, who opened the door, must,
+after a scrutiny, have pronounced him presentable, for he was
+admitted at once.
+
+Undoubtedly the page blundered; but the events of the past hour had
+completely muddled the poor boy's wits, and perhaps the sight of
+one of his own sex was grateful, coming as it did after so many
+agitated females.  At any rate, Mr. Fogo and his card entered the
+Goodwyn-Sandys' drawing-room together.
+
+I leave you to imagine his feelings.  In one wild instant the scene
+exploded on his senses.  He staggered back against the door, securely
+pinning the retreating page between it and the doorpost, and denuding
+the Goodwyn-Sandys' livery of half a dozen buttons.  The four
+distracted visitors started up as if to escape by the window.
+Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys advanced.
+
+She was white to the lips.  A close observer might have read the
+hunted look that for one brief moment swept over her face.  But when
+she spoke her words were cold and calm.
+
+"You wish to see my husband, Mr.--?"  She hesitated over the name.
+
+"Not in the least," stammered Mr. Fogo.
+
+There was an awful silence, during which he stared blankly around on
+the ladies.
+
+"Then may I ask--?"
+
+"I desired to see Gerald--I mean, Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys--but--"
+
+"I am Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys.  Would you mind stating your business?"
+
+Mr. Fogo started, dropped his hat, and leant back against the door
+again.
+
+"_You!_"
+
+"Certainly." Her mouth worked slightly, but her eyes were steady.
+
+"You are she that--was--once--Geraldine--O'Halloran?"
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"Excuse me, madam," said Mr. Fogo, picking up his hat and addressing
+Mrs. Simpson politely, "but the mole on your chin annoys me."
+
+"Sir!"
+
+"Annoys me excessively.  May I ask, was it a birth-mark?"
+
+"He is mad!" screamed the ladies, starting up and wringing their
+hands.  "Oh, help! help!"
+
+Mr. Fogo looked from one to another, and passed his hand wearily over
+his eyes.
+
+"You are right," he murmured; "I fancy--do you know--that I must be--
+slightly--mad.  Pray excuse me.  Would one of you mind seeing me
+home?" he asked with a plaintive smile.
+
+His eyes wandered to Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys, who stood with one hand
+resting on the table, while the other pointed to the door.
+
+"Help!  help!" screamed the ladies.
+
+Without another word he opened the door and tottered out into the
+passage.  At the foot of the stairs he met the Honourable Frederic,
+who had been attracted by the screams.
+
+"It's all right," said Mr. Fogo; "don't trouble.  I shall be better
+out in the open air.  There are women in there"--he pointed towards
+the drawing-room--"and one with a mole.  I daresay it's all right--
+but it seemed to me a very big mole."
+
+And leaving the Honourable Frederic to gasp, he staggered from the
+house.
+
+
+
+What happened in the drawing-room of "The Bower" after he left it
+will never be known, for the ladies of Troy are silent on the point.
+
+
+
+It was ten o'clock at night, the hour when men may cull the bloom of
+sleep.  Already the moon rode in a serene heaven, and, looking in at
+the Club window, saw the Admiral and Lawyer Pellow--"_male feriatos
+Troas_"--busy with a mild game of _ecarte_.  There were not enough to
+make up a loo to-night, for Sam and Mr. Moggridge were absent, and
+so--more unaccountably--was the Honourable Frederic.  The moon was
+silent, and only she, peering through the blinds of "The Bower,"
+could see Mr. and Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys hastily packing their boxes; or
+beneath the ladder, by the Admiral's quay-door, a figure stealthily
+unmooring the Admiral's boat.
+
+
+
+To say that Sam Buzza did not relish his task were but feebly to
+paint his feelings, as, with the paddles under one arm, and the
+thole-pins in his pocket, he crept down the ladder and pushed off.
+Never before had the plash of oars seemed so searching a sound; never
+had the harbour been so crowded with vessels; and as for buoys, small
+craft, and floating logs, they bumped against his boat at every
+stroke.  The moon, too, dogged him with persistent malice, or why was
+it that he rode always in a pool of light?  The ships' lamps tracked
+him as so many eyes.  He carried a bull's-eye lantern in the bottom
+of his boat, and the smell of its oil and heated varnish seemed to
+smell aloud to Heaven.
+
+With heart in mouth, he crossed the line of the ferry, and picked his
+way among the vessels lying off the jetties.  On one of these vessels
+somebody was playing a concertina, and as he crept under its counter
+a voice hailed him in German.  He gave no answer, but pulled quickly
+on.  And now he was clear again, and nearing Kit's House under the
+left bank.  There was no light in any window, he noticed, with a
+glance over his shoulder.  Still in the shadow, and only pulling out,
+here and there, to avoid a jutting rock, he gained the creek's mouth,
+and rowed softly up until the bulwarks of the old wreck overhung him.
+
+The very silence daunted him now; but it must be gone through.
+Thinking to deaden fear by hurry, he caught up the lantern, leapt on
+board with the painter, fastened it, and crept swiftly towards the
+poop.
+
+He gained the hatch, and paused to turn the slide of his lantern.
+The shaft of light fell down the companion as into a pitch-dark well.
+He could feel his heart thumping against his ribs as he began the
+descent, and jumping with every creak of the rotten boards, while
+always behind his fright lurked a sickening sense of the guilty
+foolishness of his errand.
+
+At the ladder's foot he put his hand to his damp brow, and peered
+into the cabin.
+
+In a moment his blood froze.  A hoarse cry broke from him.
+
+For there--straight ahead--a white face with straining eyes stared
+into his own!
+
+And then he saw it was but his own reflection in a patch of mirror
+stuck into the panel opposite.
+
+But the shock of that pallid mask confronting him had already
+unnerved him utterly.
+
+He drew his eyes away, glanced around, and spied a black portmanteau
+propped beside a packing-case in the angle made by the wall and the
+flooring.  In mad haste to reach the open air, but dimly remembering
+Geraldine's caution, he grasped the handles, flung a look behind him,
+and clambered up the ladder again, and out upon deck.
+
+The worst was over; but he could not rest until again in his boat.
+As he untied the painter, he noticed the ray of his lantern dancing
+wildly up and down the opposite bank with the shaking of his hand.
+Cursing his forgetfulness, he turned the slide, slipped the lantern
+into his pocket, and, lowering himself gently with the portmanteau,
+dropped, seized the paddles, and rowed away as for dear life.
+
+He had put three boats' lengths between him and the hull, and was
+drawing a sigh of relief, when a voice hailed him, and then--
+
+A tongue of flame leapt out, and a loud report rang forth upon the
+night.  He heard something whistle by his ear.  Catching up the
+paddles again, he pulled madly out of the creek, and away for the
+opposite bank of the river; ran his boat in; and, seizing the
+portmanteau, without attempt to ship the oars or fasten the painter,
+leapt out; climbed, slipped, and staggered over the slippery stones;
+and fled up the hill as though a thousand fiends were at his heels.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX.
+
+
+THAT A SILVER BULLET HAS VIRTUE: WITH A WARNING TO COMMODORES.
+
+"Well, sir," remarked Caleb at ten o'clock that evening, after an
+hour's watching had passed and brought no sign of a ghost, "I wish
+this 'ere sperrit, ef sperrit et be, wud put hissel' out to be
+punkshal.  They do say as the Queen must wait while her beer's
+a-drawin'; but et strikes me ghost-seein' es apt to be like Boscas'le
+Fair, which begins twelve an' ends at noon."
+
+Caleb caressed a huge blunderbuss which lay across his knee, and
+caused Mr. Fogo no slight apprehension.
+
+"Et puts me i' mind," he went on, as his master was silent, "o' th'
+ould lidden [1] as us used to sing when us was tiny mites:--"
+
+     Riddle me, riddle me, riddle me right,
+     Where was I last Sat'rday night?
+     I seed a chimp-champ champin' at his bridle,
+     I seed an ould fox workin' hissel' idle.
+     The trees did shever, an' I did shake,
+     To see what a hole thic' fox did make.
+
+"Now I comes to think 'pon et, 'tes Sat'rday night too; an' that's
+odd, as Martha said by her glove."
+
+Still Mr. Fogo was silent.
+
+"As for the blunderbust, sir, there's no call to be afeard.  Tes on'y
+loaded wi' shot an' a silver shillin'.  I heerd tell that over to
+Tresawsen, wan time, they had purty trouble wi' a lerrupin' big hare,
+sir.  Neither man nor hound cud cotch her; an' as for bullets, her
+tuk in bullets like so much ballast.  Well, sir, th' ould Squire were
+out wi' his gun wan day, an' 'way to track thicky hare, roun' an'
+roun', for up ten mile; an' the more lead he fired, the better
+plaised her seemed.  'Darn et!' says the old Squire at las'.
+''Tes witchcraf; I'll try a silver bullet.'  So he pulls out a
+crown-piece an' hammers 'un into a slug to fit hes gun.  He'd no
+sooner loaded than out pops the hare agen, not twenty yards off, an'
+right 'cross the path.  Th' ould man blazed away, an' this time hit
+her sure 'nuff: hows'ever, her warn't too badly wounded to nip roun'
+the knap o' the hill an' out o' sight.  'I'll ha' 'ee!' cries the
+Squire; an' wi' that pulls hot foot roun' the hill.  An' there, sir,
+clucked in under a bit o' rock, an' pantin' for dear life, were ould
+Mally Skegg.  I tell 'ee, sir, the Squire made no more to do, but
+'way to run, an' niver stopped till he were safe home to Tresawsen.
+That's so.  Mally were a witch, like her mother afore her; an' the
+best proof es, her wore a limp arter this to the day o' her death."
+
+Mr. Fogo roused himself from his abstraction to ask--
+
+"Do you seriously believe it was a ghost that I saw last night?"
+
+"That's as may be.  Ef 'taint, 'tes folks as has no bus'ness
+hereabouts.  I've heerd tell as you'm wi'in the law ef you hails mun
+dree times afore firin'.  That's what I means to do, anyway.  As for
+ghostes, I do believe, an' I don't believe."
+
+"What?  That a man's spirit comes back after death to trouble folks?"
+
+"I dunno 'bout sperrit: but I heerd a tale wance 'bout a man's
+remains as gi'ed a peck o' trouble arter death.  'Twas ould Commodore
+Trounce as the remains belonged to, an' 'tes a queer yarn, ef you
+niver heerd et afore."
+
+Caleb looked at his master.  Mr. Fogo had not yet told the story of
+his call at "The Bower"; but Caleb saw that he was suffering, and had
+planned this story as a diversion.
+
+The bait took.  Mr. Fogo looked up expectant, and lit a fresh pipe.
+So Caleb settled himself in his corner of the window-seat, and, still
+keeping an eye on the old schooner, began--
+
+            "THE COMMODORE'S PROGRESS.
+
+"You've heerd me spake, sir, o' Joe Bonaday, him as made poetry 'long
+wi' me wan time when lying becalmed off Ilfrycombe?"
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"Well, this Joe were a Barnstaple man, bred an' born.  But he had a
+brother--Sam were hes name--as came an' settled out Carne way;
+'Ould These-an'-Thicky,' us used to call 'n.  Sam was a crowder, [2]
+you must knaw, an' used to play the fiddle over to Tregarrick Fair;
+but he cudn' niver play more'n two tunes.  'Which'll 'ee ha',' he
+used to say, 'which'll 'ee ha'--these or thicky?'  That's why, tho'
+he was christened Sam, us used to call 'n These-an'-Thicky for
+short."
+
+"I see."
+
+"This 'ere Sam Bonaday, tho' he came an' settled down i' these parts,
+was a bettermost body i' some ways, an' had a-seen a heap o' life
+'long wi' ould Commodore Trounce.  Sam was teetotum to the Commodore,
+an' acted currier when th' ould man travelled, which he did a brave
+bit--brushin' hes clothes, an' shinin' hes boots, an' takin' the
+tickets, an' the res'.  The Commodore were mighty fond o' Sam: an' as
+for Sam, he used to say he mou't ha' been the Commodore's brother--
+on'y, you see, he warn't."
+
+"I think I understand," said Mr. Fogo.
+
+"Iss, sir.  Well, t'ward the end o' hes days the Commodore were
+stashuned out at Gibraltar, an' o' cou'se takes Sam.  He'd a-been
+ailin' for a tidy spell, had the Commodore, an' I reckon that place
+finished 'un; for he hadn' been there a month afore he tuk a chill,
+purty soon Sam saw 'twas on'y a matter o' time afore th' ould man wud
+go dead.
+
+"Sam kep' hes maaster goin' 'pon brandy an' milk for a while; but
+wan day he comes in an' finds 'un settin' up in bed an' starin'.
+The Commodore was a little purgy, [3] bustious [4] sort o' man, sir,
+wi' a squinny eye an' mottles upon hes face pretty near so thick as
+the Milky Way; an' he skeered Sam a bit, settin' up there an'
+glazin'.
+
+"Th' ould man had no more sproil [5] nor a babby, an' had pretty nigh
+lost hes mouth-speech, but he beckons Sam to the bed, and whispers--
+
+"' Sam, you've a-been a gude sarvent to me.'
+
+"'Gude maasters makes gude sarvents,' says Sam, an' falls to cryin'
+bitterly.
+
+"'You'm down i' my will,' says the Commodore, 'so you've no call to
+take on so.  But look 'ee here, Sam; there's wan thing more I wants
+'ee to do for your old maaster.  I've a-been a Wanderin' Jewel all my
+life,' says he, '--wanderer 'pon the face o' the earth, like--like--'
+
+"'Cain,' says Sam.
