diff options
Diffstat (limited to '17263-h')
| -rw-r--r-- | 17263-h/17263-h.htm | 9686 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 17263-h/images/FIG1.JPG | bin | 0 -> 72470 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 17263-h/images/FIG10.JPG | bin | 0 -> 21837 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 17263-h/images/FIG11.JPG | bin | 0 -> 66149 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 17263-h/images/FIG12.JPG | bin | 0 -> 66194 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 17263-h/images/FIG13.JPG | bin | 0 -> 14538 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 17263-h/images/FIG14.JPG | bin | 0 -> 66963 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 17263-h/images/FIG15.JPG | bin | 0 -> 79570 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 17263-h/images/FIG2.JPG | bin | 0 -> 60243 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 17263-h/images/FIG3.JPG | bin | 0 -> 33841 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 17263-h/images/FIG4.JPG | bin | 0 -> 62216 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 17263-h/images/FIG5.JPG | bin | 0 -> 37120 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 17263-h/images/FIG6.JPG | bin | 0 -> 80106 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 17263-h/images/FIG7.JPG | bin | 0 -> 46532 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 17263-h/images/FIG8.JPG | bin | 0 -> 48052 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 17263-h/images/FIG9.JPG | bin | 0 -> 54629 bytes |
16 files changed, 9686 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/17263-h/17263-h.htm b/17263-h/17263-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a6d7403 --- /dev/null +++ b/17263-h/17263-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,9686 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<html> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Astonishing History of Troy Town, by Sir Arthur Thomas Quiller-Couch</title> + +<style type="text/css"> + + body {background:#fdfdfd; + color:black; + font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; + font-size: medium; + margin-top:100px; + margin-left:12%; + margin-right:12%; + text-align:justify; } + h1, h2, h3, h4, h5 {text-align: center; } + p {text-indent: 4%; } + p.noindent {text-indent: 0%; } + hr.full { width: 100%; + height: 5px; } + hr.narrow { width: 40%; + text-align: center; } + blockquote.footnote { font-size: small; } + .caption { font-size: small; + font-weight: bold; } + .center { text-align: center; } + .ind2 {margin-left: 2em; } + .ind4 {margin-left: 4em; } + .ind10 {margin-left: 10em; } + .large {font-size: large; } + a:link {color:blue; + text-decoration:none} + link {color:blue; + text-decoration:none} + a:visited {color:blue; + text-decoration:none} + a:hover {color:red} + pre {font-size: 70%; } +</style> +</head> +<body> +<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Astonishing History of Troy Town, by Sir +Arthur Thomas Quiller-Couch</h1> +<pre> +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 <a href = "https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: The Astonishing History of Troy Town</p> +<p>Author: Sir Arthur Thomas Quiller-Couch</p> +<p>Release Date: December 9, 2005 [eBook #17263]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: UTF-8</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ASTONISHING HISTORY OF TROY TOWN***</p> +<br><br><center><h3>E-text prepared by Lionel Sear</h3></center><br><br> +<hr class="full" noshade> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<img src="images/FIG1.JPG" +alt="This regiment of visitors. (Chapter VII)"><br> +<span class="caption">"This regiment of visitors." +(Chapter VII)</span> +</center> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + +<h2>THE ASTONISHING HISTORY OF TROY TOWN.</h2> + +<h4>by</h4> + +<h2>Arthur Thomas Quiller-Couch.</h2> + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<h5>1914</h5> + +<h5>This etext prepared from a reprint of a version published in 1914.</h5> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr class="narrow"> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<blockquote> +<p class="noindent"><b>TO CHARLES CANNAN</b>.</p> +<br> + +<p class="noindent"><i>My Dear Cannan,</i></p> + +<p><i>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!"</i></p> + +<p><i>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—</i></p> + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p><i>"O, deary me! this is none of I!"</i></p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + +<p><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.</i></p> + +<center> +<i>Wargrave, Henley-on-Thames,<br> +June 7, 1888</i> +</center> +</blockquote> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr class="narrow"> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<center> +<h3>CONTENTS</h3> +<p> </p> +<table cellpadding="2"> +<tr><td align="center" valign="top">Chapter</td><td> </td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">I. </td><td><a href="#1">IN WHICH THE READER IS MADE ACQUAINTED WITH A STATE OF + INNOCENCE; AND THE MEANING OF THE WORD "CUMEELFO"</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">II. </td><td><a href="#2">HOW AN ADMIRAL TOOK ONE GENTLEMAN FOR ANOTHER, AND WAS TOLD + THE DAY OF THE MONTH.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">III. </td><td><a href="#3">OF A BLUE-JERSEYED MAN THAT WOULD HOIST NO MORE BRICKS; AND A + NIGHTCAP THAT HAD NO BUSINESS TO BE WHERE IT WAS.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">IV. </td><td><a href="#4">OF CERTAIN LEPERS; AND TWO BROTHERS WHO, BEING MUCH ALIKE, + LOVED THEIR SISTER AND RECOMMENDED THE USE OF GLOBES.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">V. </td><td><a href="#5">HOW AN ABSENT-MINDED MAN, THAT HATED WOMEN, TOOK A HOUSE BY + THE WATERSIDE AND LIVED THEREIN WITH ONE SERVANT.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">VI. </td><td><a href="#6">HOW CERTAIN TROJANS CLIMBED A WALL OUT OF CURIOSITY; AND OF A + CHARWOMAN THAT COULD GIVE NO INFORMATION.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">VII. </td><td><a href="#7">OF A LADY THAT HAD A MUSICAL VOICE, BUT USED IT TO DECEIVE.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">VIII. </td><td><a href="#8">HOW A CREW, THAT WOULD SAIL ON A WASHING-DAY, WAS SHIPWRECKED: + WITH AN ADVERTISEMENT AGAINST WOMEN.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">IX. </td><td><a href="#9">OF A TOWN THAT WOULD LAUGH AT THE GREAT: AND HOW A DULL + COMPANY WAS CURED BY AN IRISH SONG.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">X. </td><td><a href="#10">OF ONE EXCURSION AND MANY ALARUMS.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XI. </td><td><a href="#11">OF A WESLEYAN MINISTER THAT WOULD IMPROVE UPON NATURE, AND + THEREBY TRAINED A ROOK TO GOOD PRINCIPLES.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XII. </td><td><a href="#12">OF DETERIORATION; AND A WHEELBARROW THAT CONTAINED UNEXPECTED + THINGS.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XIII. </td><td><a href="#13">THE SIGNIFICANCE OF POMEROY'S CAT; AND HOW THE MEN AND WOMEN + OF TROY ENSUED AFTER PLEASURE IN BOATS.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XIV. </td><td><a href="#14">OF A LADY OF SENSIBILITY THAT, BEING AWKWARDLY PLACED, MIGHT + EASILY HAVE SET MATTERS RIGHT, BUT DID NOT; WITH MUCH BESIDE.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XV. </td><td><a href="#15">HOW A LADY AND A YOUTH, BEING SEPARATED FROM THEIR COMPANY, + VISITED A SHIP THAT HELD NOTHING BUT WATER.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XVI. </td><td><a href="#16">OF STRATEAGEMS AND SPOILS; AND THAT THE NOMINALISTS ERR WHO + HOLD A THING TO BE WHAT IT IS CALLED.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XVII. </td><td><a href="#17">HOW ONE THAT WAS DISSATISFIED WITH HIS PAST SAW A VISION, BUT + DOUBTED.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XVIII. </td><td><a href="#18">OF A YOUNG MAN THAT WOULD START UPON A DARK ADVENTURE, BUT + HAD TWO MINDS UPON IT.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XIX. </td><td><a href="#19">THAT A SILVER BULLET HAS VIRTUE; WITH A WARNING TO COMMODORES.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XX. </td><td><a href="#20">HOW CERTAIN CHARACTERS FOUND THEMSELVES, AT DEAD OF NIGHT, UPON + THE FIVE LANES ROAD.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XXI. </td><td><a href="#21">THAT A VERY LITTLE TEA MAY SUFFICE TO ELEVATE A MAN.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XXII. </td><td><a href="#22">IN WHICH SEVERAL ATTEMPTS ARE MADE TO PUT A PERIOD TO THIS + HISTORY.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XXIII. </td><td><a href="#23">HOW ONE LOVER TOOK LEAVE OF HIS WITS, AND TWO CAME TO THEIR + SENSES.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XXIV. </td><td><a href="#24">OF THE BEST HELLEBORE; AND AN EXPERIMENT IN THE ENTERTAINMENT + OF TWINS.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XV. </td><td><a href="#25">WHICH ENDS THIS STORY OF TROY.</a></td></tr> +</table> +</center> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr class="narrow"> +<br> +<br> +<br> + +<br> +<center> +<img src="images/FIG2.JPG" +alt="The Astonishing History of Troy Town"> +</center> +<br> +<br> +<p><a name="1"></a> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER I.</h3> +<h3>IN WHICH THE READER IS MADE ACQUAINTED WITH A STATE OF +INNOCENCE; AND THE MEANING OF THE WORD "CUMEELFO".</h3> +<br> + +<p>"Any news to-night?" asked Admiral Buzza, leading a trump.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"I will not hush, Emily. I repeat, is there any news to-night?"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Twins, eh?" growled the Admiral. "Just what I expected. She always was a +wasteful woman."