+
+"'Well, not azackly.  Hows'ever, you an' me, Sam, have a-been like
+Jan Tresize's geese, never happy unless they be where they bain't,
+an' that's the truth.  An' now,' says he, 'I've a-tuk a consait I'd
+like my ould bones to be carr'd home to Carne, an' laid to rest 'long
+wi' my haveage. [6]  All the Trounces have a-been berried in Carne
+Churchyard, Sam, an' I'm thinkin' I'd like to go back to mun, like
+the Prodigious Son.  So what I wants 'ee to do es this:--When I be
+dead an' gone, you mus' get a handy box made, so's I shall carry
+aisy, an' take me back to England.  You'll find plenty o' money for
+the way i' the skivet [7] o' my chest there, i' the corner.'
+
+"''Tes a brave long way from here to England,' says Sam.
+
+"'I knaws what you be thinkin' 'bout,' says the Commodore.
+'You'm reckonin' I'll spile on the way.  But I don't mean 'ee to go
+by say.  You mus' take me 'cross the bay an' then ship aboard a
+train, as'll take 'ee dro Seville, an' Madrid, an' Paris, to Dover.
+'Tes a fast train,' says he, 'as trains go i' these parts; but I'm
+doubtin' ef et starts ivery day or only dree times a week.  I reckon,
+tho', ef you finds out, I can manage so's my dyin' shan't interfere
+wi' that.'
+
+"Well, Sam was forced to promise, an' the Commodore seemed mighty
+relieved, an' lay still while Sam read to 'n out o' the books that
+th' ould man had by 'n.  There was the Bible, and the Pellican's
+Progress, an' Philip Quarles, an' Hannah Snell, the female sodger.
+Sam read a bit from each, an' when he comes to that part about
+Christ'n crossing the river, th' ould man sets up sudden an' calls,
+'Land, Sam, land!  Fetch a glass, lad!'--just like that, sir; an' wi'
+that falls back dead.
+
+"Well, sir, Sam was 'most out o' hes wits, fust along, for grief to
+lose hes maaster; but he warn't the man to go back 'pon hes word.
+So he loses no time, but, bein' a handy man, rigs up a wooden chest
+wi' the help o' a ship's carpenter, an' a tin case to ship into this,
+an' dresses up the Commodore inside, an' nails 'un down proper; an'
+wi'in twenty-four hours puts across in a boat, 'long wi' hes charge,
+for to catch the train.
+
+"He hadn' barely set foot on shore, an' was givin' orders about
+carryin' the chest up to the stashun, un' thinkin' 'pon the
+hollerness o' earthly ways, as was nat'ral, when up steps a chap in
+highly-coloured breeches an' axes 'un ef he'd anything to declare.
+
+"Sam had disremembered all 'bout the Customs, you see, sir.
+
+"Hows'ever, et mou't ha' been all right, on'y Sam, though he could
+tackle the lingo a bit--just enough to get along wi' on a journey,
+that es--suddenly found that he disknowledged the Spanish for
+'corpse.'  He found out, sir, afore the day was out; but just now he
+looks at the chap i' the colour'd breeches and says--
+
+"'No, I ha'nt.'
+
+"'What's i' that box?' says the chap.
+
+"Now this was azackly what Sam cudn' tell 'un; so, for lack of
+anything better, he says--
+
+"'What's that to you?'
+
+"'I reckon I must ha' that chest open,' says the chap.
+
+"'I reckon you'll be sorry ef you do,' says Sam.
+
+"'Tell me what's inside, then.'
+
+"'Why, darn your Spanish eyes!' cries Sam, 'can't 'ee see I be tryin'
+to think 'pon the word for corpse?'
+
+"But the chap cudn', of cou'se; so he called another in breeches just
+as gay as hes own, on'y stripier; and then for up ten minutes 'twas
+Dover to pay, all talkers an' no listeners.  I reckon 'twas as Sal
+said to the Frenchman, 'The less you talks, the better I understands
+'ee.'  But Sam's blud were up by this time.  Hows'ever, nat'rally he
+was forced to gi'e way, and they tuk the box into the Custom House,
+an' sent for hammer an' screw-driver.
+
+"'Seems to me,' says the chap, prizin' the lid open a bit, an'
+snifnn', 'et smells oncommon like sperrits.'
+
+"'I'm thinkin',' says Sam, ef _you'd_ been kep' goin' on
+brandy-an'-milk for a week an' more, _you'd_ smell like sperrits.'
+
+"'I guess 'tes sperrits,' says wan.
+
+"'Or 'baccy,' says anuther.
+
+"'Or furrin fruits,' says a third.
+
+"'Well, you'm wrong,' says Sam, ''cos 'tes a plain British Commodore;
+an' I reckon ef you taxes _that_ sort o' import, you dunno what's
+good for 'ee.'
+
+"At las', sir, they prizes open the chest an' the tin case, an'
+there, o' cou'se, lay th' ould man, sleepin' an' smilin' so
+paiceful-like he looked ha'f a Commodore an' ha'f a cherry-bun."
+
+"I suppose you mean 'cherubim,' Caleb?" corrected Mr. Fogo.
+
+"I s'pose I do, sir; tho' I reckon th' ould man seemed happier than
+he were, havin' been a 'nation scamp in hes young days, an' able to
+swear to the las' so's t'wud pretty nigh fetch the mortar out'n a
+brick wall.  Hows'ever, that's not to the p'int here.
+
+"Aw, sir, you may fancy how them poor ign'rant furriners left that
+Custom House.  Sam told me arterwards 'twere like shellin' peas--
+spakin' in pinafores--"
+
+"Metaphors," said Mr. Fogo.
+
+"That's et--met-afores.  Anyway, they jest fetched a yell, an' then
+_went_, sir.  I guess Sam knawed the Spanish for 'corpse' afore
+they was gone.  In less 'n a minnit not a pair o' coloured breeches
+cud you find, not ef you wanted them fancy articles ever so.
+Sam chuckles a bit to hissel', fas'ens down the lid so well as he
+cud, h'ists the Commodore aboard a wheelbarrer, an' trundles 'un off
+to the train.
+
+"He cotches the train jest as 'twere startin', an' sails away in a
+fust-class carr'ge all to hissel', wi' the Commodore laid 'long the
+seat opposite; 'for,' said Sam, 'drat expense when a fun'ral's
+goin'!'  An' all the way he chuckles an' grins to hissel', to think
+o' the start he'd gi'ed they Custom House rascals; an' at las' he
+gets that tickled he's bound to lie back an' fairly hurt hissel' wi'
+laffin'.
+
+"I reckon, tho', he laffed a bit too early; for jest then the train
+slowed down, and pulled up at a stashun.  Sam looked out an' saw a
+dapper little man a-bustlin' up an' down the platform, like a bee in
+a bottle, an' pryin' into the carr'ge windeys same as ef the train
+were a peep-show.  Presently he opens the door of Sam's compartment,
+an' axes, holdin' up a tellygram--
+
+"'Be you the party as es travellin' wi' a dead man?'
+
+"He spoke i' Spanish, o' cou'se, sir; but, not knowin' the tongue, I
+tells et to you in English."
+
+"I had guessed that to be the reason," replied Mr. Fogo.
+
+"Well, Sam were a bit tuk aback, but he answers--
+
+"'Iss, I be.  Why?'
+
+"'Want 'un berried?'
+
+"'Why, no, not partic'lar.  Sooner or later, o' cou'se; but, thank'ee
+all the same, I'm thinkin' to do et a bit furder on.'
+
+"'Then,' says the dapper man, 'I'll trouble you to hand over the
+berryin' fees for this parish.'
+
+"'But I baint goin' to berry deceased i' this parish.'
+
+"'That don't matter.  Ef a corpse has use o' this parish, he's got to
+pay fees.'
+
+"'How's that?'
+
+"'Why, a corpse es dead,' says the chap; 'you'll allow that, I
+s'pose?'
+
+"'Iss,' says Sam, 'I reckon I'll allow that.'
+
+"'An' ef a corpse es i' this parish, he's dead i' this parish?'
+
+"'Likely he es,' admits Sam.
+
+"'Well, 'cordin' to law, anybody dead i' this parish es boun' to be
+berried i' this parish, an' therefore to pay fees,' says the man;
+'and now I hopes you'll hand over the money, 'cos the train's
+waitin'.'
+
+"Sam was for a raisin' a rumpus, an' gathered a crowd roun' the door;
+but they all sided wi' the dapper man, and said 'twas Spaniards' law,
+an' ef he wudn' pay, he must get out an' berry the Commodore there
+an' then.  So he gi'ed in and pulled out the money, an' off they
+starts, the dapper man standin' an' bowin' 'pon the platform.
+
+"Well, Sam leant back an' ciphered et out, an' cudn' see the sense
+o't.  'But,' says he, 'when you'm in Turkey you do as the Turkeys do,
+'cordin' to the proverb, so I guess 'tes all right; an' ef et 'pears
+wrong, 'tes on'y that I bain't used to travellin' wi' corpses;' an'
+wi' that he settles down an' goes to sleep.
+
+"He hadn' been long sleepin' when the train pulls up agen, an' arter
+a minnit in comes anuther chap wi' a tellygram.
+
+"'Deceased?' axes the chap, pointin' to the chest.
+
+"'Mod'rately,' says Sam.
+
+"'Wants berryin' p'raps?' says the chap.
+
+"'I reckon he'll hold on a bit longer.'
+
+"'Next parish, likely?'
+
+"'Why, iss,' says Sam, 'or next arter that.'
+
+"'Ah, what et es to be rich!' says the man, kind o' envious-like.
+
+"'What do 'ee mean by that?' Sam axes.
+
+"'Niver mind,' answers the man.  ''Twarn't no bus'ness o' mines.
+Wud 'ee kindly hand me the fees for this parish?'
+
+"Well, Sam argeys the matter agen, but i' the end he pays up:
+'Tho',' says he, 'I'd a notion travellin' were costly afore this, but
+darn me! you've got to be dead afore you sizes et.  I've heerd as a
+man can't take nuthin' out o' this world, but blest ef I iver got the
+grip o' that tex' till I travelled i' Spain.'
+
+"Well, sir, purty soon the same thing happened agen, an', to shorten
+the yarn, ivery time they got into a new parish an' pulled up,
+in walked a chap wi' a tellygram an' axed for berryin'-fees.
+Luckily, there was money to pay mun, for the Commodore had left a
+bravish sum for travellin' expenses, and by-'m-by Sam begins to take
+a sort o' pride in pullin' out hes purse.
+
+"'Talk 'bout fun'rals!' says he, 'I reckon this es suthin' _like_.
+Adm'ral Nelson! why, Adm'ral Nelson didn' cost ha'f so much!  An' you
+ain't but a Commodore,' says he.  'Devil fly away wi' 'ee, maaster,
+but so long as the coin lasts Sam won't cry 'Woa!''
+
+"The words warn't fairly out o' hes mouth, sir, when the train draws
+up, an' in steps another man.  He comed in so quiet that Sam didn'
+see 'un at first; but when he turned roun', there was the man
+standin' an' starin' at 'un.  'Twas a strange-looking party, dressed
+i' black--a better-most body, like.
+
+"'Aw, good eveling!' says Sam.
+
+"'Good eveling,' says the man i' black, an' nods t'wards the chest.
+'How's deceased?'
+
+"'Gettin' a bit costly,' answers Sam, 'but doin' purty well,
+consederin'.  You'm wantin' more fees, I reckon'; an' wi' that he
+dives hes hand into hes trowsy-pocket.
+
+"'I don't want no fees,' says the man.
+
+"Sam was knacked 'pon a heap wi' this.
+
+"'Well, then, you'm the fust man I've a-met in Spain as doesn',' he
+says.
+
+"That ain't onlikely,' says the man; and Sam noticed for the fust
+time that he'd a-been speakin' English all along.  'I be
+a-travellin', same as you,' he adds.
+
+"'You'll 'scuse me, sir, but this compartment es resarved.'
+
+"'That's a pity,' says the stranger, ''cos the train's a-started.'
+
+"So 'twas.  Sam hadn' a-noticed et, but they was movin' on.
+Hows'ever, he detarmined to make the best o't; so he ups and says,
+perlite-like--
+
+"'Terrable hot weather this, ain't et, sir?'  Somehow et seemed to
+Sam as ef et had got hotter sence the stranger comed in.
+
+"'I don't feel so mighty hot,' says the man.  'But there, I've a-been
+a gude deal in hot countries.  How's deceased takin' the journey?'
+says he.
+
+"'He ain't complainin'; but, then, in life he warn't a complainin'
+sort.  Aw, sir, but a man must be over-nice ef a fun'ral like thes
+don't satisfy 'n.  Phew! but 'tes awful!'
+
+"'What's awful?'
+
+"'The heat,' answers Sam, moppin' his forehead; 'but I s'pose you'm
+a traveller, an' 'customed to heat.'
+
+"'Why, iss,' says t'other, 'I do travel a purty passel to an' fro
+'pon th' earth.  Few folks travels more'n me.'
+
+"Well, et kep' gettin' hotter an' hotter; an' Sam cussed an' mopped,
+an' mopped an' cussed, an' all the time the stranger were cool an'
+aisy.  He kep' axin', too, 'bout th' ould Commodore an' hes past
+life, an' 'peared to take interes' in Sam, an' altogither seemed a
+proper gen'l'm'n.  An' all the time et kep' gettin' hotter an'
+hotter, till Sam were fairly runnin' to waste wi' sweatin'.  At las'
+he pops hes head out'n the windey for fresh air, an' cries out--
+
+"'Hulloa!  here's a stashun.'
+
+"Well, the train pulls up, an' Sam says to the stranger--
+
+"'Look 'ee here.  Wud 'ee mind keepin' your eye 'pon th' ould man
+while I runs out to get a drink?  I reckoned I knawed thirst afore
+this,' he says, 'but I were mistook.'
+
+"The stranger was very willin', and away Sam goes.
+
+"He warn't away more'n a minnit; but when he comes back an' takes a
+look at the platform, my! Sir! there warn't no trace of the train to
+be seen--not a vestment.  You see, they don't blaw no whissle in
+Spain when the train goes; an' there was poor Sam left stranded.