</p> + +<p>"My love!" expostulated his wife. Miss Limpenny blushed.</p> + +<p>"They'll come to the workhouse," he went on, "and serve him right for making +such a marriage."</p> + +<p>"I have heard that his heart is in the right place," pleaded Miss Limpenny, "but he +used—"</p> + +<p>"Eh, ma'am?"</p> + +<p>"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—"</p> + +<p>"Just so," replied the Admiral, "and now it's twins. Bless the man! what next?"</p> + +<p>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 <i>fleur-de-lys</i>.</p> + +<p>I wish I could convey to you some of the innocent mirth of those "evenings" in +Troy—those <i>noctes Limpennianae</i> 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.</p> + +<p>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 <i>Cumeelfo</i> was Anathema.</p> + +<p>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—</p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="noindent"> Crochet Antimacassars.<br> + Art in the style of the "Greek Slave."<br> +"Elegant Extracts," and the British Poets as edited by Gilfillan.<br> + Corkscrew Curls and Prunella Boots.<br> + Album Verses.<br> + Quadrille-dancing, and the <i>Deux-temps</i>.<br> + Popular Science.<br> + Proposals on the bended Knee.<br> + Conjuring and Variety Entertainments.<br> + The Sentimental Ballad.<br> + The Proprieties, etc., etc., etc.</p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>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 <i>cumeelfo</i>), and peals +of guileless laughter from time to time broke in upon the grave silence of the +whist-table.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>But at length the signal would be given by Miss Priscilla.</p> + +<p>"Come, a little music perhaps might leave a pleasant taste. What do you say, +Vicar?"</p> + +<p>Upon which the Vicar would regularly murmur—</p> + +<p>"Say, rather, would gild refined gold, Miss Limpenny."</p> + +<p>And the Admiral as invariably broke in with—</p> + +<p>"Come, Sophy! remember the proverb about little birds that can sing and won't +sing."</p> + +<p>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—</p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="noindent"><i>Sophia</i> (singing): "Oh, breathe but a whispered command."<br> +<i>Calypso: "One, two, three, four</i>."<br> +<i>Sophia</i>: "I'll lay down my life for thee!"<br> +<i>Calypso: "One, two, three, four</i>." +</blockquote> + + +<p class="noindent">—the effect of which upon strangers has been known to be paralysing, though we +who were <i>cumeelfo</i> 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 "<i> H.M.S. Calypso</i> in a Storm," which hangs to this +day over the Admiral's mantelpiece.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>It was announced to us in this manner—</p> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>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—</p> + + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class="noindent">"Maiden"—</p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + + +<p>(Here he looked very hard at Miss Lavinia Limpenny.)</p> + + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class="noindent">"Maiden, what dost thou in the chill churchyard<br> +<span class="ind2">Beside yon grassy mound?</span><br> + The night hath fallen, the rain is raining hard<br> +<span class="ind2">Damp is the ground."</span></p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + + +<p>Mrs. Buzza shivered, and began to weep quietly.</p> + + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class="noindent">"Maiden, why claspest thou that cold, cold stone<br> +<span class="ind2">Against thy straining breast?</span><br> + Tell me, what dost thou at this hour alone?<br> +<span class="ind2">(<i>Persuasively</i>) The lambs have gone to rest.</span><br> + The maiden lifted up her tearful gaze,<br> +<span class="ind2">And thus she made reply:</span><br> + 'My mother, sir, is—'"</p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + + +<p>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.</p> + +<br> +<br> +<center> +<img src="images/FIG3.JPG" +alt="Maiden, what dost thou in the chill churchyard—"><br> +<span class="caption">"Maiden, what dost thou +in the chill churchyard—"</span> +</center> +<br> +<br> + +<p>"I say, have you heard the news? 'The Bower' is let."</p> + +<p>"What!"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"It's a fact; I heard it down at the <i>Man-o'-War</i> 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."</p> + +<p>The poet's arm dropped like a railway signal. There was a long pause, and then +the voices broke out all together—</p> + +<p>"Only fancy!"</p> + +<p>"There now!"</p> + +<p>"'The Bower' let at last!"</p> + +<p>"An Honourable, too!"</p> + +<p>"What is he like?"</p> + +<p>"Are you sure?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I never did!"</p> + +<p>"Miss Limpenny," gasped the Admiral, at length, "where is your Burke?"</p> + +<p>It lay between the "Cathedrals of England" and "Gems of Modern Art"; under the +stereoscope. Miss Lavinia produced it.</p> + +<p>"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—"</p> + +<p>"Married!"</p> + +<p>"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!"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Emily," snapped her husband, "you speak like a fool. Pooh! Let me tell you, +ma'am, that our ways in Troy are not humble!"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + + +<br> +<br> +<p><a name="2"></a> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER II.</h3> +<h3>HOW AN ADMIRAL TOOK ONE GENTLEMAN FOR ANOTHER,<br> +AND WAS TOLD THE DAY OF THE MONTH.</h3> +<br> + + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>As it drew up, a mild spectacled face appeared at the window of a first-class +carriage, and asked—</p> + +<p>"Is this Troy?"</p> + +<p>"Yessir—terminus. Any luggage, sir?"</p> + +<p>The mild face got out. It belonged to the only stranger in the train.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Here he comes!"</p> + +<p>"Look, that's him!"</p> + +<p>"Give 'un a cheer, boys."</p> + +<p>"Hip, hip, hoor-roar!"</p> + +<p>The sound burst upon the clear sky in a deafening peal. The stranger paused and +looked confused.</p> + +<p>"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!"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"What <i>can</i> have caused this riot?"</p> + +<p>The stranger paused with a half-timid air, but after a while resumed his walk. The +shouts broke out again, and louder than ever.</p> + +<p>"Welcome, welcome to Troy! Hooroar! One more, lads! Hooroar!" and all the +handkerchiefs waved anew.</p> + +<p>"Bless my soul, what <i>is</i> the matter?"</p> + +<p>Then suddenly he became aware that all this frantic display was meant for <i>him</i>. +How he first learnt it he could never afterwards explain, but the shock of it brought +a deathly faintness.</p> + +<p>"There is some horrible mistake," he murmured hoarsely, and turned to run.</p> + +<p>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—</p> + +<p>"My friends," he shouted, "you are—"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, we know. Welcome! Welcome! Hip-hip-hoo-roar!"</p> + +<p>"My friends, I assure you—"</p> + +<p><i>Boom! Boom! Tring-a-ring—boom!</i></p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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!"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>For Admiral Buzza had opened his front gate and deliberately stepped out into the +road.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Make way for the Admiral!" "Out of the road, there!" "The Admiral's going to +speak!" "Silence for the Admiral!"</p> + +<p>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—</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>Vociferous applause followed this impromptu trope, and for some moments the +Admiral's voice was completely drowned.</p> + +<p>"I hope and trust," he went on, as soon as silence was restored, "that she enjoys +good health."</p> + +<p>The stranger looked more perplexed than ever.</p> + +<p>"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.)</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Certainly I am not."</p> + +<p>"Then, damme, sir! who are you?" cried the Admiral, whose temper was, as we +know, short.</p> + +<p>"My name is Fogo," replied the stranger. "Here is my card—Philip Fogo—at your +service."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>The situation needed a solution. A wag among the crowd hit upon it.</p> + +<p>"Tell th' Admiral, some of 'ee: what day es et?"</p> + +<p>"Fust of April!" cried a voice, then another; and then—</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>The credit of Trojan humour was saved. With a final oath the Admiral dashed +through his front gate and into the house. The <i>volgus infidum</i> formed in +procession again, and marched back with shouts of merriment; the <i>popularis +aura</i> of the five-and-twenty fifers resumed the "Conquering Hero," and Mr. Fogo +was left standing alone in the middle of the road.</p> + + +<br> +<br> +<p><a name="3"></a> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER III.</h3> +<h3>OF A BLUE-JERSEYED MAN THAT WOULD HOIST NO MORE BRICKS; +AND A NIGHTCAP THAT HAD NO BUSINESS TO BE WHERE IT WAS.</h3> +<br> + + +<p>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"?</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>The owner of the bricks swore worse than ever.</p> + +<p>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:—</p> + + +<blockquote><blockquote> + <p class="noindent">"Was you iver to Que-bec,<br> + <span class="ind2">Bonnie laddie, Hieland laddie</span><br> + Was you iver to Que-bec,<br> + Rousing timber over the deck?<br> + <span class="ind2">Hey my bonny laddie!</span><br> + Wur-roo! my heart's—"</p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + + +<p>The rage of the little man found extra vent.</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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'."</p> + +<p>With this Caleb stepped ashore, spat good-naturedly, put his hands in his pockets, +and went off whistling.</p> + +<p>At this moment Mr. Fogo, who had been on the quay long enough to hear this +altercation, touched him softly by the arm.</p> + +<p>"You said you were going to have a drink, I believe. May I go with you? I wish +to ask you a few questions."</p> + + +<br> +<br> +<center> +<img src="images/FIG4.JPG" +alt="You said you were going to have a drink, +I believe. May I go with you?"><br> +<span class="caption">"You said you were going to have a drink,<br> +I believe. May I go with you?"</span> +</center> +<br> +<br> + + +<p>"Sutt'nly, sir," said Caleb with a stifled grin, as he recognised the hero of the +morning. "<i>I</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'."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Are you a single man, then?"</p> + +<p>"To be sure, sir."</p> + +<p>"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—"</p> + +<p>Fig4.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>Caleb scratched his head.</p> + +<p>"I'm sure, sir, 'tes hard to say. Troy's a powerful place for knowin' what your +neighbour's got for dinner, and they <i>do</i> say as the Admiral's telescope will carry +dro' a brick wall."</p> + +<p>Mr. Fogo's face fell.</p> + +<p>"Stop a bit," said Caleb more brightly. "About livin' inside o' the town, now—es +that a shiny cannon?"</p> + +<p>"A what?"</p> + +<p>"A shiny cannon—which es the same as to say, won't et do elst?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, a <i>sine-qua-non</i>," said Mr. Fogo; "no, I am not particularly anxious to live +in the town itself."</p> + +<p>"Wud the matter of a mile up the river be out o' the way?"</p> + +<p>"Not at all."</p> + +<p>"An' about rent?"</p> + +<p>"Within reasonable limits, that would not matter."</p> + +<p>"Then my advice to you, sir, es to see the Twins about et."</p> + +<p>Mr. Fogo's mild face looked more puzzled than ever. He removed his spectacles, +wiped and resumed them.</p> + +<p>"For any reasonable object," he said, "I am ready to see any number of +twins—much as I dislike babies—"</p> + +<p>But here Caleb interrupted him by bursting into a roar of laughter which lasted for +half a minute.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"No offence, sir. On'y they owns Kit's House, that's all."</p> + +<p>"I see; and Kit's House is the place you have in your mind."</p> + +<p>"That's et, sir."</p> + +<p>"And these Dearloves, where do they live?"</p> + +<p>"Furder up the river by two mile."</p> + +<p>"Could you row me up this afternoon to see them?"</p> + +<p>Caleb Trotter rose, and drew the back of his hand across his mouth.</p> + +<p>"Wi' all the pleasure in life, sir, as Uncle Zachy said when he gi'ed his da'ter in +marriage."</p> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Emily!" he bellowed, "Em-i-ly, I say! Come down this instant."</p> + +<p>The three Misses Buzza at the parlour window knew the tone, and shuddered: Mrs. +Buzza, up-stairs, heard, trembled, and obeyed.</p> + +<p>"Yes, darling. What is it?"</p> + +<p>"Fill the warming-pan at once. I'm going to bed."</p> + +<p>"To bed, love!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, to bed. Don't I speak plainly enough? To bed, ma'am, to bed, and at +once."</p> + +<p>"You are upset, dearest; be cool, I implore you."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Pull down the blind, and bring me something to eat!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, love."</p> + +<p>"And be quick about it. Can't you see I'm starving?"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"You call that a dinner for a hungry man, I suppose! Bring me some more!"</p> + +<p>"My dear, I didn't know you wanted a dinner."</p> + +<p>"Confound it, ma'am! must I put dress-studs in my night-shirt to convince you I +want to dine? Bring me some more!"</p> + +<p>"There is no more fowl, dear. I kept this from yesterday's as a tit-bit for you."</p> + +<p>"What is for dinner to-day?"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"I don't care, bring it!"</p> + +<p>The mention of the arrivals sent the Admiral up to a white heat again.</p> + +<p>"But, my—"</p> + +<p>"Bring it!"</p> + +<p>It was brought. The Admiral had two helpings, and then a glass of grog.</p> + +<p>"Go."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Will you kindly inform me what the devil's wrong with this bed? Who made it?"</p> + +<p>"Selina, dear."</p> + +<p>"Then will you kindly give Selina a month's notice on the spot? Do you hear? On +the spot—What's that?"</p> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>The Honourable Frederic Augustus Hythe Goodwyn-Sandys and his wife, instead +of arriving by train, had posted from Five-Lanes Junction.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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 <i>Cumeelfo</i>; she had counted the boxes twice, and made them +seven each time; she was about to count the buttons on the liveried youth, when—</p> + +<p>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!</p> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + + +<br> +<br> +<p><a name="4"></a> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER IV.</h3> +<h3>OF CERTAIN LEPERS; AND TWO BROTHERS,<br> +WHO, BEING MUCH ALIKE, LOVED THEIR SISTER,<br> +AND RECOMMENDED THE USE OF GLOBES.</h3> +<br> + + +<p>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?"</p> + +<p>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?</p> + +<p>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?"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>The eyes of Mr. Fogo, as Caleb pulled sturdily up with the tide, were passing +through the first of these stages.</p> + +<p>"This," he said at length, reflectively, "is one of the loveliest spots I have looked +upon."</p> + +<p>Caleb, in whom humanity and Trojanity were nicely compounded, flushed a bright +copper-colour with pleasure.</p> + +<p>"'Tes reckoned a tidy spot," he answered modestly, "by them as cares for voos an' +such-like."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Is the cottage uninhabited, too?"</p> + +<p>"Both on 'em. Ha'nted they <i>do</i> say. By the way, I niver axed 'ee whether you +minded ghostes?"</p> + +<p>"Ghosts?"</p> + +<p>"Iss, ghostes. This 'ere place was a Lazarus one time, where they kept leppards."</p> + +<p>"Leopards? How very singular!" murmured Mr. Fogo.</p> + +<p>"Ay, leppards as white as snow, as the sayin' goes."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I see," said Mr. Fogo, suddenly enlightened. "You mean that this was a +Lazar-house."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>Caleb stopped rowing, and leant forward on his paddles.</p> + +<p>"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—"</p> + +<p>"Who was he?" interrupted Mr. Fogo.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"And the ghosts?" said Mr. Fogo, much interested.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>Mr. Fogo had fallen into a reflective silence.</p> + +<p>"'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—"</p> + +<p>"A what?"</p> + +<p>"Pyll, sir, otherwise a creek—'c, r, double e, k—an arm o' the sea,' as the spellin' +book says."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>But a true Trojan must still be talking. Presently Caleb resumed.</p> + +<p>"'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:—"</p> + + +<blockquote><blockquote> + <p class="noindent">"Natur' has 'ere assoomed her softest garb;<br> + 'Ere would I live an' die</p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + + +<p class="noindent">"—which I calls a very touchin' sentiment, an' like what they says in a nigger +song."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>Caleb headed the boat for this smoke, ran her nose on the pebbles beneath a low +cliff, and stepped out.</p> + +<p>"'Ere we are, sir."</p> + +<p>"But I don't see any house," said Mr. Fogo, perplexed.</p> + +<p>"All in good time, sir," replied Mr. Trotter, and having fastened up the boat, led +the way.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Why, Caleb," she cried, "who would have thought it? Come inside; you're as +welcome as flowers in May."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Both, thank you, Caleb," said the maiden, curtseying without embarrassment to +Mr. Fogo. "Won't you come in, sir?"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + + +<br> +<br> +<center> +<img src="images/FIG5.JPG" +alt="The Twins advanced upon him simultaneously."><br> +<span class="caption">The Twins advanced upon him +simultaneously.</span> +</center> +<br> +<br> + + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>Tamsin curtseyed, and the two horny palms were again presented. Not knowing +which to take first,</p> + +<p>Mr. Fogo held his umbrella between his knees and gave them a hand a-piece.</p> + +<p>"I am afraid, Mr.—" He hesitated with a suspicion that he ought to say "Messrs."</p> + +<p>"Dearlove," suggested Caleb; "an' reckoned a purty name, too."</p> + +<p>"I am afraid, Mr. Dearlove," repeated Mr. Fogo, compromising matters by staring +hard between the Twins, "that we have interrupted you."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"I came," he said at last, "to inquire about Kit's House, which I hear is to let."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>Here he looked at Paul, who nodded gravely and repeated, in his former +mechanical tone, "for Tamsin to say."