+
+"Well, he tellygrafs o' cou'se to the nex' stashun, an' in less 'n an
+hour back comes an answer to say as they searched the train when et
+stopped, an' there warn't no corpse there, nor chest, nor nuthin'.
+An' ef you'll believe me, sir," concluded Caleb, bending forward and
+touching his master's knee, "th' ould Commodore ha'n't niver been
+found fro' that day to this.  Et 'most broke Sam's heart; an', as he
+said to me wan time, 'For all I knaws 'twas the devil; and for all I
+knaws th' ould maaster be travellin' roun' Spain to this day; but ef
+so,' says he, 'I reckon by this time he's like Patty Ward's pig--no
+lavender.'"
+
+
+"That's a very curious tale," said Mr. Fogo, as Caleb leant back in
+the window-seat and awaited its effect.
+
+"'Tes so true, sir, as I'm here--or so Sam used to say.  An' the
+moral goes agen talkin' lightly o' what a man don't understand," he
+added reflectively.  "But forebodin' es so bad as witch-craf', an'
+'tes more'n likely they won't come to-night; but if they does, 'tes
+on'y fair to ax mun who they be dree times afore firin'.  What's fair
+for man es fair--"
+
+He broke off and clutched his master by the arm.
+
+"Look, sir--look!"
+
+About the deck of the old schooner a shaft of light was dancing
+fitfully--now here, now there, up and down--and all without visible
+source or guidance.
+
+The two watchers leapt to their feet and peered out at the window.
+
+The strange brilliance flickered to and fro, falling even on the
+further bank, and threading with a line of yellow the silver-grey of
+the moonlight.  Then it ceased suddenly.
+
+Caleb and his master waited breathlessly.  Half a minute passed
+without further sign.  Then they heard a light splash or two, and Mr.
+Fogo pointed frantically at the line of the moon's reflection on the
+creek.
+
+"There!  Look--the boat!"
+
+Caleb whipped the blunderbuss up to his shoulder and shouted--
+
+"Who be 'ee?  Darn 'ee, here goes--wan, two, dree, all to wanst!"
+
+He pulled the trigger.  A tongue of flame leapt forth and burst upon
+the night with a terrific explosion; and as Caleb fell backwards with
+the shock, the clumsy engine slipped from his fingers and fell with a
+clatter upon Mr. Fogo's instep.
+
+When the pair recovered and looked forth again, the echoes had died
+away, and once more the night was tranquil.
+
+
+   Footnotes, Chapter XIX
+   [1] A monotonous chant or burthen.
+   [2] A fiddler.
+   [3] Thick-set.
+   [4] Stout.
+   [5] Strength.
+   [6] Kin.
+   [7] A concealed compartment or drawer.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX.
+
+
+HOW CERTAIN CHARACTERS FOUND THEMSELVES, AT DEAD OF NIGHT, UPON THE
+FIVE LANES ROAD.
+
+Panting, slipping, with aching sides, but terror at his heels, Sam
+Buzza tore up the hill.  Lights danced before him, imaginary voices
+shouted after; but he never glanced behind.  The portmanteau was
+monstrously heavy, and more than once he almost dropped it; but it
+was tightly packed, apparently, for nothing shook inside it.
+Only the handles creaked in his grasp.
+
+He gained the top, shifted the load to his left hand, and raced down
+the other side of the hill.  How he reached the bottom he cannot
+clearly call to mind; but he dug his heels well into the turf, and
+arrived without a fall.  At the foot of the slope a wire fence had to
+be crossed; next the railway line, then, across the embankment,
+another fence, which kept a shred of his clothing.  A meadow
+followed, and then he dropped over the hedge into the high road.
+
+Here he stopped, set down the portmanteau, and looked about him.
+All was quiet.  So vivid was the moonlight that as looking down the
+road he could mark every bush, every tuft of grass almost, on the
+illumined side.  Not a soul was in sight.
+
+The night was warm, and his flight had heated him intolerably.
+He felt for his handkerchief to mop his brow, but snatched his hand
+away.
+
+His coat was burning.  It was the lantern.  Like a fool he had
+forgotten to blow it out, and an abominable smell of oil and burning
+cloth now arose from his pocket.  He stifled the smouldering fire,
+pulled out the lantern, and looked at his watch.
+
+It wanted twenty minutes to eleven.
+
+He had plenty of time; so, having extinguished the lantern, and
+bestowed it in another pocket, he caught up his burden and began to
+walk up the road at a leisurely pace.
+
+His terrors had cooled, but nevertheless he wished himself well out
+of the scrape.  The report of the gun still rang in his ears and in
+fancy he could hear again the buzz of that bullet by his ear.  More
+than once a shadow lying across the white road gave him a twinge of
+fear; and when a placid cow poked its nose over the hedge above him,
+and lowed confidentially, he leapt almost out of his skin.
+
+The task before him, too, gave him no small anxiety.  The directions
+in the letter were plain enough, but not so the intention of Mrs.
+Goodwyn-Sandys.  Did she mean him to elope with her?  He did not care
+to face the question.  The Admiral, though an indulgent father, was
+not extravagant; and Sam had but seven-and-sixpence in his pocket.
+This was an excellent sum for long whist at threepenny points, but
+would hardly defray the cost of an elopement.  Besides, he did not
+want to elope.
+
+"No _words_ of mine will repay you."  Now he came to consider, these
+words wore an awkward look.  Good Heavens! he had a mind to drop
+the portmanteau and run home.  What had he done to be tempted so?
+And why had these people ever come to Troy?
+
+Ah! Sam, that was the question we should have asked ourselves months
+ago.  Some time before, at a concert in the Town Hall, I remember
+that Mr. Moggridge sang the line--
+
+    "Too late the balm when the heart is broke!"
+
+And a Trojan voice at the back assented--
+
+"A durn sight."
+
+Why had we been denied that perspicacity now?
+
+So with a heavy burden, and heavier conscience (both of Mrs.
+Goodwyn-Sandys' packing), he trudged forward, kicking up clouds of
+dust that sparkled in the moonlight.  Presently the ascent grew more
+gradual, the hedges lower, and over their tops he could feel the
+upland air breathing coolly from the sea.  And now the sign-post hove
+in sight, and the cross-roads stretching whitely into distance.
+
+If we take the town of Troy as a base, lying north and south, this
+sign-post forms the apex of a triangle which has two high-roads for
+its remaining sides--the one road entering Troy from the north by the
+hill which Sam had just ascended, the other running southwards and
+ending with a steep declivity at no great distance from "The Bower."
+
+It was by this southern road, of course, that Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys
+would come.  Sam looked along it, but all as yet was silent.
+He pulled out his watch again, and, finding that he had still twenty
+minutes to spare, set down his load at the foot of the signpost, and
+began to walk to and fro.
+
+So gloomy were his reflections that, to soothe his nerves, he pulled
+out a cigar, lit it, and then, for lack of anything better to do,
+rekindled his lantern, and resumed his walk.
+
+The cigar was barely half smoked when he heard a noise in the
+distance.
+
+Yes, there was no doubt.  It was the sound of horses.  Sam caught up
+the portmanteau, and stared down the highway.  For a full minute he
+listened to the advancing clatter, and presently, around an angle of
+the road, a chaise and pair broke into view, and came up at a gallop.
+
+Sam advanced a step or two; a white handkerchief was thrust out at
+the window, and the driver pulled up suddenly.  Then the face of Mrs.
+Goodwyn-Sandys looked anxiously out.
+
+"Ah! you are there," she exclaimed with a little cry of relief.
+"I have been so afraid.  Have you got it?"
+
+In the moonlight, and that pretty air of timidity on her face, she
+was more ravishing than ever.  Her voice called as a siren's; her
+eyes drew Sam irresistibly.  In a second all his fears, doubts,
+scruples, were flung to the winds.  He held up the portmanteau, and
+advanced to the carriage door.
+
+"Here it is.  Geraldine--"
+
+"Oh! thanks, thanks.  How can I show my thanks?"
+
+The perfume of her hair floated out upon the night with the music of
+her tone until they both fairly intoxicated him.
+
+He opened the door of the chaise.
+
+"Where shall I stow it?" he asked.
+
+"Here, opposite me; be very careful of it."
+
+In the darkness he saw a huge bundle of rugs piled by Geraldine's
+side.
+
+"Where am I to sit?" he asked, as he bestowed the portmanteau
+carefully.
+
+He looked up into her face.  The loveliest smile rested on him, for
+one instant, from those incomparable eyes.  She did not answer, but
+held out her hand with the grace of a maiden confessing her first
+passion.  He seized the ungloved fingers, and kissed them.
+
+"Geraldine!"
+
+At this moment a low chuckle issued from the bundle of rugs.
+Sam dropped the hand, and started back as if stung.  A hateful
+thought flashed upon him.
+
+"Moggridge?  But no--"
+
+He seized his lantern, and turned the slide.  A stream of light shot
+into the corner of the chaise, and revealed--the bland face of Mr.
+Goodwyn-Sandys!
+
+
+There was an instant of blank dismay.  Then, with a peal of laughter,
+Geraldine sank back among the cushions.
+
+"_Good_-night!" said the Honourable Frederic with grim affability;
+then, popping his head out at the further window, "Drive on, John!"
+
+The post-boy cracked his whip, the horses sprang forward, and Sam,
+with that pitiless laugh still pealing in his ears, was left standing
+on the high-road.
+
+In the tumult of the moment, beyond a wild sense of injustice, it is
+my belief that his brain accomplished little.  He stared dully after
+the retreating chaise, until it disappeared in the direction of Five
+Lanes; and then he groaned aloud.
+
+There was a patch of turf, now heavy with dew, beside the sign-post.
+Upon this he sat down, and with his elbows on his knees, and head
+between his hands, strove to still the giddy whirl in his brain.  And
+as his folly and its bitterness found him out, the poor fool rocked
+himself, and cursed the day when he was born.  If any one yet doubt
+that Mr. Moggridge was an inspired singer, let him turn to that
+sublime aspiration in _Sophronia: a Tragedy_--
+
+    "Let me be criminal, but never weak;
+     For weaklings wear the stunted form of sin
+     Without its brave apparel"--
+
+and considered Sam Buzza as he writhed beneath the sign-post.
+
+_Pat, pat, pat!_
+
+It was the muffled sound of footsteps on the dusty road.  He looked
+up.  A dark figure, the figure of a woman, was approaching.  Its air
+of timorous alertness, and its tendency to seek the shadow of the
+hedge-row, gave him some confidence.  He arose, and stepped forward
+into the broad moonlight.
+
+The woman gave a short gasp and came to a halt, shrinking back
+against the hedge.  Something in her outline struck sharply on Sam's
+sense, though with a flash of doubt and wonder.  She carried a small
+handbag, and wore a thick veil over her face.
+
+"Who are you?" he asked gently.  "Don't be afraid."
+
+The woman made no answer--only cowered more closely against the
+hedge; and he heard her breath coming hard and fast.  Once more--and
+for the third time that night--Sam pulled the slide of his lantern.
+
+"_Mother!_"
+
+"Oh!  Sam, Sam, don't betray me!  I'll go back--indeed I'll go back!"
+
+"In Heaven's name, mother, what are you doing here?"
+
+The retort was obvious, but Mrs. Buzza merely cried--
+
+"Dear Sam, have pity on me, and take me back!  I'll go quietly--quite
+quietly."
+
+The idea of his mother (who weighed eighteen stone if an ounce)
+resisting with kicks and struggles might have caused Sam some
+amusement, but his brain was overcrowded already.
+
+"It's a judgment," she went on incoherently, wringing her hands;
+"and I thought I had planned it so cleverly.  I dressed up his
+double-bass, Sam, and put it in the bed--oh! I am a wicked woman--and
+pinned a note to the pin-cushion to say he had driven me to it,
+throwing the breakfast things over the quay-door--real Worcester,
+Sam, and marked at the bottom of each piece; and a carriage from the
+Five Lanes Hotel to meet me at twelve o'clock; but I'd rather go
+home, Sam; I've been longing, all the way, to go back; it's been
+haunting me, that double-bass, all the time--with my nightcap,
+too--the one with real lace--on the head of it.  Oh! take me home,
+Sam.  I'm a wicked woman!"
+
+Sam, after all, was a Trojan, and I therefore like to record his
+graces.  He drew his mother's arm within his with much tenderness,
+kissed her, and began to lead her homewards quietly and without
+question.
+
+But the poor soul could not be silent; and so, very soon, the whole
+story came out.  At the mention of Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys Sam shut his
+teeth sharply.
+
+"I shall never be able to face her, Sam."
+
+"I don't think you need trouble about that, mother," he answered
+grimly.
+
+"But I do.  It was she--"
+
+But at this moment, from the hedge, a few yards in front, there
+issued a hollow groan.
+
+They halted, and questioned each other with frightened eyes.
+
+"Geraldine!" wailed the voice.  "Cruel, perjured Geraldine!"
+
+"It was going on just like this," whispered Mrs. Buzza, "when I came
+along.  I shut my eyes, and ran past as hard as I could; but my head
+was so full of voices and cries that I didn't know if 'twas real or
+only my fancy."
+
+"Geraldine!" continued the voice.  "Oh! dig my grave--my shroud
+prepare; for she was false as she was fair.  Geraldine, my
+Geraldine!"
+
+"Moggridge, by all that's holy!" cried Sam.
+
+It was even so.  They advanced a few yards, and to the right of the
+road, beside a gate, they saw him.  The poet reclined limply against
+the hedge, and with his head propped upon a carpet-bag gazed
+dolefully into the moon's face.
+
+"Thou bid'st me," he began again, "thou bid'st me think no more about
+thee; but, tell me, what is life without thee?  A scentless flower, a
+blighted--"
+
+At the sound of their footsteps he looked round, stared blankly into
+Sam's face, and then, snatching up the carpet-bag, leapt to his feet
+and tore down the road as fast as he could go.