</p> + +<p>Mr. Fogo looked more distressed than ever.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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—</p> + +<p>"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!"</p> + +<p>"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 +<i>have</i> 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?"</p> + +<p>"You have spoken, Peter," said the other twin, very slowly, "like a printed book. +Let Tamsin speak her mind about et."</p> + +<p>The girl came forward from the fireplace, and Mr. Fogo, as he stole a glance at +her, could see that her eyes were red.</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>Tamsin's reply was to fall on her knees before the speaker and break into a fit of +weeping.</p> + +<p>"Don't ask me, don't ask me! I don't want to be a lady, an' I <i>won't</i> leave you. +Don't ask me, my dear, dear brothers!"</p> + +<p>Peter stroked the dark head buried in his lap, while Paul blew his nose violently in +a yellow bandanna, and replied to Mr. Fogo.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + + +<br> +<br> +<p><a name="5"></a> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER V.</h3> +<h3>HOW AN ABSENT-MINDED MAN, THAT HATED WOMEN,<br> +TOOK A HOUSE BY THE WATER-SIDE,<br> +AND LIVED THEREIN WITH ONE SERVANT.</h3> +<br> + + +<p>"Well, sir," said Caleb Trotter, when the boat was pushed off, "what do 'ee think +of 'em?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Fogo, whose wits had been wool-gathering, came to himself with a start. "I +think they are very good people."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"A what?"</p> + +<p>"A dooplicity, sir, otherwise another of the same identical."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I see."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"You are fond of poetry, I see," said Mr. Fogo, with a smile.</p> + +<p>"Puffec'ly dotes on et, sir."</p> + +<p>"Have you ever composed any yourself?"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>Mr. Fogo gave the required promise.</p> + +<p>"Well, 'twas in this way. Once 'pon a time, me an' old Joe Bonaday was workin' +a smack round from Bristol. The <i>Betsy Ann</i> 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—"</p> + +<p>"Who was she?"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"I see."</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>Caleb made a long pause.</p> + +<p>"I should like to hear the verses, if you remember them," said Mr. Fogo.</p> + +<p>"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:—</p> + + +<blockquote><blockquote> + <p class="noindent">"See her glidin' dro' the water,<br> + <span class="ind2">Far, far away!</span><br> + Many a true heart's niver to be found.</p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + + +<p>"The last line alludes to my gal wot had recently e-loped wi' the Rooshan," Caleb +explained.</p> + +<p>"Was that all?"</p> + +<p>"That was all o' mine, sir, but Joe's was p'ints better. Just listen:—"</p> + + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class="noindent">"Fare thee well, Barnstaple steeple,—"</p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + + +<p>"(He was a Barnstaple man, sir, was Joe)—"</p> + + +<blockquote><blockquote> + <p class="noindent">"Fare thee well, I say,<br> + <span class="ind2">Never shall I see thee, once agen, a long + time ago."</span></p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Caleb," he said very quietly, after a while, "I think I shall take this house."</p> + +<p>"You will, sir?"</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Do you think that for a pound a week you could look after me?"</p> + +<p>"I'd like the chance."</p> + +<p>"That would exclude your food and clothes."</p> + +<p>Caleb hesitated for a moment, and then said, with Trojan independence—</p> + +<p>"You beant' a-goin' to rig me out in a yaller weskit an' small-clothes wi' a stripe +down the leg, by any chance?"</p> + +<p>"I was proposing that you should dress exactly as you do at present."</p> + +<p>"Then done wi' you, sir, an' thank 'ee. When be I to enter on my dooties?"</p> + +<p>"At once."</p> + +<p>"An' where, sir?"</p> + +<p>"Here."</p> + +<p>"Be you a-goin' to sleep the night in this moloncholy place?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly."</p> + +<p>"Very well, sir. Please yoursel', as Dick said to the press-gang. An' what be I to +do fust?"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"I <i>have</i> 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?"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>Mr. Fogo got off his barrel, went to the window, sighed softly, and returned. +Something in his manner imposed silence on Caleb.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>With the statement of which gloomy alternative Mr. Caleb Trotter broke into a +smile of honest pride.</p> + +<p>"Caleb," said Mr. Fogo from his hammock in the back kitchen at about eleven +o'clock on the same night.</p> + +<p>"Aye, aye, sir."</p> + +<p>"Are you comfortable?"</p> + +<p>"Thank'ee, sir, gettin' on nicely. Just a bit Man-Fridayish to begin wi', but as +corrat as Crocker's mare."</p> + +<p>"What did you say?"</p> + +<p>"Figger o' speech agen, sir, that's all. Good-night, sir."</p> + +<p>"Good-night, Caleb."</p> + +<p>Mr. Fogo settled himself in his hammock, sighed for a second time and dropped +asleep.</p> + + +<br> +<br> +<p><a name="6"></a> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER VI.</h3> +<h3>HOW CERTAIN TROJANS CLIMBED A WALL OUT OF CURIOSITY; AND +OF A CHARWOMAN THAT COULD GIVE NO INFORMATION.</h3> +<br> + + +<p>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 +<i>deshabille</i> (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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>He crossed the road, and opened a conversation with the driver.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Good-morning," said the Admiral, cheerily.</p> + +<p>"Mornin'."</p> + +<p>"What's a-foot to-day?"</p> + +<p>"Same as yesterday—twelve inches."</p> + +<p>The Admiral was rather taken aback, but smiled, nevertheless, and persevered.</p> + +<p>"Ha, ha! very good. You are a wit, I perceive."</p> + +<p>But the driver's conversation teemed with the unexpected.</p> + +<p>"Look 'ere, Ruby-face! give me any more of your sass an' I'll punch yer 'ed for +tuppence."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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 <i>so</i> like their stay +among us to be begun under pleasant auspices."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Gracious me!" exclaimed Miss Limpenny; "they are going to take a boat."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>For a full minute she stood there, tapping her foot.</p> + +<p>"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!"</p> + +<p>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!</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>Five minutes' stiff climbing, as they say in the <i>Alpine Journal</i>, 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 <i>arete</i> 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.</p> + +<p>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!</p> + +<p>The Spectre on the Brocken was nothing to this.</p> + +<p>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 <i>Macbeth</i>.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>The Admiral's telescope was tilted into position, and the Admiral half-turned his +head before applying his eye to the hole.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Damnation!" (This was the Admiral, by the way.)</p> + +<p>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 <i>serac</i> 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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Cease, Emily. Your tears, your protestations are in vain. Stop, I tell you! Get +me my uniform."</p> + +<p>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?</p> + +<p>The Admiral had made up his mind. He was going to interview Mrs. Snell, the +charwoman.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Lawks, sir! how you did frighten me, to be sure! I thought it was the devil!"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Snell," inquired the Admiral, in a whisper, "what are they like?" He +pointed melodramatically towards "The Bower" as he asked the question.</p> + +<p>Again the unexpected happened. Mrs. Snell burst into loud and hysterical sobbing.</p> + +<p>"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 +<i>'as</i> 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.</p> + +<p>"Hush! Confound it! Hush! I tell you. You'll have the whole town out."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>The Admiral was silent.</p> + +<p>"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'?"</p> + +<p>"I was particularly careful to pray for Lord Sinkport," said Calypso, innocently.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"My dear—" she began in her confusion.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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—</p> + +<p>"Emily, see that the girls have on their best gowns by eleven o'clock sharp. I am +going to pay a call."</p> + +<p>Consternation sat on every face. Sam Buzza paused in the act of breaking an egg.</p> + +<p>"At 'The Bower'?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"At 'The Bower.'"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Buzza clasped her hands nervously. The girls turned pale.</p> + +<p>"Oh, very well," said Sam, tapping his egg. "I shouldn't wonder if I turned up +while you were there."</p> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>"You!" exclaimed his father.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Girls, remember to be punctual. I will show this town of Troy that I am not the +man to be laughed at."</p> + + +<br> +<br> +<p><a name="7"></a> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER VII.</h3> +<h3>OF A LADY THAT HAD A MUSICAL VOICE,<br> +BUT USED IT TO DECEIVE.</h3> +<br> + + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>On the gravel walk stood Admiral Buzza with his three daughters.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>It was opened by the youth in buttons.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Is the Honourable Frederic Goodwyn-Sandys or the Honourable Mrs. +Goodwyn-Sandys at home?"</p> + +<p>Words cannot do justice to the Admiral's tone.</p> + +<p>The regiment was marched into the drawing-room, where Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys +rose to receive them.</p> + + +<br> +<br> +<center> +<img src="images/FIG6.JPG" +alt="Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys rose to receive them."><br> +<span class="caption">Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys rose to receive them.</span> +</center> +<br> +<br> + + +<p>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—</p> + + +<blockquote> +"TO GRACIOSA, WALKING AND TALKING." + +<blockquote> + <p class="noindent">Whenas abroad, to greet the morn,<br> + <span class="ind2">I mark my Graciosa walk,</span><br> + In homage bends the whisp'ring corn;<br> + <span class="ind4">Yet, to confess</span><br> + <span class="ind4">Its awkwardness,</span><br> + Must hang its head upon the stalk.<br> + <br> + And when she talks, her lips do heal<br> + <span class="ind2">The wound her lightest glances give.</span><br> + In pity, then, be harsh and deal<br> + <span class="ind4">Such wounds, that I</span><br> + <span class="ind4">May hourly die</span><br> + And, by a word revived, live!</p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + +<p>All this was very shocking of Mr. Moggridge; for Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys was not +<i>his</i> Graciosa at all. But it was what we were fated to come to, in Troy. And +Graciosa's voice and smile were certainly inspiring.</p> + +<p>Let us return to "The Bower." The Admiral having presented his daughters, and +arranged them in line again, cleared his throat and began—</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>Here the Admiral actually spread his arms abroad. His hostess retreated a step.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>(In point of fact, Mrs. Buzza had been judged too red in the eyes to accompany the +Admiral.)</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>Upon this hinted desire for information, the Admiral bestowed his cocked-hat +under the chair, and began—</p> + +<p>"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—"</p> + +<p>"On the contrary, I take the greatest interest in your trade."</p> + +<p>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—</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>But at this point the door opened, and Mr. Samuel Buzza entered, with Mr. +Goodwyn-Sandys himself.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Ah, Mr. Buzza, I am interested in you already—my husband has been telling me +how he met you."</p> + +<p>"Proud to hear it," muttered Sam.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes. I hope we shall be great friends. It is so kind of you all to call."</p> + +<p>Sam asked her not to mention it; and looked at his father, whose face was by this +time purple with conversation.</p> + +<p>"I say, ain't the old boy enjoying himself, though!" he remarked in a sudden burst +of confidence. "What do you think of him?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys smiled sweetly, and replied that the Admiral was "so +thorough."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>His hostess laughed. "You are very frank," she said.</p> + +<p>"That's me all over," replied Sam, evidently pleased. "You see, I ain't polite—not +a ladies' man in any way."</p> + +<p>"There I am sure you do yourself injustice."</p> + +<p>"No, 'pon my word! I never had any practice."</p> + +<p>"What, not among all the charming girls I saw in church yesterday? Oh, Mr. +Buzza, you mustn't tell me <i>that</i>." A look from the dark eyes accompanied this +sentence.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid you are a very sad character, Mr. Buzza."</p> + +<p>"No, really now."</p> + +<p>"And are deceiving me horribly."</p> + +<p>"No, really; wouldn't think of it."</p> + +<p>"Sam!" broke in the Admiral's voice in tones of thunder.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"How does Mr. Moggridge describe the 'Man-o'-War' Hotel?"</p> + +<p>"Says the beer's falling off, sir. It <i>did</i>, once upon a time, taste of the barrel, but +now he'll be hanged if it tastes of anything at all. It ought—"</p> + +<p>"Don't be a fool, sir! I mean in that poem of his from 'Ivy Leaves: or, Tendrils +from Troy.'"</p> + +<p>"Beg pardon, sir, I'm sure. Let me see—"</p> + +<p>Before he could recall it, Sophia finished the quotation, timidly. "I think, papa, I +can remember it:—"</p> + + +<blockquote><blockquote> + <p class="noindent"><span class="ind10">'And thou,</span><br> + Quaint hostel! 'neath whose mould'ring gable ends<br> + In amber draught I slake my noonday thirst…'</p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + + +<p>"Something like that, I think, papa."</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>"By the hour. But I shouldn't advise you to ask him. It's all about my sister."</p> + +<p>"Which?"</p> + +<p>"The eldest there—Sophy's her name—and don't judge from appearances; the family +diet is not hardware."</p> + +<p>"Hush, sir! you must not be rude. That reminds me that I ought to go and speak to +them."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"You are a great quiz, I perceive."</p> + +<p>"No, really, now, Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys."</p> + +<p>"But, really yes, Mr. Buzza. I shall have to cure you, I see, before I can trust my +husband in your company."</p> + +<p>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!</p> + +<p>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—</p> + +<p>"I say, dad, what do you think is the news about the seedy-looking fellow you +treated by mistake to all that speechifying?"</p> + +<p>The Admiral looked daggers, but Sam was imperturbable.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Kit's House!"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Be quiet, sir!"</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"Must you? Good-bye, then," she said, "but remember, you have to come and be +taught innocence."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'll remember, never fear," answered Sam, and departed.</p> + +<p>The Admiral also rose.</p> + +<p>"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!"</p> + +<p>He was gone. Scarcely, however, could his host and hostess exchange glances +before he reappeared.</p> + +<p>"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!"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Nellie, hand me a cigar. This beats cock-fighting."</p> + +<p>"Whist, me dear!" answered the lady, relapsing into honest brogue, "but Brady is +the bhoy to know the ropes."</p> + +<p>"I believe you, Nellie."</p> + +<p>Outside the garden gate the Admiral had fallen into a brown study.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Why, it was only yesterday, papa, that you praised it so!"</p> + +<p>"Did I? H'm! Well, well, now for the boat."</p> + +<p>"The boat, papa?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly, Sophy; we are going to call at Kit's House."</p> + + +<br> +<br> +<p><a name="8"></a> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER VIII.</h3> +<h3>HOW A CREW, THAT WOULD SAIL ON A WASHING-DAY, WAS +SHIPWRECKED: WITH AN ADVERTISEMENT AGAINST WOMEN.</h3> +<br> + + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"This is very extraordinary!" he muttered, "very extraordinary indeed!"</p> + +<p>"What is it, papa?" and the three Misses Buzza simultaneously turned their +mushroom hats to look.</p> + +<p>"I cannot tell, Sophia; but to me it appears as if these people were—not to put too +fine a point upon it—washing."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + + +<br> +<br> +<center> +<img src="images/FIG7.JPG" +alt="Washing-day."><br> +<span class="caption">Washing-day</span> +</center> +<br> +<br> + + +<p>The Admiral had chosen a washing-day for his first call at Kit's House.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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!"</p> + +<p>Still grasping the tiller-lines, the Admiral stood up on the stern seat and shouted.</p> + +<p>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!)</p> + +<p>"Hi! you must go back. Go away, I tell 'ee!" he gesticulated.</p> + +<p>"What on—"</p> + +<p>"Go away; no females allowed here. Off with 'ee this moment!"</p> + +<p>"Put down those —s, sir," yelled the Admiral.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"Sir," cried the Admiral, appealing to Mr. Fogo, "what is the meaning of this +extraordinary reception?"</p> + +<p>"Eh? What?" said that gentleman, who apparently had fallen into a fit of deep +abstraction. "I beg your pardon. I did not quite catch—"</p> + +<p>"What is the meaning of all this, sir?" The Admiral was scarlet with passion.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>The Admiral positively danced with rage.</p> + +<p>"There, what did I tell 'ee?" exclaimed Caleb triumphantly. "That's your answer, +and now you can go 'long home. Off with 'ee!"</p> + +<p>The Admiral's reply would probably have contained some strong words. It was +arrested by a catastrophe.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Papa! oh, save him—save our dear Papa!"