+
+Sam paused.  They had reached the brow of the steeper descent, where
+the road takes a sudden determination, and plunges abruptly into the
+valley, Below, the roofs of the little town lay white and sparkling,
+and straight from a wreath of vapour the graceful tower of St.
+Symphorian leapt into the clearer heaven.  Beyond, a network of
+lights glimmered, like fire-flies, from the vessels at anchor in the
+harbour.  The Penpoodle Hill, on the further shore, wore a tranquil
+halo; and to the right, outside the harbour's mouth, the grey sea was
+laced with silver.
+
+"Did you ever see anything more lovely?"
+
+Mrs. Buzza murmured the words with no desire to be answered.  It was
+the old Trojan formula, and there was peace in the sound of it.
+
+"Do you know," she cried, turning to Sam, "we were very happy
+before these people came.  We shall never be the same again--never.
+Sam, I feel as if our innocence had ended, Oh! I am a wicked woman.
+Look below, Sam dear, I have never thought of it before, but how
+sweet it would have been to have enclosed the old town in a
+ring-fence, and lived our days in quiet!  It is too late now; more
+will come, and they will build and alter, and no one will be able to
+stop it.  Even if these people should go, it will never be the same
+again.  Oh! I am a sinful woman."
+
+Sam looked at his mother.  Something familiar, but hitherto
+half-comprehended, spoke to him in her words.  He drew her arm once
+more within his own, and they descended the hill together.
+
+Stealing like ghosts into the front hall of No. 2, Alma Villas, they
+were startled to perceive the dining-room door ajar, and a light
+shining out into the passage.  Creeping forward on tip-toe, they
+peeped in.
+
+Beside the table and with his back towards them, sat the Admiral in
+his dressing-gown.  His right hand grasped the throat of the
+double-bass, on the top of which nodded Mrs. Buzza's night-cap.
+His left fumbled with a large miniature that lay on the table before
+him--a portrait of Mrs. Buzza, taken in the days when she was still
+Emily Rogers and the Belle of Portsmouth; and from this to the
+instrument and back again the Admiral's gaze wandered, as if
+painfully comparing the likeness.
+
+
+[Illustration: With his back towards them sat the Admiral.]
+
+
+"Hornaby!"  This was the Admiral's Christian name.
+
+"Emily!"
+
+He turned and stared at her stupidly.  The look was pitiful.
+She flung herself before him.
+
+"Forgive me, Hornaby!  I never thought--I mean, it was all a--"
+
+"Practical joke," suggested Sam.
+
+"No, no.  I meant to go, but I have come back.  Hornaby, can you
+forgive me?"
+
+He raised her up, and drew her towards him very tenderly.
+
+"I--I thought it had _killed_ me," he muttered hoarsely.  "Emily, I
+have treated you badly."
+
+Sam discreetly withdrew.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI.
+
+
+THAT A VERY LITTLE TEA MAY SUFFICE TO ELEVATE A MAN.
+
+Next morning Mr. Fogo was aroused from sleep by the rattle of
+breakfast-cups, and the voice of Caleb singing below--
+
+    "O, Amble es a fine town, wi' ships in the bay,
+     An' I wish wi' my heart I was on'y there to-day;
+     I wish wi' my heart I was far away from here,
+     A-sittin' in my parlour, an' a-talkin' to my dear."
+
+This was Caleb's signal for his master to rise; and he would pipe out
+his old sea-staves as long as Mr. Fogo cared to listen.  Often, of an
+evening, the two would sit by the hour, Caleb trolling lustily with
+red cheeks, while his master beat time with his pipe stem, and joined
+feebly in the chorus--
+
+    "Then 'tes home, dearie, home--O, 'tes home I wants to be!
+     My tawps'les are h'isted, an' I must out to sea.
+     Then 'tes home, dearie, home!"
+
+Mr. Fogo arose and looked forth at the window.  The morning was
+perfect; the air fresh with dew and the scent of awakening roses.
+Across the creek the old hull lay as peacefully as ever.
+
+"I will explore it this very morning," thought Mr. Fogo to himself.
+
+The resolve was still strong as he descended to breakfast.  Caleb was
+still singing--
+
+    "O, ef et be a lass, she shall wear a goulden ring;
+     An' ef et be a lad, he shall live to sarve hes king;
+     Wi' hes buckles, an' hes butes, an' hes little jacket blue,
+     He shall walk the quarter-deck, as hes daddy used to do.
+     Then 'tes home--"
+
+"Mornin', sir, an' axin' your pardon for singin' o' Sunday.  How be
+feelin' arter et?--as Grace said to her cheeld when her rubbed in the
+cough-mixtur' an' made 'un swaller the lineament."
+
+"Do you mean after the ghost?"
+
+"Iss, sir.  There's no dead body about, so ghost et were.  I were
+a-thinkin', wi' your lave, sir, I'd go down to Troy to church this
+mornin'; I wants to be exercised a bit arter all this witchcraf'."
+
+Mr. Fogo wondered at this proposal to go to church for exercise, but
+readily granted leave.  Nor was it until Caleb had departed that
+"exorcised" occurred to him as a _varia lectio_.
+
+Left to himself, Mr. Fogo spent a tranquil hour among his roses; and
+then, remembering his determination, unmoored his boat and prepared
+to satisfy his doubts.
+
+The tide was low--so low that on the further side of the old wreck
+his paddles plunged once or twice into mud.  Nor was it easy to swing
+himself on board; but a rusty chain helped him, and after one or two
+failures he stood upon deck.
+
+All was desolation.  He peered down into the hold, where the water
+lay deep and still; crawled forward, and peeped through a shattered
+deadlight into the forecastle.  The water was here, too, though it
+had drained somewhat, owing to the depression amidships; but nothing
+to explain the mystery.
+
+Mr. Fogo crept aft with better hopes of success, gained the poop, and
+peered down the companion.  The light was too dim to reveal anything.
+Nothing daunted, he crawled down the ladder and into the captain's
+cabin.
+
+The first thing to catch his eye was an empty packing-case, with a
+heap of shavings and cotton-wool beside it.  On the side of the case
+was printed in blue letters--"_ Wapshott and Sons.  Chicago.  Patent
+Compressed Tea.  With Care_."  Mr. Fogo poked his nose inside it.
+A faint smell of tea still lingered about the wood.
+
+Next he inspected the cupboards.  Some were open and all unlocked.
+He went over them all.  At the end he found himself the richer by--
+
+     A watch-glass.
+     Three brass buttons  (one bearing the initials P. J., and all
+     coated with verdigris).
+     A pair of nut-crackers.
+     Several leaves of a devotional work entitled "Where shall I be
+     To-morrow? or, Thoughts for Mariners."
+     A key.
+     An oily rag.
+     The cap of a telescope.
+     An empty bottle, labelled, and bearing in faded ink: "Poison.
+     For Dick Collins, when his leg is bad."
+
+On the whole this was not encouraging.  Mr. Fogo was turning to
+abandon the search, when something upon the cabin-floor caught his
+eye.
+
+He stooped and picked it up.  It was a lady's glove.
+
+Mr. Fogo turned it over in his hand.  It was a dainty six-buttoned
+glove, of a light tan colour, and showed scarcely a trace of wear.
+
+"This is very odd," muttered he; "I can hardly fancy a smuggler
+wearing this, still less a ghost."
+
+With his thoughts still running on the woman he had seen upon the
+deck, he advanced to the packing-case again, and was beginning
+absently to kick aside the heap of shavings and cotton-wool, when his
+foot encountered some hard object.  He bent down and drew it forth.
+
+It was a small tin case or canister, of oblong shape, and measured
+some four inches by two.  It was perhaps two inches in depth.  On the
+cover was a label, and on the label the legend--
+
+               "WAPSHOTTS' PATENT COMPRESSED TEA."
+
+                   "_Beware of Imitations._"
+
+The lid was lightly soldered, and the canister remarkably heavy.
+
+Mr. Fogo pulled out his pocket-knife, sat down on the edge of the
+packing-case, and began to open his prize.
+
+He had broken one blade in trying to unfasten the solder, and was
+beginning with the second, when it occurred to him to cut through the
+soft metal of the canister.  In a few minutes he had worked a
+considerable hole in the lid.
+
+"Very curious tea this," remarked Mr. Fogo.  "It's a deal more like
+putty--or Californian honey."
+
+The light in the cabin was faint; he determined to carry the canister
+on deck and examine it in the sunlight.
+
+He picked his way up the ladder, and was just emerging from the
+hatch, when the sudden glare of the sun caused him to blink and then
+sneeze.  He caught his toe on the last step, stumbled, dropped his
+prize, and fell forward on to the deck.  The canister struck the
+step, jolted twice, plunged to the bottom with a smart thud--
+
+There was a flash of jagged flame, a loud roar, a heave and crash
+of riven timbers--and the old hull had passed from decay to
+annihilation.
+
+
+
+This would seem a convenient moment for regulating our watches, which
+have gained considerably, and putting back the hands to half-past
+ten, at which hour the bells of St. Symphorian's, Troy, began to
+summon the town to worship.
+
+A few minutes later the town sallied forth in pairs and decorous
+excitement.  It was dying to see Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys' costume, and
+marched churchwards in haste.  But to-day it halted for the most part
+at the church-porch, and went no further.
+
+Who first whispered the news is disputed.  It is conjectured that
+Mrs. Tripp, whose cow supplied "The Bower" with milk, learnt the
+facts from the buttoned youth when she paid her professional call at
+7.30 a.m.; but none knew for certain.  I might here paint Mrs. Tripp
+full of tongues, and dress her up as "Rumour," after the best epic
+models; but in saying that she had the usual number of lips and
+hands, that her parents were respectable, and that she never shrieked
+from a lofty tower in her life, I only do her the barest justice.
+
+This much is sure--that among the knot of loungers at the church-gate
+such sentences as the following passed from mouth to mouth--
+
+"Es et true, do'ee think?"
+
+"Certain--carr'ge an' pair from Five Lanes las' night--not a word
+said."
+
+"My!"
+
+"Ef so, this town's been purtily robbed."
+
+"That's a true word."
+
+Then this happened--
+
+The Trojan in broadcloth heard, as he passed, the words of the Trojan
+in corduroy; inquired, shook his head, and walked on; doubted; turned
+back to hear more; consulted his wife; and decided to go and see.
+
+The consequence was that at ten minutes to eleven the stream of
+church-goers descending along the Parade was met by another stream
+rolling towards "The Bower" and every moment gathering volume.
+As there was no place of worship in this direction, a conference
+followed the confluence.  The churchgoers turned, joined the larger
+stream, and the whole flood poured uphill.
+
+Outside "The Bower" they halted for a moment.  One tradesman, a
+furniture dealer, bolder than the rest, advanced to the front-door
+and knocked.
+
+The boy in buttons answered with a white face.  In a moment the truth
+was out.
+
+This whisper among the crowd grew to a murmur, the murmur to a roar.
+In vain the church-bell tolled out the single note that summons the
+parson.  The dismay of the cheated town waxed to hot indignation.
+Even Miss Limpenny, issuing from her front door, heard the news, and
+returned in a stupor to watch matters from her bedroom window.
+She had not missed a morning service for fourteen years.
+
+Then as if by one impulse passion gave way to action.  Like an
+invading army the townspeople poured in at the gate, trampling the
+turf and crushing the flower-beds.  They forced the front door
+(whence the page fled, to hide in the cellar), pushed into the hall,
+swarmed into the drawing-room--upstairs--all over the house.
+
+Only in the bedrooms were there signs of a hasty flight; but they
+were enough.  The strangers had decamped.  There was a pause of
+indecision, but for no long time.
+
+"Sunday or no Sunday," screamed the choleric upholsterer, "every
+stick of mine will I take off this morning!"
+
+He tucked up his sleeves, and, flinging open the French window of the
+drawing-room, caught up an arm-chair, and began to drag it out
+towards the lawn.
+
+A cheer followed.  The Trojan blood was up.
+
+It was the signal for a general sack.  Flinging off his Sunday coat,
+each deluded tradesman seized upon his property, or ransacked the
+house until he found it.  The ironmonger caught up his fire-irons,
+the carpenter pulled down his shelves, the grocer dived into the
+pantry and emerged with tea and candles.  It is said that the
+coal-merchant--who was a dandy--procured a sack, and with his own
+hand emptied the coal-cellar within half an hour.
+
+As each fresh article was confiscated, the crowd cheered anew.
+
+Never was such a scene in Troy.  Even the local aristocracy--
+the _Cumeelfo_--mingled with the throng and watched the havoc as
+curiously as their neighbours.
+
+No member of the Buzza family was there, nor Mr. Moggridge.  But few
+others did Miss Limpenny fail to perceive as she sat with hands
+hanging limply and mourned to Lavinia--
+
+"What disgrace!  What a lasting blemish upon our society!  There goes
+Hancock with the music-stool.  To run away just before quarter-day,
+and they so refined to all appearance, so--My dear, they will have
+the house down.  Papa told me once that during the Bristol riots--
+I declare, there's the Doctor looking on!  I wonder how he _can_."
+
+And the poor lady hid her face in her hands.
+
+By half past twelve all was over, and "The Bower" stripped of every
+article of furniture or consumption for which the money was owing.
+And yet, to the honour of Troy, no single theft or act of wanton
+destruction was perpetrated.  Save for the trampled flowers and marks
+of dusty boots upon the carpets, the house was left as it stood on
+the day when Mr. and Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys arrived.  It should be
+mentioned, perhaps, that Seth Udy's little boy was detected with his
+fist in a jar of moist sugar; but Mrs. Udy, it was remarked, was a
+Penpoodle woman.
+
+The sack was accomplished; and the crowd, heated but conscious of a
+duty done, was returning with the spoil, when towards the north a
+white glare leapt into the heaven and as suddenly vanished.  In a
+moment or so a dull roar followed, and the earth shuddered underfoot.
+
+Troy trembled.  It remembered its neglected Sabbath, and trembled
+again.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII.
+
+
+IN WHICH SEVERAL ATTEMPTS ARE MADE TO PUT A PERIOD TO THIS HISTORY.
+
+The congregation at St. Symphorian's on this memorable Sunday morning
+numbered nine persons.  Possibly this was the reason why, against all
+precedent, the Vicar's sermon terminated at "thirdly."
+
+Woman has been stated so often, and by such capable observers, to be
+more inquisitive than man, that I will content myself with
+establishing an exception.  Of these nine persons, five were women,
+and the remainder held the salaried posts of organist, organ-blower,
+pew-opener, and parish-clerk.  Of the women, one was Tamsin Dearlove.
+It is noteworthy that Caleb spent his morning at "The Bower."
+
+Service was over, and Tamsin was rowing homewards.  She was alone;
+for Troy was not the Dearloves' parish, and the Twins attended their
+own church--being, indeed, churchwardens.  As she pulled quietly
+upwards, a shade of thought rested on her pretty face.  I do not know
+of what she was thinking; and may add that if I did, I should not
+tell you.  I would as lief rob a church.
+
+She had passed the jetties, and was pulling her left paddle to turn
+the corner off Kit's House, when a flash crossed the heaven from
+behind her, and in an instant followed that rending explosion which
+(at different distances) has been twice presented to the reader, and
+with pardonable pride; for the story of Troy has now a catastrophe as
+well as episodes, and is vindicated as a theme.
+
+As soon as the throbbing of the atmosphere and the buzzing in her
+ears began to die away, two swift thoughts crossed her brain.
+Oddly enough, the first was for the safety of Kit's House.
+She glanced over her shoulder.  A mere film of smoke hung over the
+creek, and to the right of this she saw the house standing, seemingly
+unharmed.  Then came the second thought--
+
+If the explosion came from the creek, where the light smoke hung,
+there would be a wave.
+
+She half turned on the thwart and looked intently.
+
+Yes.  It was curling towards her, widening from the creek's mouth,
+and arching with a hateful crest.  On it came, a dark and glossy
+wall; and she knew that if it broke or caught her boat in the least
+aslant, she must be either swamped or overset.
+
+With a sound that was half a sob and half a prayer she grasped her
+paddles and, still looking over her shoulder, gently moved the boat's
+nose to face it.
+
+A moment, and it rose above her, hissing death; another, and the boat
+was caught high in air, tottered on the summit, and then with a
+shiver shot swiftly down into the trough beyond--safe.
+
+A second wave followed, and a third, but with less peril.  She was
+still tossed, but as she saw that mass of water hurled upon the
+shore, and sweeping angrily but with broken force towards the
+harbour, she knew that she could thank Heaven for her escape.
+
+She pulled towards the creek.  Already the air was clear; but as she
+glanced again her eye missed something familiar.  And then it struck
+her that the old schooner had gone.  At that instant, as if in
+confirmation, a shattered board bumped against the boat's side.
+She looked, and noticed that far and near the water was strewn with
+such fragments.
+
+She was pausing for a second to consider, when she caught sight of a
+black object lying on the mud beside the shore, and with a short cry
+fell to rowing with all her strength.  She guided the boat as nearly
+up to it as the mud allowed, and then, catching up her skirts, jumped
+into the ooze and waded.
+
+It was Mr. Fogo; but whether dead or alive she could not say.
+Down on the mud she knelt, and, turning him gently over, looked
+into his face.  It was streaked with slime, and powdered with a
+yellowish flake, as of sand.  His locks were singed most pitifully.
+She started up, took him by the shoulders, and tried to drag him up
+to the firmer shingle.
+
+Mr. Fogo opened his eyes and shut them again, feebly.
+
+"Not dead!  Oh! thank Heaven you are not dead."
+
+With a sob she dropped again beside him, and brushed the flaked
+powder from his eye-lashes.
+
+He opened his eyes again.
+
+"Would you mind speaking up? I--I think I am a little deaf."
+
+"I thought you were dead," she cried, in a louder tone.
+
+"No-o, I am not dead.  Oh! no; decidedly I am not dead.  It--it was
+the Tea, I fancy."
+
+He added this apologetically, much as some gentlemen are wont to
+plead "the salmon."
+
+Apparently believing the explanation sufficient, he shut his eyes
+again, and seemed inclined to go to sleep.
+
+"The Tea?" questioned Tamsin, chafing his hands.
+
+"Or the Honey, perhaps--or the Putty," he answered drowsily.
+Then, opening his eyes and sitting up with a start, "Upon my soul, I
+don't know which.  It _called_ itself Tea, but I'm--bound--to--
+admit--"
+
+He was nodding again.  Utterly perplexed, Tamsin leant back and
+regarded him.
+
+"Can you walk, if you lean on my arm?"
+
+"Walk?  Oh! yes, I can walk.  Why not?"
+
+But it seemed that he was mistaken; for, in attempting to start, he
+groped about for a bit and then sat down suddenly.  Tamsin helped him
+to his feet.
+
+The reader has long ago guessed the cause of the catastrophe.  It was
+dynamite--conspirators' dynamite, and therefore ill-prepared.
+Now dynamite, when it explodes, acts, we are told, with "local
+partiality"; and of this term we may remark--
+
+     That it is given as an explanation by men of science,
+     Without being a "scientific" explanation;
+     But is, in fact, a "metaphysical" explanation,
+     And therefore no explanation at all of
+     The astonishing fact that dynamite hits one thing and does not
+     hit another.
+
+In the case of Mr. Fogo, his top-hat had vanished, but the brim still
+clung to his head, like a halo.  His spectacles and one boot had
+gone; the other boot was unlaced.  His coat was split up the back,
+and his collar had broken away, but his tie was barely disarranged.
+He has since declared that he left the schooner with two-and-sixpence
+in his trowser pocket, and came ashore with two-and-a-penny; but this
+was in an account delivered to a scientific audience, and is thought
+to have been a joke.
+
+From head to foot he was besmeared with black mud; for the rotten
+stern must have parted and fallen with the first touch of the
+explosion, so that the wave caught him as he toppled out, and flung
+him at once upon the shallows.  But Tamsin's Sunday frock was already
+ruined.  She made him rest his hand on her shoulder, and so, with one
+arm thrown round him for steadiness, led him down the beach, and with
+infinite difficulty got him across the mud and into the boat.
+
+
+[Illustration: With infinite difficulty got him across the mud.]
+
+
+She managed to push off at last, and pulled rapidly across for Kit's
+House.  Hitherto Mr. Fogo's condition had slightly resembled a
+drunken stupor; but now he shivered violently and looked about him.
+
+"Where am I?"
+
+"Safe and sound, I hope."
+
+He passed his hand over his eyes and shivered again.
+
+"I remember.  Something--blew up, did it not?  The canister, I
+think."
+
+She nodded encouragingly.
+
+"Where did you come from?" he asked abruptly.
+
+"From church."
+
+"Oh! from church.  Do you know, I'm very glad to see you--I am,
+indeed, I hope you'll come often, now that--Excuse me," he broke off
+with a weak smile, "but I fancy I'm talking nonsense."
+
+She nodded again.
+
+"I am aching all over," he added with a shiver.
+
+She pulled the boat up to the little quay.  "Now I wonder where
+Caleb is," she said to herself, as she stood up and looked around;
+"but he's like most men, always in the way or out of the way."
+She turned suddenly with a white face.  "Caleb was not with you?"
+
+To her hearty relief Mr. Fogo understood the question and shook his
+head.  She helped him ashore.  Though he walked with pain, he made an
+obvious effort to lighten his weight on her shoulder; and this
+returning bashfulness was a good sign, she thought.  They passed
+slowly up the steps; at the top he acknowledged her help with a
+grateful look, but neither spoke until he was seated in a chair by
+the kitchen fireplace.
+
+Then she withdrew her attention for a moment to glance round upon the
+clumsy appliances and masculine untidiness of the place.  She noticed
+that fully half the window-panes had been shattered by the explosion;
+but otherwise the house had barely suffered.
+
+"Is there any brandy or whiskey in the house?"
+
+He shook his head.
+
+"If you want to drink--" he began, but stopped hastily and added, "I
+beg your pardon."
+
+"Is there any tea?"
+
+He pointed to the cupboard, but dropped his arm with a groan.
+She was at his side in a moment.
+
+"Now, listen to me.  You are not to stir or speak, but only to nod or
+shake your head when I ask a question.  Do you understand?"
+
+He nodded.
+
+"That's right."
+
+She stepped to the cupboard, produced the tea and a box of matches;
+then, stooping down, rekindled the fire with the help of some sticks
+which she found in the oven, and put the kettle on the flame.
+This done, she sought and found the tea-things.
+
+"Milk?" she asked.
+
+He nodded towards a blue jug on the mantel-shelf.
+
+"Milk on the mantel-shelf!  That's like a man."
+
+But at this point the kettle began to boil.  She filled the tea-pot,
+and replaced the kettle on the hob.  As she turned, she was aware of
+a clearer look in Mr. Fogo's eyes.  She smiled and nodded.
+
+"You are better."
+
+"Much.  I can remember it all, after a fashion.  Did I talk
+nonsense?"
+
+"A little."  She smiled again.
+
+His eyes followed her as she moved about the kitchen.  Presently he
+said--
+
+"You are very good to me."
+
+"I think I am."
+
+"Tamsin--"
+
+She turned suddenly to the table, and caught up the teapot.
+
+"Do you know," she asked, "that tea is worthless if it stands for
+more than five minutes?"
+
+She filled a cup, and gave it to him with a hand that trembled
+slightly.  He sipped, and scalded his lip.
+
+"Tamsin--"
+
+"My name is Dearlove," she said shortly, "and you are spilling the
+tea."
+
+There was silence for a minute or so.  Mr. Fogo stirred his tea
+abstractedly.  Tamsin, whose shoes were soaked, put one foot upon the
+fender, and bent her gaze upon the fire.
+
+"I would give something," observed Mr. Fogo suddenly, in desperate
+reverie, "to know how other people manage it.  It was moonlight when
+I proposed to Geraldine.  I began by squeezing her hand, if I
+remem--"
+
+He looked up, and found her regarding him with eyes ablaze.
+
+But luckily at this moment the door opened, and Caleb appeared.
+He was evidently much agitated; but at sight of Tamsin and the woeful
+figure in the armchair, he halted on the threshold and stared dumbly.
+
+"I think," said Tamsin, "you had better put your master to bed."
+
+"Mussy 'pon us, what's been doin'?"
+
+Briefly she told as much as she knew.  With each successive sentence
+Caleb's mouth and eyes opened wider.
+
+"And now," she ended, "as Peter and Paul have been waiting for their
+dinner this half-hour, I will be going.  Don't trouble to come with
+me; but attend to your master.  Good-morning, sir."
+
+She dropped him a low curtsey and was gone.  He started up.
+
+"Where be goin', sir?  Sit down; you'm not fit to stir."
+
+But Mr. Fogo had passed him, and was out of the room in a moment.
+In spite of the pain that racked every limb, he overtook Tamsin in
+the porch.
+
+"What are you doing?" she cried.  "Go back to bed."
+
+As she faced him, he could see that her eyes were full of angry
+tears.  The sight checked him.
+
+"It's--it's of no consequence," he stammered, "only I was going to
+ask you to be my wife."
+
+For answer she turned on her heel, and walked resolutely down the
+steps.
+
+Mr. Fogo stood and watched her until she disappeared, and then
+crawled painfully back into the house.
+
+
+"An' now, sir," said Caleb, as he led his master to bed, "warnin' et
+es.  This day month, I goes, unless--"
+
+"Unless what, Caleb?"
+
+"Well, sir, I reckons there be on'y wan way out o't, as the cat said
+by the sausage-machine, an' that es--to marry Tamsin Dearlove."
+
+"My dear Caleb," groaned Mr. Fogo, "I only wish I could!  But I will
+try again to-morrow."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII.
+
+
+HOW ONE LOVER TOOK LEAVE OF HIS WITS, AND TWO CAME TO THEIR SENSES.
+
+But Mr. Fogo was not to try again on the morrow.
+
+For Caleb, stealing up in the grey dawn to assure himself that his
+master was comfortably asleep, found him tossing in a high fever, and
+rowed down to Troy for dear life and the Doctor.  Returning, he found
+that the fever had become delirium.  Mr. Fogo, indeed, was sitting up
+in bed, and rattling off proposals of marriage at the rate of some
+six a minute, without break or pause.  He was very red and earnest,
+rolled his eyes most strangely, and wandered in his address from
+Tamsin to Geraldine, and back again with a vehemence that gravelled
+all logic.
+
+"Lord ha' mussy!" cried Caleb at last.  "Do 'ee hush, that's a dear.
+'Tes sinful--all these gallons o' true affecshun a-runnin' to waste.
+You'm too lovin' by half, as Sam said when hes wife got hugged by a
+bear.  What do 'ee think, sir?"
+
+The last sentence was addressed to the little Doctor, who, after
+staring at the patient for some minutes without noticeable result,
+nodded his head, announced that the fever must run its course, and
+promised to send a capable nurse up to Kit's House without delay.
+
+"Beggin' your pard'n, Doctor," interposed Caleb with firmness, "but
+I've a-got my orders."
+
+"Eh?"
+
+"I've a-got my orders.  Plaise God, an' wi' plenty o' doctor's
+trade, [1] us'll pull 'un round: but nobody nusses maaster 'ceptin'
+you an' me--leastways, no womankind."
+
+"This is nonsensical."
+
+"Nonsensical, do 'ee say? Look 'ee here, Doctor; do 'ee think I'd
+trust a woman up here wi' maaster a-makin' offers o' marriage sixteen
+to the dozen?  Why, bless 'ee, sir, her'd be down an' ha' the banns
+called afore night, an' maaster not fit to shake hes head, much less
+say as the Prayer Books orders--'I renounce mun all.'  That's a
+woman, Doctor, an' ef any o' the genteel sex sets foot on Kit's beach
+I'll--I'll _stone_ her."