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>Speechless with rage, the little man clambered over the stern and shook his fist at +the wondering spectacles of Mr. Fogo.</p> + +<p>"You shall repent this, sir! You shall—Jane, push the boat off at once!"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Do you hear me, sir? You shall repent this!" raved the Admiral.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>Caleb quietly returned to his work.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>He paused in the act of wringing a shirt, to look at Mr. Fogo.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Come, wake up! Do 'ee hear? What be glazin' at?"</p> + +<p>"Eh? Dear me!" stammered Mr. Fogo, as well as he might for the shaking. +"What's all this?"</p> + +<p>"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!"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"You are quite right, Caleb: my thoughts were wandering. Your treatment is a +trifle rough, but honest. Are those extraordinary people gone?"</p> + +<p>"Iss, sir; here they were, but gone—like Jemmy Rule's larks."</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon?"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Tar, Caleb?"</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"How be feelin'?" he asked, putting his head in at the dining-room door.</p> + +<p>Mr. Fogo laid down the mallet with which he had been nailing a loose plank in the +flooring, and looked up.</p> + +<p>"All right, Caleb, thank you."</p> + +<p>"I was afear'd you might be none compass agen."</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"None compass—Greek for 'mazed.' Good-bye for the present, sir."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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:—</p> + + +<br> +<center> +<span class="large"><b>TAKE NOTICE.<br> +<br> +ALL WIMMEN<br> +FOUND TRAPESING ON THIS<br> +BEECH WILL BE DEALT<br> +WITH ACCORDING<br> +TO THE LAW.</b></span> +</center> +<br><br> + + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + + +<br> +<br> +<center> +<img src="images/FIG8.JPG" +alt="Staring open-mouthed at the notice."><br> +<span class="caption">Staring open-mouthed at the notice.</span> +</center> +<br> +<br> + + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Mornin', sir," said Peter, after a long pause. His face wore a deepened colour, +and he smiled awkwardly.</p> + +<p>"Good-morning," replied Mr. Fogo.</p> + +<p>"A fine mornin'," repeated Peter, with a long gaze at the board, "an' no mistake."</p> + +<p>There was another long interval, during which everybody stared hard at the Notice.</p> + +<p>"'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.</p> + +<p>"What do 'ee think o' this 'ere Notice?" broke in Caleb.</p> + +<p>Paul twitched his yellow bandanna and smiled evasively.</p> + +<p>"'Tes very pretty writin', sir, sure-ly," he replied, addressing Mr. Fogo. "Nice +thick down-strokes, an' all as it shou'd be."</p> + +<p>"Uncommon fash'nubble et makes the beach look, sir, a'ready," added Peter.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>At the end of this long address, Peter, whose mahogany face was several shades +deeper, pulled up, and resumed his hat.</p> + +<p>"Ship-shape an' fitty—not wishful for to introod. That's so, Peter," echoed his +brother.</p> + +<p>Mr. Fogo looked at the pair helplessly, and again at Caleb, whose eyes were +obstinately averted.</p> + +<p>"Caleb!"</p> + +<p>"Sir."</p> + +<p>"Ask Miss Dearlove if she would mind stepping ashore."</p> + +<p>With a sudden brightening of face, Caleb called her name. Tamsin looked up.</p> + +<p>"Ef 'ee please, you'm to come ashore, to wance!"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"Iss, to be sure," grinned Caleb. "Why, us does our own washin'."</p> + +<p>Tamsin's eyes travelled without bashfulness over the array upon the beach.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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!"</p> + +<p>Mr. Fogo, though the words were not spoken to him, winced and turned to stare +abstractedly at the river.</p> + +<p> </p> + +<p>"Sir," said Caleb from his hammock that night, "cudn' 'ee put in a coddysel?"</p> + +<p>"A codicil?"</p> + +<p>"Iss, just to say, 'No wimmen allowed but Tamsin Dearlove—us don't mind she.' +Wudn' that do, sir?"</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid not, Caleb. By-the-bye, how does your Notice run? 'All women found +trespassing will be—'"</p> + +<p>"Dealt wi' 'cordin' to the law, sir."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + + +<br> +<br> +<p><a name="9"></a> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER IX.</h3> +<h3>OF A TOWN THAT WOULD LAUGH AT THE GREAT. AND HOW A DULL +COMPANY WAS CURED BY AN IRISH SONG.</h3> +<br> + + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Emily, get up!"</p> + +<p>She did so.</p> + +<p>"You are wet, my love," she ventured timorously.</p> + +<p>"<i>Wet!</i> Woman, is this the time for airy <i>persiflage?</i>"</p> + +<p>"My love," replied Mrs. Buzza, meekly, "nothing was further from my thoughts."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Emily," he cried, hoarsely, "Troy has laughed at me again. Put me to bed."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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—</p> + + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class="noindent">"Ye gods and little fishes…"</p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + + +<p class="noindent">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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile the Admiral sulked in bed, and nursed his ill-humour. On Tuesday he +was strangely softened and quiet; but:—</p> + +<p>On Wednesday he recovered, and began to bully his wife as fiercely as ever.</p> + +<p>On Thursday he broke the bell-rope again, and the servant gave warning.</p> + +<p>On Friday he threatened to make his will, and refused his food.</p> + +<p>On Saturday he was still fasting.</p> + +<p>On Sunday he ate voraciously, drank four glasses of grog, and threw the +wash-hand basin out of window.</p> + +<p>On Monday Mrs. Buzza revolted, and took herself off, with the girls, to Miss +Limpenny's party.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Have great pleasure in accepting," read Miss Limpenny to her sister. "The very +words. I'm sure it's most affable."</p> + +<p>"We must have cheesecakes—the famous cheesecakes—of course," reflected Miss +Lavinia, "and a dish of trifle, and jellies, and—oh, Priscilla!"</p> + +<p>"What, Lavinia?"</p> + +<p>"Do you think a Tipsy Cake would be unbecoming?"</p> + +<p>Miss Limpenny knit her brows over this bold proposal.</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>"Why not everybody, Priscilla dear?"</p> + +<p>"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 <i>badinage</i> 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!"</p> + +<p>"It <i>is</i> bright," assented Miss Lavinia.</p> + +<p>"And the Saunders! What a pity the girls cannot be invited without the boys."</p> + +<p>"The boys have always come before, Priscilla."</p> + +<p>Miss Limpenny groaned. "To meet an Honourable, Lavinia!"</p> + +<p>The leaven was working.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>Miss Limpenny, nervously toying with her best brooch, rose in a flutter as the door +opened and admitted them.</p> + +<p>"So afraid we are late! but the clocks at 'The Bower' have not yet recovered from +their journey."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys wore a low-necked gown!</p> + +<p>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!</p> + +<p>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—</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>I think we all envied Samuel Buzza at this moment.</p> + +<p>"Ah, nothing serious, I hope?" drawled Mr. Goodwyn-Sandys.</p> + +<p>"Serious, ha, ha! Haven't you heard—"</p> + +<p>"Sam, dear!" expostulated Mrs. Buzza.</p> + +<p>"All right, mother. He can't hear," and Sam plunged into the story.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Ah, indeed! Mr. Moggridge, I have been so longing to know you."</p> + +<p>Sam looked a trifle vexed. The poet simpered that he was happy.</p> + +<p>"Of course I have been reading 'Ivy Leaves.' So mournful I thought them, yet +somehow so attractive. How <i>did</i> you write it all?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Moggridge confessed amiably that he "didn't quite know."</p> + +<p>"Let me see; those lines beginning—"</p> + + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class="noindent">'O give me wings to—to—'</p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + + +<p>"I forget for the moment how it goes on."</p> + +<p>"'To fly away,'" suggested the bard.</p> + +<p>"Ah, exactly; 'to fly away.' So simple—just what one <i>would</i> wish wings for, you +know. It struck me very much when I read it. When did you think of it, Mr. +Moggridge?"</p> + +<p>The poet blushed and began to look uncomfortable.</p> + +<p>"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—"</p> + +<p>"The—the fact is," stammered Mr. Moggridge, "I—I thought of them— in—my +bath."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"I shall ask you to copy them into my Album. I always victimise a lion when I +meet one."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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—"</p> + +<p>Miss Limpenny, who did not know an Aylesbury Grind from a Bampton Lecture, +yet detected an unfamiliar ring in the Vicar's voice.</p> + +<p>"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—"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Lord Ballarat was riding too," the Vicar went on, "and young Tom Beauchamp, +son of the Bishop—"</p> + +<p>"Died of D.T. out at Malta with the Ninety-ninth," interpolated the Honourable +Frederic.