+
+The Doctor gave way in the end and withdrew, promising another visit
+before evening.  When he returned, however, at five in the afternoon,
+he found, with some wonder, a woman quietly installed in the
+sick-room.  It happened thus:--
+
+Barely an hour after the Doctor's departure, Caleb, sitting at his
+master's bedside, heard footsteps on the gravel walk, and looked out
+of window.
+
+"Hist!" he called softly; and Peter Dearlove, followed by Paul,
+stepped round the angle of the house into sight.  The Twins
+bore a look of the gravest perplexity and a large market basket.
+
+"Hulloa!" said Caleb, "what's up?"
+
+The pair looked at each other.  At length Peter began with a serious
+face and unwonted formality of tone--
+
+"Es Mr. Fogo wi'in?"
+
+"Why, iss," Caleb allowed, "he's inside."
+
+"We was a-wishin' to request o' the pleasure"--here Peter looked at
+Paul, who nodded--"the pleasure o' an interval o' five minnits."
+
+"Interview," corrected Paul.
+
+"I misdoubts," answered his brother, "that you are wrong, Paul.
+I remember the expresshun 'pon the programme o' a Sleight o' Hand
+Entertainment, an' there et said 'Interval'--'An Interval o' Five
+Minnits.'"
+
+"Ef that's so," broke in Caleb from above with fine irony, "p'raps
+you wudn' mind handin' up your visitin' cards an' doin' the thing
+proper.  At present maaster's busy."
+
+"Busy?"
+
+"Iss.  A-makin' proposals o' marriage--which es a serious thing, an'
+not to be interrupted."
+
+The Twins set down the basket and stared at each other.  Paul was the
+first to recover.
+
+"Ef 'tes fully allowable to put the question, Peter an' me wud like
+to knaw the young leddy's name.  'Tes makin' bould to ax, but there's
+a reason."
+
+"Well," said Caleb, disappearing for a moment and then poking his
+head forth again, "at the present moment 'tes a party answerin' to
+the name o' Geraldin'.  A minnit agone 'twas--But maybe you'd
+better step up an' see for yoursel'."
+
+"What!"
+
+"Step up an' see."
+
+"Now, Peter," said the Twin, turning from Caleb to contemplate his
+brother, "puttin' the case (an' far be et from me to say et cudn' be)
+as you was payin' your addresses to a young leddy answerin' to the
+name o' Geraldin' (which she wudn' be call'd that, anyway), an'
+puttin' the case as you was a-makin' offers o' marriage, an' a pair
+o' twin-brothers (same as you an' me might be) walked up to the front
+door an' plumped in afore you'd well finished talkin' o' the
+weather-prospec's (bein' a slow man, though a sure)--now, what I
+wants to knaw es, wud 'ee like et yoursel'?"
+
+"No, I shudn'."
+
+"Well, I reckon'd not.  An' that bein' so, Go's the word."
+
+"Afore Peter talks 'bout gettin' a wife," broke in Caleb, "he'd
+better read 'bout Peter's wife's mother.  She was sick wi' a fever,
+I've heerd, an' so's maaster.  Ef you don't believe, walk up an' see;
+'cos 'tain't good for a sick man to ha' all this palaverin' outside
+hes windey."
+
+The Twins stared, whispered together, took off their boots, and
+softly entered the house.  At the door of the sick-room Caleb met
+them.
+
+"Brain fever," he whispered, "which es on'y catchin' for them as has
+brains to catch et wi'."
+
+The trio stood together at the foot of the bed on which Mr. Fogo
+tossed and chattered.  Peter and Paul looked from the sick man to
+their hats, and back again in silence.  At length the elder Twin
+spoke--
+
+"I' the matter o' behavin' rum, some folks does it wi' cause an'
+others not so.  But I reckons ef you allows as there's likely a
+cause, you'm 'pon the safe side--'speshully wi' Mr. Fogo.  Wherefore,
+Caleb, what's the meanin' o' this here?"
+
+"Tamsin!"
+
+The answer came so pat from the sick man's lips that Peter fairly
+jumped.  Caleb looked up with finger on lip and a curious smile on
+his weather-tanned face.
+
+"Don't leave me! Look! There are devils around me--cold white
+devils--devils with blank faces--no features, only flesh.
+Look!  Sunday, Monday, Tuesday--every day with a devil, every day in
+the year--look, look!"
+
+"Pore soul!" whispered Paul; "an' 'tes Leap Year, too, which makes
+wan extry."
+
+"Don't leave me, Tamsin--don't leave me!"
+
+The sick man's voice rose to a scream.  Caleb bent forward and tried
+to soothe him.  The mahogany faces of the Twins were blanched.
+They whispered apart--
+
+"You was right, Peter."
+
+"Aye, more's the pity.  I thought the lass misliked 'un--the bigger
+fool I.  'Twas on'y yestiddy I guessed more was troublin' her than
+her soiled gown, an' tax'd her wi' et.  We used to pride oursel' on
+knawin' her wants afore her spoke--an' now--"
+
+Peter weakly concluded with a sigh.
+
+"Bring Tamsin down an' help me here," said Caleb, from across the
+room.
+
+The pair started.
+
+"That es," he went on, "ef she'll come.  You heerd maaster?  Well, he
+said purty much the same to her yestiddy; so her won't be frightened.
+Leastways, go an' say you'm comin' yoursel' to help nuss; 'cos ef you
+won't I'll nuss 'un alone, an' ef that's the case, you'm a queer pair
+o' Christians, as the Devil said to the two black pigs."
+
+"Fact es," hesitated Peter, "I'd a-larnt so much las' evenin' from
+Tamsin, though she were main loth to tell; an' Paul agreed as we'd
+call this mornin' an' tell Mr. Fogo as 'twarn't right for 'n to set
+hes thoughts 'pon Tamsin, who isn' a leddy, nor to put notions in her
+head as'll gi'e her pain hereafter.  An' that's all 'bout et; an' us
+brought a whack o' vegetable produce 'long wi' us, jes' to show there
+was no ill-feelin's.  But as et turns out, neither argyment nor
+vegetables bein' acceptable to a party that's sick wi' a fever, I be
+clane floored for what to do."
+
+"Well, now, I've a-told 'ee.  An' don't let the grass grow 'neath
+your feet, 'cos 'twill grow fast enough over your heads some day."
+
+The Twins, unable to cope with Caleb's determination, stole
+noiselessly out.  And thus it was that when, late in the afternoon,
+the little Doctor returned, he found Peter and Paul, in large blue
+aprons, busily helpless downstairs, and Tamsin, bright-eyed and warm
+of cheek, seated by the sick man's bedside.
+
+
+On the following morning, which the reader, should he care to
+calculate, will find to be Tuesday, Admiral Buzza dropped his
+newspaper with a start, and glared across the breakfast-table.
+
+"What is it, my love?" inquired his wife.  "Nothing wrong, I hope?"
+
+"Wrong? Oh! no," replied the Admiral grimly, "nothing--wrong.
+Oblige me by listening to this, madam."  He took up the paper and
+read aloud:
+
+                       "ANOTHER DYNAMITE PLOT.
+            A WHOLE TOWN DECEIVED--EXTRAORDINARY PROCEEDINGS.
+                  ESCAPE OF THE SUSPECTED PERSONS.
+                THE DYNAMITE FIENDS STILL AT LARGE.
+
+"The existence of another of these atrocious conspiracies aimed at
+the security of our public buildings and the safety of peaceful
+citizens, has been brought to light by certain recent occurrences at
+the romantic little seaport town of Troy.  We have reason to believe
+that the suspicions of the police have been for some time aroused;
+and it is to their unaccountable dilatoriness we owe it that the
+conspirators have for the time made good their escape and still
+continue to menace our lives and property.  It appears that some
+months back a couple, giving the names of the Honourable Mr. and Mrs.
+Goodwyn-Sandys--"
+
+["Really, Samuel, if you cannot eat an ordinary egg without
+clattering the spoon in that unseemly manner, I must ask you to
+suspend your meal until I have finished."]
+
+"appeared at Troy as tenants of one of the most fashionable villa
+residences in that town.  The _elite_ [ahem] of the neighbourhood,
+too easily cajoled [h'm], and little suspecting their villainous
+designs, received the newcomers with open arms and a lamentable lack
+of inquisitiveness."
+
+"Well, really," put in Mrs. Buzza, "I don't know what they call
+'inquisitiveness'; if a brass telescope--Why, Sam, dear, how pale you
+are!"
+
+"Through the gross carelessness, we can hardly bring ourselves to say
+the connivance, of the Custom House officials, they were allowed to
+land with impunity a considerable quantity of dynamite, with which on
+Saturday night they decamped.  Their disappearance remained
+unsuspected up to a late hour on Sunday morning, when 'The Bower' was
+visited, and (to borrow the words of the great master of prose)
+_non sunt inventi_.  The neatness with which the escape was executed
+points to the disquieting conclusion that they did not want for
+assistance."
+
+"I'll ask you to excuse me," said Sam, rising abruptly and leaving
+the room.  A sick terror possessed his heart; visions of the dock and
+the felon's cell followed him as he picked up his hat and crept into
+the street.  Outside, the morning was serene, with the promise of a
+broiling noon; but as far as Sam was concerned, Egyptian darkness
+would have been better.  He shivered: at the corner of the street he
+met the local policeman and winced.
+
+But far, far worse was it with Mr. Moggridge, to whose lodgings his
+steps were bending.  The Poet, as Sam entered, was seated as nearly
+as possible on the small of his back before the breakfast table.
+If mental anguish can be expressed by unkempt hair and a disordered
+cravat, that of Mr. Moggridge was extreme; and the untasted bloater,
+pushed aside and half concealed by the newspaper, was full of lurid
+significance.
+
+Sam paused at the door.  The two friends had barely spoken for more
+than a month.  Three days ago they had all but fought.  All this,
+however, was forgotten now.
+
+"Is that you, Sam?  Come in."
+
+Then, having displayed the olive-branch, the Poet waved the newspaper
+feebly, and groaned.
+
+"Moggridge, old man--"
+
+"Sam!"
+
+"What a pair of asses we have been!
+
+"The Poet moaned, and pointed to the paper.
+
+"I know," nodded Sam; "is it true, d'ye think?"
+
+"My heart forebodes," said Mr. Moggridge, collapsing still further--
+"my heart forebodes 'tis true, 'tis true; then deck my shroud about
+with rue, and lay me 'neath the dismal--"
+
+"Pooh!" broke in Sam; "stuff and nonsense, man!  It's bad for you, I
+know, but after all _I'm_ the sufferer."
+
+The Collector of Customs turned a glassy stare upon him.
+
+"_I_ carried the bag up to Five Lanes; _I_ put the infernal stuff
+into her very hands; _I_--"
+
+"_You?_"
+
+Sam nodded desperately.  "She asked me to elope with her--to meet her
+at Five Lanes."
+
+Mr. Moggridge staggered up to his feet, and fumbled in his waistcoat
+pocket.
+
+"You are mad!" he gasped.  "She asked _me_ to elope with her--_me_ to
+meet her at the top of Troy Hill.  Look here!" He held out a crumpled
+letter.  Sam took it, glanced at it, produced an exactly similar
+note, and handed it to his friend.
+
+They read each the other's letter sentence by sentence, and in
+doleful antiphon.  At the conclusion they looked up, and met each
+other's gaze; whereat Mr. Moggridge smote his brow and cried--
+
+"False, false!"
+
+While Sam pushed his hands deep into his trouser-pockets and emitted
+a long breath, as though, his cup being full, he must needs blow off
+the froth.
+
+"Do you mean to say," he asked, after a pause, "that you helped her
+to land the stuff?"
+
+"I thought it was Tea."
+
+"And you never examined it?"
+
+"She told me it was Tea."
+
+"Moggridge, you have been given away, as the Yankees put it.  I have
+been sold, which is bad; but you have been 'given away,' which is
+worse."
+
+"You were sold for 'love,' which is pretty much the same, I take it,
+as being given away," objected the Poet testily.
+
+"Not at all the same, Moggridge, as being given away--with half a
+pound of Tea."
+
+
+   Footnote, Chapter XXIII
+   [1] Medicine.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV.
+
+
+OF THE BEST HELLEBORE; AND AN EXPERIMENT IN THE ENTERTAINMENT OF
+TWINS.
+
+For three days Mr. Fogo continued to propose.  On the evening of the
+third day the little Doctor shook his head.  After this, for about a
+week, Mr. Fogo proposed and the Doctor shook his head at intervals.
+Finally, and in the middle of a sentence, the patient fell into a
+deep slumber.
+
+When he awoke, it was to the conviction that he, Mr. Fogo, being a
+bolster, had been robbed of his rightful stuffing by some person or
+persons unknown.  He had lain for some time pondering this situation
+with a growing resentment, when he was aware of some one sitting
+between him and the sunshine.
+
+"Who are you?" he asked.
+
+"I am Tamsin Dearlove."
+
+The remark made by Diogenes under somewhat like circumstances would
+have been ungallant.  In the process of searching for a better the
+sick man fell asleep again.
+
+What happened on his next return to consciousness shall be given in
+his own words.  He told me the story last autumn:--
+
+"You see," he explained shyly, "I have not, my dear young friend,
+that ingenuity of phrase which I so admire in you" (I protest I have
+not the heart to suppress this tribute), "but seeing that, in such a
+case, experience counts for something--and naturally, at your age,
+you have yet to learn what it is to propose to a woman--I think I had
+better tell you exactly what happened, the more so as it is a matter
+which, if, as you assure me, necessary to your chronicle, I desire to
+be related with accuracy.  I am not, you understand, in the least
+reflecting on your love of truth, but, after all, I _did_, as the
+obnoxious phrase has it, 'propose' to Tamsin, whereas you--ahem--did
+_not_."
+
+I am convinced my friend meant to say "would not have had the
+infernal impudence," but softened the expression, being habitually
+careful of the feelings of others.
+
+"When I awoke again," he went on, "she was seated in the window,
+knitting.  I lay for a long while watching her--indeed, this is my
+first impression--before I made any sign.  The sunshine--it was
+morning--fell on her head as she bent over her needles, and
+emphasised that peculiar bloom of gold which (you may have noticed)
+her brown locks possess.  Her lashes, too, as they drooped upon a
+cheek pale (as I could perceive) beyond its wont, had a glimmer of
+the same golden tint.  Altogether I thought her more beautiful than I
+ever imagined; and to this day," he added in an outburst of
+confidence, "I frequently decoy her to a seat in the sunlight, that I
+may taste a renewal of the sensations I enjoyed that morning.
+Some day, perhaps, you will be better able to sympathise with this
+caprice.
+
+"I had been lying thus for some time, luxuriously drinking in her
+loveliness, when her eyes lifted and met mine.  And then--well, I can
+hardly tell you what happened then, except that I do not believe a
+word was spoken on either side.  I suppose our eyes had told enough.
+Anyhow, the next thing I remember is that my dear girl's head was on
+my breast, and one arm flung across the pillow that supported my
+head.  I have a dim recollection, too, of trying to smooth her hair,
+and finding my strength too feeble even for that.  That is all, I
+think; except that we were ludicrously happy, of course--Tamsin
+smiling with moist eyes, while I lay still and let the joy of it
+trickle in my veins.  I am extremely obliged to you, my dear young
+friend, for not laughing outright at this confession.  It encourages
+me to add, for exactness, that Tamsin kept putting her hand up to the
+back of her head.  She has since explained that she felt sure her
+'back-hair' was coming down.  Women are curious creatures.
+
+"Let me resume.  In the midst of what used to be called a 'love
+passage,' the door opened, and in walked Peter Dearlove with a basin
+of beef-tea.  So quietly did he enter, that the first announcement of
+his presence was a terrific sound which my experience can compare
+with nothing unless it be whooping-cough--the whooping-cough of a
+robust adult.
+
+"'This,' he remarked, setting down the tray and eyeing Tamsin
+severely, 'ain't nussin' properly so called.'
+
+"I do not think we made any answer to this.
+
+"'Ef a name es to be found for 't, 'tain't so much 'nussin'' as
+'goin's on.''
+
+"'Your sister has promised to be my wife,' I ventured.
+
+"'Beggin' your pard'n, sir, but the Catechism has summat to say to
+that.'
+
+"'The Catechism?'
+
+"'Iss, sir--'that stashun o' life.'  An' not a word 'bout raisin' et,
+even by th' use o' globes--which some considers unekalled.'
+
+"I put out my hand to cover Tamsin's, and looked up into her face
+before I answered him with some heat--
+
+"'I won't affect to misunderstand you.  You mean that I am marrying
+beneath me?'
+
+"He hesitated.
+
+"'There's two meanin's to 'beneath''
+
+"'Ah!' I cried, 'I am glad you see that.'
+
+"He looked at me slowly and continued--
+
+"'Second p'int.  Not so long agone you was talkin' of a Geraldin."
+
+"I glanced at Tamsin again and comprehended.
+
+"'I have been talking--?'
+
+"She nodded.
+
+"'And you know it all--the whole story?'
+
+"She nodded again, with a world of healing pity in her eyes.
+Then, with a swift glance at her brother, she stooped and kissed me.
+
+"'Oh!' said Peter, very shortly; 'I'm thinkin' I'd best see Paul
+'bout this;' and with that he disappeared.
+
+"Whereupon," concluded Mr. Fogo, "I think I must have dropped asleep
+again, for I remember nothing after this--at least, nothing that is
+worth mention."
+
+
+It is quite true that Mr. Fogo dropped asleep.  He slept, moreover,
+for a considerable time, and awoke to find Caleb seated beside the
+bed.
+
+"Where is Tam--Miss Dearlove?" he asked.
+
+"There ain't no Dearlove, as I knaws by, called Tammis.  The males
+was chris'n'd Peter an' Paul, the female Thomasina: an' they'm gone."
+
+"Gone?"
+
+"Gone, an' left we like Hocken's duck, wi'out mate or fellow."
+
+"How long?"
+
+"Matter o' five hour'."
+
+There was a long silence.
+
+"Caleb!"
+
+"Aye, aye, sir."
+
+"How long do you think it will be before I can get about--be fit to
+go downstairs, I mean?"
+
+"Well, sir, I reckon et depends on yoursel'.  Try, an' 'twill come,
+as the Doctor said when Bill swallered 'arf-a-crown an' wanted to get
+et up agen by Lady-Day, rent bein' doo."
+
+"Do you think a week would do it?"
+
+"Better say a fortni't, sir."
+
+"What day is it to-day?"
+
+"Thursday."
+
+"Have I been ill for two days?"
+
+"For a fortni't an' two days."
+
+"Bless my soul!"
+
+"Amen, sir."
+
+"Caleb, would you mind writing a letter for me?"
+
+Caleb had no objection; and the composition that followed may be
+given in full, for works of divided authorship have always possessed
+an interest of their own from the days of Homer, Homer and Homer
+downwards:--
+
+    "Hond Twins,--"
+
+    "Mr. Fogo's complements to the pare of You not forgetting Miss
+     Thomasina and shall be glad if you will all Dine with me at
+     7 p.m. in the evening precisely on This day (Wensdy) fortunite.
+     You will be glad to heer that I am recuvering fast thanks to
+     your care and kindness which Is his own words and Gospel truth
+     and so No more at present from yours to command"
+
+                             "P. Fogo, Esq."
+
+                                "per C. Trotter."
+
+    "Knowing whats up with the kitchin range you wont look for much
+     of A dinner."
+
+The answer was brought up by Paul Dearlove early, next morning.
+It ran:--
+
+    "Respectd Sir,--"
+
+    "This is thanking you for your kind and welcome letter just recd,
+     and shall be proud to accept of the invitation in the spirit in
+     which it is given you must not mind the kitchin range please as
+     between them that knows all about it having difficulties at
+     times with the beef tea which trusting you will overlook we
+     remain"
+
+                              "Your obedt servts"
+
+                     (signed)  "Peter Dearlove."
+
+                                "Paul Dearlove."
+
+    "Thomasina has gone into Troy or would have signed too."
+
+To a certain extent this was satisfactory; and Mr. Fogo endeavoured
+to possess his soul in patience, and recover with all speed.  It was
+weary work at first, but as the sick man really began to mend he
+found much interest in discussing with Caleb the preparations for the
+feast.
+
+"We must not be too ambitious, Caleb.  Let the fare be simple--
+'_Persicos odi, puer, apparatus_'--as long as it is well cooked and
+neatly served."
+
+"I dunno what you means by 'pure apparatus,'" answered Caleb.
+"There's a flaw in the range, as you knaw; but 'tes so clane as
+scrubbin' 'll make et."
+
+And, indeed, when the evening arrived with the mellow twilight of
+July, and the Twins with a double knock, the arrangement of the
+table, as well as the smell of cooking which pervaded the front hall,
+did Caleb all credit.  The dining-room was bare alike of carpet and
+pictures, but the floor had been scoured until the boards glistened
+whitely; and two red ensigns, borrowed by Caleb from the British
+mercantile marine, served to hide certain defects in the wallpaper.
+
+Here Mr. Fogo sat awaiting his guests; for the preparation of the
+drawing-room would have overtaxed Caleb's resources.
+
+"Miss Thomasina Dearlove, and Messrs. Peter and Paul ditto!"
+
+Mr. Fogo arose with a flush on his wasted cheek, held Tamsin's hand
+for a moment, and then, bending, kissed it with grave courtesy.
+She had removed her hat and cloak in the passage, and now stood
+before him in a plain white frock--short-waisted, and of antique
+make, perhaps, but little the worse for that.  She wore no ornament
+but a red rose on her bosom; and if, as I do not believe, a shade of
+apprehension had troubled Mr. Fogo, it would have taken flight as she
+stood before him, challenging his eyes.
+
+But the Twins!
+
+Like the Austrian army, they were "awfully arrayed."  So stiff and
+shiny indeed was their apparel, and such mysterious sounds did the
+slightest movement draw from their linen, that the beholder grew
+presently as uneasy as the wearer.  Each wore a high stock and a
+collar that cut the ears.  The neck-cloth of Peter was crimson; of
+Paul, vivid amber.  The waistcoats of both bore floral devices in
+primary colours, and the hands of both were encased in gloves of
+white cotton.
+
+Mr. Fogo took heart of grace and bade them welcome.
+
+"'Tes a warm evenin'," ventured Paul, rubbing a forefinger round the
+inside of his collar.
+
+"Uncommon," responded Peter, addressing his brother.
+
+Whereupon, as if by preconcerted signal, they faced about and made
+for the two most distant chairs, on the edges of which they took an
+uneasy rest.  Peter had brought his hat into the room, and now, after
+gazing at it reproachfully for some moments, began to stow it away
+beneath him, doing violence to its brim with the air of one who does
+not count the cost.  He was relieved by Caleb, who bore it off with
+the pleasant remark--
+
+"Now, then, remember what the old leddy said to make her guests aisy,
+'I'm at home, an' I wish you all were.'"
+
+"Silence, Caleb!" said his master.  "I--I think, as dinner is ready,
+we may as well be seated at once.  Will you take the head of the
+table?" he asked, turning to Tamsin.
+
+She blushed faintly and moved to her place.  The Twins leapt up,
+performed a forced march, and took the table in flank from opposite
+quarters.  Mr. Fogo looked around.
+
+"If one of you would say Grace--"
+
+"Tamsin says it at home.  I taught her mysel'," said Peter.
+"Now, then, little maid, 'For what we'm about--'"
+
+She spoke the simple Grace and the company sat down--with the
+exception of Paul.
+
+Now, Paul's position at table faced the fireplace, and as he raised
+his head after Grace a large text in red and blue upon the
+mantelshelf caught his eye, and held him spell-bound.
+
+"'Paice on Earth an' Goodwill to-ward Men!'" he read.  "Excuse me,
+sir, but nothin' more appropriate to the occashun can I imagine.
+Et does 'ee credit--ef I may say so."
+
+He dropped into his seat, and taking off his gloves laid them beside
+his glasses.  Peter, more ceremonious, retained his throughout the
+meal.
+
+"I am afraid," explained their host, "that the credit belongs to
+Caleb, who insisted upon placing the text there; and as he had
+obtained it with considerable trouble from the Vicar (it was used, I
+believe, to decorate St. Symphorian's last Christmas), I had not the
+heart to deny him.  But for what are we waiting?"
+
+He was answered by the appearance of Caleb, who marched up to Tamsin
+with a woeful face, and announced in a loud whisper that "Suthin' was
+up wi' the soup."
+
+"I think," said she, rising, "if you will let me help--"
+
+"Sutt'nly," assented Peter in a loud tone.  "To be sure--that es,
+beggin' your pard'n, sir," he added apologetically.
+
+"It is very good of you," said Mr. Fogo.
+
+"I should like to help," she explained, and followed Caleb to the
+kitchen.
+
+Somehow, with her absence, an oppressive silence fell on the three
+men.  Peter coughed at intervals, and once even began a sentence, but
+stopped halfway.  Mr. Fogo did not heed him, but had fallen to
+drumming softly with his spoon upon the table.  A full five minutes
+passed thus, and then he started to his feet.
+
+"Must you really be going?"
+
+"Eh?"
+
+"It is early yet; but I suppose you have some distance to go?"
+
+"What?"
+
+"Let me, at least, help you on with your coats."
+
+They stared blankly at him.  There was a faraway look in his eyes,
+but his speech was quiet and distinct enough.  Like lambs they
+obeyed, and marched out into the hall.
+
+"I am afraid I am too weak to offer much assistance--"
+
+"Don't 'ee menshun et."
+
+They resumed their coats, and groped for hats and sticks.  A deep and
+awful wonder possessed them both.
+
+"The night is fine," observed their host, as he opened the door:
+"you will have a pleasant journey home.  _Good_-night!"
+
+He shook them by the hand as they staggered out, shut the door upon
+them, and returned pensively to the dining-room.
+
+As the door closed behind them, the brothers looked into each other's
+eyes.  Paul gave a short gasp, and leant against a pillar of the
+verandah.
+
+"Peter!"
+
+"Paul!"
+
+"Wud 'ee mind pinchin' me i' the ca'f o' the leg, jes' to make sure?"
+
+"I was a-goin' to ax the same favour, Paul."
+
+"Well, churchwarden or no churchwarden, I reckon I _am_ damned!"
+
+"What I complains of in this 'ere fash'nubble life," said Peter
+slowly, "es this--'tes too various--by a sight, too various."
+
+"Arter eatin' next door to nuthin' all day, so's we mou'tn' be
+behindhand in tacklin' the vittles!"
+
+There was an interval of painful stupor.
+
+"Paul!"
+
+"Peter!"
+
+"I'm reckonin' up what my hunger's wuth at this moment.  I dunno as
+I'd take twenty pund for 't."
+
+Inside the house Mr. Fogo had sunk into an armchair, and was
+regarding the ceiling with thoughtful attention.  He was aroused by
+steps in the hall, and Tamsin re-entered the room, followed by Caleb
+with the soup-tureen.
+
+"Hulloa!  where's the Twins?"
+
+"Eh?"
+
+"Es this a round game, or a conjurin' trick?"
+
+"I beg your pardon?" Mr. Fogo turned a dull gaze upon him.  Caleb set
+down the tureen with a crash, and rushing up shook his master gently,
+but firmly, by the collar.
+
+"Where--be--they--Twins?"
+
+"Oh!  The Twins?  They have gone--gone some five minutes.  I saw them
+out.  It's all--Bless my soul, how extraordinary, to be sure!"