</p> + +<p>"So I heard, poor fellow. Three-bottle Beauchamp we called him. I've put him to +bed many a time when—"</p> + +<p>It was too much.</p> + +<p>"In the Great Exhibition of 1851," began Miss Priscilla severely.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"It's an earthquake!" shouted the Honourable Frederic, starting up with an oath.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"I think it must be thunder," he gasped.</p> + +<p>"Or a landslip," suggested Sam Buzza.</p> + +<p>"Or a paroxysm of Nature," said Mr. Moggridge (though nobody knew what he +meant).</p> + +<p>"Or the end of the world," hazarded Mr. Goodwyn-Sandys.</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon," interposed Mrs. Buzza timidly, "but I think it may be my +husband."</p> + +<p>"Is your husband a volcano, madam?" snapped Mr. Goodwyn-Sandys, rather +sharply.</p> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>"But, my dear madam, what is the tune?"</p> + +<p>"I think," she faltered, "I am not sure, but I rather think, it is the 'Dead March' in +<i>Saul</i>."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Really, this is too absurd—ha! ha! <i>Tum-tum-tibby-tum</i>." The effort ended in +ghastly failure. <i>Thrum-thrum-tiddy-thrum</i> went the Admiral's instrument.</p> + +<p>Miss Limpenny grew desperate. "Sophia," she pleaded, "pray sing us one of your +cheerful ballads."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"I will try," she assented with something dangerously like a sob.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + + +<blockquote><blockquote> + <p class="noindent">"A month ago Lysander prayed To Jove,<br> + to Cupid, and to Venus—"</p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + + +<p><i>Thrum-thrum-thrum</i> 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.</p> + + +<blockquote><blockquote> + <p class="noindent">"That he might die, if he betrayed<br> + A single vow that passed between us."</p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + + +<p>"Sweetly touching!" murmured Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys.</p> + +<p>Sophia pursued—</p> + + +<blockquote><blockquote> + <p class="noindent">"O careless gods, to hear so ill,<br> + <span class="ind2">And cheat the maid on you relying;</span><br> + For false Lysander's thriving still,<br> + <span class="ind2">And 'tis Corinna lies a-dying."</span></p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + + +<p>"Is that all?" asked Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys as Sophia with flushed cheeks left the +piano.</p> + +<p>"That is all—a little effort not worth—"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Do you sing?" cried the delighted Mr. Moggridge.</p> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + + +<blockquote><blockquote> + <p class="noindent">"Be aisy an' list to a chune<br> + That's sung uv bowld Tim, the dragoon;<br> + <span class="ind2">Sure, 'twas he'd niver miss</span><br> + <span class="ind2">To be stalin' a kiss—</span><br> + Or a brace—by the light uv the moon,<br> + <span class="ind10">Aroon,</span><br> + Wid a wink at the man in the moon!"</p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"You must sing the last line in chorus, please," said Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys from +the piano—</p> + + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class="noindent">"Wid a wink at the man in the moon!"</p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + + +<p>It was sung timidly at first. Nothing daunted, the performer plunged into the next +verse—</p> + + +<blockquote><blockquote> + <p class="noindent">"Rest his sowl in the arms uv owld Nick!<br> + For he's gone from the land uv the quick:<br> + <span class="ind2">But he's still makin' luv</span><br> + <span class="ind2">To the leddies above,</span><br> + An' be jabbers! he'll tache 'em the thrick,<br> + <span class="ind10">Avick,</span><br> + Niver fear but he'll tache 'em the thrick!"</p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + + +<p>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.</p> + + +<blockquote><blockquote> + <p class="noindent">"'Tis by Tim the dear saints'll set sthore,<br> + And 'ull thrate him to whiskey galore;<br> + <span class="ind2">For they've only to sip</span><br> + <span class="ind2">But the tip uv his lip,</span><br> + An' bedad! they'll be askin' for more,<br> + <span class="ind10">Asthore,</span><br> + By the powers! they'll be shoutin' 'Ancore'!"</p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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—</p> + + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class="noindent">"An' be jabbers! he'll tache 'em the thrick!"</p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + + +<p>Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys had "taught us the trick," indeed.</p> + + +<br> +<br> +<p><a name="10"></a> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER X.</h3> +<h3>OF ONE EXCURSION AND MANY ALARUMS.</h3> +<br> + + +<p>"Caleb!" said Mr. Fogo on the morning after Miss Limpenny's party.</p> + +<p>"Aye, aye, sir!" Caleb paused in his carpentering to look up.</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>"No, thank you, Caleb. I shall go along the hills on this side of the river."</p> + +<p>"You'd best let me come, sir, or you'll be wool-gatherin' and wand'rin' about till +goodness knows what time o' night."</p> + +<p>"I shall be back by four o'clock."</p> + +<p>"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!"</p> + +<p>With this he walked back to the house, but more than once halted on his way to +ponder and shake his head ominously.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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 +<i>detour</i> 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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"<i>Cl'k—Whir-r-r-r-roo-oo-oo!</i>"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Hi!" said the tramp, "where be you a-comin' to?"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon," he mildly apologised, "but a bull in the next field—"</p> + +<p>"That's no cause for selectin' a gentl'm'n's stomach to tumble 'pon, growled the +tramp.</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon, I'm sure," repeated Mr. Fogo; "you may be sure that had time +for selection been allowed me—"</p> + +<p>"Look 'ere," said the tramp with sudden ferocity, "will you fight?"</p> + + +<br> +<br> +<center> +<img src="images/FIG9.JPG" +alt="Look 'ere,' said the tramp . . . 'will you fight?"><br> +<span class="caption">"Look 'ere," said the tramp … +"will you fight?"</span> +</center> +<br> +<br> + + +<p>Mr. Fogo retreated a step.</p> + +<p>"Really—"</p> + +<p>"Come, look sharp! You won't? Then I demands 'arf-a-crown."</p> + +<p>With this the ruffian began to tuck up his ragged cuffs, and was grimly advancing. +Mr. Fogo leapt back another pace.</p> + +<p>"<i>Cl'k—Whir-r-r-r-roo-oo-oo!</i>"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>At last he struck into a narrow lane, just as the sun sank. He halted for a moment +to consider his direction.</p> + +<p>"Pat—pat—pat."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Little girl, can you tell me the way to Kit's House?"</p> + +<p>There was no answer. Mr. Fogo peered more closely.</p> + +<p>"Little girl, can you tell me the way to Kit's House?"</p> + +<p>Still there was no answer.</p> + +<p>"Little girl—"</p> + +<p>"<i>Cl'k—whir-r-r-r-roo-oo </i>!"</p> + +<p>The effect of the alarum was instantaneous.</p> + +<p>"Boo-hoo!" yelled the little girl, and broke into a paroxysm of weeping.</p> + +<p>"Little girl—"</p> + +<p>"Boo-hoo! Take me home. I want mammy!"</p> + + +<br> +<br> +<center> +<img src="images/FIG10.JPG" +alt="Boo-hoo! I want mammy!"><br> +<span class="caption">"Boo-hoo! I want mammy!"</span> +</center> +<br> +<br> + + +<p>"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—</p> + +<p>"I want mammy! Take me home!"</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>But it was useless. The screams merely increased in volume. Mr. Fogo, leaning +against the hedge, mopped his brow and looked helplessly around.</p> + +<p>"What on earth is to be done?"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"There now, that's better. Did the big strange gentleman try to frighten her? Poor +little maid!"</p> + +<p>"I assure you," said Mr. Fogo, "I tried to do nothing of the kind."</p> + +<p>Tamsin paid no attention.</p> + +<p>"There now, we're as good as gold again, and can run along home. Give me a kiss +first, that's a dear."</p> + +<p>The little maid, still sobbing fitfully, gave the kiss, picked up her satchel, and +toddled off, leaving Tamsin and Mr. Fogo face to face.</p> + +<p>"Why did you frighten her?" the girl asked severely. There was an angry flush on +her cheek.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"And you," she said very slowly, when he had finished, "think you are able to +despise womankind."</p> + +<p>It was Mr. Fogo's turn to grow red.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Did you do that?"</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>"I think you are treating me very hardly."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>There was a pause as they walked along together.</p> + +<p>"The board shall come down," said he; "and now may I carry your basket?"</p> + +<p>"My basket? Do you think I'd trust a man to carry eggs?" She laughed, but with a +trace of forgiveness.</p> + +<p>He did not answer, but seemed to have fallen into a fit of troubled contemplation. +They walked on in silence.</p> + +<p>Presently she halted.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>Caleb met him at the door.</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Fogo told his story.