+
+Caleb did not wait for the end of the sentence, but darting out,
+discovered the brothers in the porch, and haled them back.
+
+"I beg your pardon most heartily," said Mr. Fogo, as they appeared;
+"the fact is--"
+
+"There's no call, sir.  I reckon us'll get the grip o't wi' time an'
+practice; on'y bein' new to the ropes, so to spake--"
+
+Mr. Fogo looked at Tamsin.  She broke into a merry laugh.
+
+It snapped the spell.  The Twins, who had been waiting on each other
+for a lead with the first spoonful of soup, set down their spoons and
+joined in, at first decorously, then with uproar.
+
+"Talk 'bout fun!" gasped Peter at length, with tears in his eyes,
+"Bill Stickles at the Market Ord'nary can't match et--an' he's
+reckoned a tip-topper for fun.  An' this es fash'n!  Well, I never
+did.  Ho, ho, ho!"
+
+From this moment the success of the dinner was assured.  All talked,
+and talked with freedom.  The brothers threw off their restraint, and
+were their natural and well-mannered selves.  It is true that Peter
+would pause now and again to slap his thigh and renew his mirth; it
+is true also that he continued to wear his white gloves throughout
+the meal.  But he pocketed them when Caleb removed the cloth, and the
+company fell into more easy postures.
+
+It was late that evening when the Twins consulted their watches and
+rose to go, and as yet nothing had been said on the subject nearest
+to Mr. Fogo's heart.  He motioned them back to their seats.
+
+"There is still one more question that I must ask you," he said,
+rising and stepping to Tamsin's side.  "You guess what it is?"
+
+"I mou't," admitted Peter slowly.
+
+"I ask you, then, if Tamsin has your leave to make me happy.
+Knowing what it costs you--"
+
+"No cost, sir, where our little maid's happiness es consarned.
+Tamsin knaws that, but 't 'as been the harder to talk wi' her as us
+shud ha' wished, an' that there's no denyin'.  Us knawed all along
+she'd be leavin' us some day, an' oft'n Paul an' me have a-made up
+each other's mind to 't.  I misdoubts, sir--I misdoubts sorely--
+seein' 'tes _you_ her heart es set to marry--meanin' no offence, sir.
+But as _'tes_ set--Tamsin, girl, we'll be goin', I reckon.
+I'm thinkin' I've a-parted wi' enough o' my heart's blud for wan
+night."
+
+He moved towards the door, but came back again to shake hands, with a
+word of self-reproach for his lack of courtesy.  Then, with a
+tenderness almost motherly on his mahogany face--
+
+"Be gentle wi' her," he said.  "She's quick to larn--an' takes cold
+aisy, which, ef seen to early, a little nitre will a'most al'ays
+pervent.  Come 'long, Tamsin."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV.
+
+
+WHICH ENDS THE STORY OF TROY.
+
+The wedding took place in less than two months after Mr. Fogo's
+dinner-party.  A longer interval would have proved, I believe, fatal
+to both Peter and Paul, who wore themselves thin over small
+anxieties, from the trousseau to the cake.
+
+Three days before the wedding, for instance, they rowed down to Kit's
+House and awoke Caleb at 4.30 a.m.  by throwing gravel against his
+window.
+
+"Oh, 'tes you," said Caleb, as he thrust open the lattice; "what's
+amiss now?"
+
+"We have been considerin' which of us two es to gi'e Tamsin away."
+
+"Toss up."
+
+"We _have_ tossed up--scores o' times."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"The results," said Peter gravely, "es versified."
+
+"What?"
+
+"Otherwise, various.  The results es various--inclinin' to Paul."
+
+"Well, let Paul do it."
+
+"Peter es oulder," objected Paul.
+
+"By dree minnits--which don't fairly count," put in Peter.
+
+"Peter," observed Caleb, "looks th' oulder--by full dree minnits."
+
+"Paul went to school afore me," said Peter, "by two days--along o'
+measles."
+
+"Look 'ere," decided Caleb, "let Paul gi'e her away, an' you, bein'
+the better spokesman, can propose th' health o' the bride an'
+bridegroom."
+
+This satisfied them, and so it was arranged at the wedding.  I am not
+going to describe the ceremony--at which I had the privilege of
+holding my friend's hat--beyond saying that woman, as is usual on
+these occasions, was a success, and man a dismal failure.  There was
+one exception.  When little Susie Clemow, who at Mr. Fogo's express
+desire was one of the bridesmaids, identified the bridegroom with the
+strange gentleman who had frightened her in the lane, and burst into
+loud screams in the middle of the service, I could not sufficiently
+admire the readiness with which Peter Dearlove produced a packet of
+brandy-balls from his tail-pocket to comfort her, or the prescience
+which led him to bring such confectionery to a wedding.
+
+At the breakfast, too, which, owing to the dimensions of the
+Dearloves' cottage, was perforce select, Peter again shone.
+In proposing the health of Mr. and Mrs. Fogo, he said--
+
+"On an occasion like the present et becomes us not to repine.
+These things es sent us for our good" (here he looked doubtfully at
+the cake), "an' wan man's meat es t'other's p'ison, which I hopes"
+(severely) "you knawed wi'out my tellin' 'ee; an' I shudn' wonder ef
+Paul an' me was to draw lots wan o' these fine days as to which o' us
+shud take the pledge--I means, the plunge--an' go an' scarify hissel'
+'pon the high menial altar."
+
+Immense excitement at this point prevailed among certain elderly
+spinsters present.
+
+"That was a joke," explained the speaker, with a sudden and stony
+solemnity, "an' I hopes 'twill be tuk in the sperrit in which 'twas
+meant.  An' wi' that I gi'es Tamsin's health an' that o' P. Fogo,
+Esquire, to whom she has been this day made man an' wife; an' bless
+them an' their dear offspring!"
+
+At this point he was sitting down when Paul leant across and
+whispered in his ear.
+
+"You are right, Paul," said the orator--"or offsprings.  Bless their
+dear offspring _or_ offsprings--as the case may be."
+
+And with this he resumed his seat amid frantic applause.
+
+
+The Twins alone escorted the bride and bridegroom to the
+railway-station; and with the accident that there befell, the
+chronicle of Mr. Fogo's adventures may for the present close.
+While the brothers saw Tamsin to her carriage, and with their white
+waistcoats and gigantic favours planted awe in the breast of the
+travelling public, the bridegroom dived into the Booking Office to
+take the tickets for London; for Mr. and Mrs. Fogo were to spend some
+days in the Metropolis before crossing the Channel.
+
+Now it so happened that in the Booking Office there hung a gorgeous
+advertisement of one of the principal Steamship Companies,
+representing a painted ship, the S.S. _Popocatepetl_, upon a painted
+ocean, with a deckload of passengers in all varieties of national and
+fancy costume.  Mr. Fogo, as his eye rested on this company, halted
+and looked more closely.
+
+"That Highlander," he said, "is out of drawing."
+
+Purse in hand, he paused before the advertisement and slowly yielded
+to its spell.  His eyes grew fixed and glassy: tickets, train, and
+waiting bride had passed out of his mind.  Mr. Fogo's fit was upon
+him.
+
+
+Meanwhile the Twins, unconscious of the flight of time, and untutored
+in the ways of locomotives, were loading their sister with parting
+advice.
+
+"This 'ere," remarked Peter, pulling a bulky parcel from his pocket,
+"contains a variety o' useful articles for travellin', which I've
+a-reckoned up durin' the past week an' meant to hand 'ee at the las'
+moment.  There's a wax candle an' a box o' lucifers for the tunnels,
+an' a roll o' diach'lum plaister in case o' injury, an' 'Foxe's Book
+o' Martyrs,' ef you shud tire o' lookin' out at the windey, an'
+Thorley's-Food-for-Cattle Almanack for the las' thirteen year all
+done up separate, an' addressed to 'Mr. P. Dearlove, juxty Troy.'
+'Bout this last, I wants Mr. Fogo to post wan at ivery stashun where
+you stops, so's we may knaw you've got there safe."
+
+"I see," broke in Paul, who had been spelling through the notices
+with which the carriage was adorned, "there's a fine not exceedin'
+saxty shillin' ef you communicates wi' the guard wi'out reason, an'
+wuss ef you cuts the cush'ns or damages the compartment.  You'd bes'
+call Mr. Fogo's 'tention to that."
+
+"An' warn 'un not to get out while the train's i' motion; but you was
+al'ays thoughtful, Tamsin.  God bless thee, little maid!  Et makes my
+head swim o' whiles to think 'pon the times I've a-danced 'ee 'pon my
+knee, an' now you'm a married woman!"
+
+"God bless you both, my dear brothers!"
+
+"Amazin'," said Paul; "I see the Cumpenny won't hold itsel' liable
+for--"
+
+There was a slamming of doors, a shriek of the whistle, and the train
+began to move away.  At the same moment Mr. Fogo darted out of the
+Booking Office, and came tearing up the platform.
+
+"Where's my wife?" he cried.  "Which carriage--?"
+
+It was too late.  The carriage was already beyond the platform, and
+the train had gathered speed.  But presence of mind belongs not to
+experience only.  At the end of the train was hitched an empty
+clay-truck, bound on a return journey to Five Lanes Junction.
+Quick as thought the Twins, as Mr. Fogo rushed up to them, caught him
+by the coat collar and seat of his trousers, and with one timely
+heave sent him flying into this.  When he staggered to his feet--
+hatless, without spectacles, and besmeared with clay from head to
+foot--the train was fifty yards beyond the station.  And so, staring
+back mournfully at the little group upon the platform, he vanished
+from their sight.
+
+"That," said Peter, turning slowly to his brother, "was nibby-gibby."
+
+"Tamsin mou't ha' communicated wi' the guard," responded Paul, "on'y
+that, wi'out sufficient reason, wud ha' been not exceedin' saxty
+shillin'.  Do 'ee think 'twud ha' been held sufficient reason?"
+
+"I dunno.  I reckon they mou't ha' made et two-pund-ten, all things
+conseddered," said his brother thoughtfully, "but there's no
+knawin'."
+
+
+It is always hateful to say good-bye to friends, and here, with his
+leave, the reader shall be left to guess on the later fortunes of
+Tamsin and Mr. Fogo, the Twins and Caleb.  It may be, if he care, and
+the Fates so order it, he shall some day follow them through new
+adventures; but it will be far from Troy Town.  And for the present
+they shall fare as his imagination pleases.
+
+Of Tamsin, however, who is thus left with her good or sorry fortune
+before her, something shall be hinted.  Public opinion at Troy
+condemned her marriage.  As Miss Limpenny neatly asked, "If we were
+all to marry beneath us, pray where should we stop?"  "We should go
+on," replied the Admiral, "_ad libitum_."  I am inclined to think he
+meant "_ad infinitum_;" but the argument is quite as cogent as it
+stands.
+
+And yet, since they returned to Kit's House, which they did after an
+absence of three years, Mr. and Mrs. Fogo have been called upon by
+the _Cumeelfo_.  Some months ago the Admiral button-holed me in the
+street.
+
+"I say, who are all those people staying with--with your friends? I
+mean, the strangers I saw in Church yesterday--a very creditable lot,
+upon my word."
+
+"I am glad you approve of them," I answered gravely.  "The lady with
+the spectacles is Miss Gamma Girton, the Novelist of Agnosticism; the
+tall man in black, Thomas Daniel, the critic--"
+
+"Oh, literary people."
+
+"Quite.  Then there is Sir Inchcape Bell, the great Engineer; and
+Lady Judy Twitchett--her husband (the young man with the bald head)
+sits for Horkey-boro', you know, and will be in the Cabinet with the
+next--"
+
+But the Admiral was already hurrying down the street.  That very
+afternoon he took his family up to Kit's House, to call; and has been
+calling at short intervals ever since.
+
+
+The Goodwyn-Sandys, unless we are sharper than the police, we shall
+never see again.  So close was the pursuit, however, that they were
+forced to leave the portmanteau in the cloak-room at Paddington
+Station, where it was discovered and opened.  It contained a highly
+curious clock-work toy, and enough dynamite to raze St. Paul's to the
+ground.  Even without exploding, it converted three statesmen to Home
+Rule.
+
+Mr. Moggridge's resignation of his post in the Customs was received
+without expressed regret.  He has since married Sophia Buzza, and
+edits a Conservative paper in Wales.  I see that another volume of
+his verse is in the press.  It is to be called "Throbs: and other
+Trifles," and will include the epithalamium written by him for his
+own nuptials, as well as his "Farewell to Troy!"--a composition which
+Mrs. Buzza said she defied "you to read without feeling as if geese
+were walking over your grave."
+
+Sam Buzza has gone to College.
+
+
+
+And what of Troy Town?  By degrees the old phrases, old catch-words,
+and old opinions have come to reign again.  Troy's unchanged
+loveliness too, the daily round full of experiences familiar as old
+friends, the dear monotony of sight and sound in the little port--all
+have made for healing and oblivion.  If you question us on a certain
+three months in our life, the chances are you will get no answer.
+We have agreed to forget, you see; and so we are beginning to
+persuade ourselves, almost, that those months have never been.
+
+Almost.  But, as a fact, Mrs. Buzza had been right.  "It will never
+be the same again-never!"  Something we have lost, and I think that
+something is Troy.  For strangers have come amongst us, and have
+formed a society of their own.  The Town is grown out of our
+knowledge.  They have built, and are building, mansions of stucco,
+and a hotel of hideous brick; a fifth-rate race-meeting threatens the
+antique regatta; and before all this the savour of Trojan life is
+departing.  Ilion is down, and by no assault of war.
+
+And yet--
+
+The evening before last I passed up the road in front of No. I, Alma
+Villas.  The air was warm, and through the half-opened window a voice
+stole out--
+
+"In the Great Exhibition of 1851, my dear, Her Majesty the Queen,
+while partaking of luncheon--"
+
+
+
+
+***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ASTONISHING HISTORY OF TROY
+TOWN***
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