</p> + +<p>"H'm!" said Caleb, "an' Tamsin saw 'ee home?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; and by the way, Caleb, you may as well take down that notice to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"H'm!" muttered Caleb again. "You're quite sure thicky coddysel won't do?"</p> + +<p>"Quite."</p> + +<p>"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—</p> + +<p>"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' +<i>lackin'</i> 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 <i>sit out</i> 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 <i>he's</i> 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."</p> + +<p>"Eh?" Mr. Fogo roused himself from his abstraction. "Yes, certainly, I should +like to hear it."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + + +<br> +<br> +<p><a name="11"></a> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XI.</h3> +<h3>OF A WESLEYAN MINISTER THAT WOULD IMPROVE UPON NATURE, +AND THEREBY TRAINED A ROOK TO GOOD PRINCIPLES.</h3> +<br> + + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"I see," said Mr. Fogo.</p> + +<p>"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 +<a name="footnotetag11-1"></a><a href="#footnote11-1">[1]</a> +as you can, an' I'll gie drappence for ivery seam more'n twenty.'</p> + +<p>"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—</p> + +<p>"' You'm a nation clever boy, you be, an' I doan't gridge 'ee the money. But now +I sees what you <i>can</i> 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.'</p> + +<p>"'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—"</p> + + +<blockquote><blockquote> + <p class="noindent">'Whativer, Lord, us lends to Thee<br> + Repaid a thousan'fold'll be,<br> + Then gladly will us gie to Thee.'</p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + + +<p>"An' I reckon that was 'bout the size o't. Aw, he was an anointed ould rascal.</p> + +<p>"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'—"</p> + +<p>"Like Polyphemus," put in Mr. Fogo.</p> + +<p>"Polly which?"</p> + +<p>"Never mind."</p> + +<p>"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—'"</p> + +<p>"Ocular, Caleb."</p> + +<p>"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 <i>han't</i> but wan eye. An' that's ocular demonstrashun.'</p> + +<p>"But, as I was sayin', wan eye <i>es</i> 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 <i>did</i> luk plaguey like th' evil eye, an' that there's no +denyin'.</p> + +<p>"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 +<a name="footnotetag11-2"></a><a href="#footnote11-2">[2]</a> +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' <a name="footnotetag11-3"></a><a href="#footnote11-3">[3]</a> +in a brace o' shakes an' 'way to go for Coombe beach, an' playin' +hidey-peep in their clane pinnyfores 'mong the rocks.</p> + +<p>"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:</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Who was Nicholas Kemp?" inquired Mr. Fogo.</p> + +<p>"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—"</p> + +<p>"Malignant growths?"</p> + +<p>"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, +<a name="footnotetag11-4"></a><a href="#footnote11-4">[4]</a> +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.</p> + +<p>"'Like onto the fishpools in Heshbon!' says he; an' wi' that he bounses into the +shop.</p> + +<p>"'How much for them eyes?' he axes.</p> + +<p>"'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.</p> + +<p>"'Wan'll do for me,' says Lawyer Mennear.</p> + +<p>"'They be two pund-ten apiece,' says the whipper-snapper, 'an' ten shillin' for +fixin'.'</p> + +<p>"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.'</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"'An' now,' says the whipper-snapper, 'which'll 'ee ha'? Grey's the colour, I +reckons, ef you wants a match.'</p> + +<p>"'Drat the colour!' says ould Mennear, 'I've a-paid my price, an' I'll ha' the +biggest, ef et be bassomy-red.' +<a name="footnotetag11-5"></a><a href="#footnote11-5">[5]</a></p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"I never heard of that lady," said Mr. Fogo.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"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 +<a name="footnotetag11-6"></a><a href="#footnote11-6">[6]</a> +kind o' look, 'as ef,' said Deacon Hoskins, 'he was +blinchin' <a name="footnotetag11-7"></a><a href="#footnote11-7">[7]</a> +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 <i>dead</i> 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.</p> + +<p>"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 <i>been there</i>. 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.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"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 +<a name="footnotetag11-8"></a><a href="#footnote11-8">[8]</a> +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!"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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.'</p> + +<p>"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—</p> + +<p>"'Brother Hoskins, I'll trouble you to kindly pass up that eye.'</p> + +<p>"Deacon Hoskins stared a bit, but was too short o' sight to see what the matter +was.</p> + +<p>"'Eh?' says he.</p> + +<p>"'Hand up that eye, ef you plaise.'</p> + +<p>"'What eye?' says the Deacon.</p> + +<p>"Th' ould Mennear stamped and seemed fit to swear.</p> + +<p>"'Why, <i>my</i> 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.</p> + +<p>"'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.'</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"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, +<a name="footnotetag11-9"></a><a href="#footnote11-9">[9]</a> +an' there et bided.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"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'?</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"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'.</p> + +<p>"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 <i>two score an' dree wimmen</i>—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."</p> + +<p>"Ah!" was Mr. Fogo's only comment.</p> + +<p>"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'.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"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.'</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"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 <i>leaked</i>.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"Aw, sir, to see the change as comed over that bird! The forthiness +<a name="footnotetag11-10"></a><a href="#footnote11-10">[10]</a> +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.</p> + +<p>"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. +<a name="footnotetag11-11"></a><a href="#footnote11-11">[11]</a> +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.</p> + +<p>"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, <a name="footnotetag11-12"></a><a href="#footnote11-12">[12]</a> +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.</p> + +<p>"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 <i>must</i>. 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 +<a name="footnotetag11-13"></a><a href="#footnote11-13">[13]</a> +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.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"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 <i>clinch</i> 'n, an' the look o' righteousness melted off hes face +like snow in an oven. For that bird had <i>gifts</i>, 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'.</p> + +<p>"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 <i>feel</i> the oaths. An' there he sot +an' cussed, an' cussed an' sot, an' let the hatefulness run out like watter from a +pump.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"'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?"</p> + +<p>"I couldn't pretend to guess," said Mr. Fogo.</p> + +<p>"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 <i>do</i> knaw this much—et warn't fit for a woman to list'n to.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p> </p> + +<p>There was silence for a few moments as Caleb finished his story and lit another +pipe. Finally Mr. Fogo roused him to ask—</p> + +<p>"What became of your master, Caleb?"</p> + +<p>"Dead, sir—dead," answered Caleb, staring into the embers of the fire. "He lived +to a powerful age, tho' albeit a bit totelin' +<a name="footnotetag11-14"></a><a href="#footnote11-14">[14]</a> +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—"</p> + +<p>"A what?"</p> + +<p>"Centurion, sir; otherwise a hundred years old. But he went round land +<a name="footnotetag11-15"></a><a href="#footnote11-15">[15]</a> +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."</p> + +<p>"Ah!" said Mr. Fogo, pensively, "she was a woman, was she not?"</p> + +<p>"To be sure, sir; what elst?—a female woman, an' so baptised."</p> + +<p>There was a moment's silence; then Caleb resumed—</p> + +<p>"But contrari-wise, sir, the army cap'n was a man."</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>"Beggin' your pard'n, sir, an' makin' so free as to guess, but were it a woman by +any chance?"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + + +<blockquote class="footnote"> + <p class="noindent"><a name="footnote11-1"></a> + [1] A cart-load. + <a href="#footnotetag11-1">(return)</a><br> + + <a name="footnote11-2"></a> + [2] Dust. + <a href="#footnotetag11-2">(return)</a><br> + + <a name="footnote11-3"></a> + [3] Playing truant. + <a href="#footnotetag11-3">(return)</a><br> + + <a name="footnote11-4"></a> + [4] Sloe. + <a href="#footnotetag11-4">(return)</a><br> + + <a name="footnote11-5"></a> + [5] Heather-coloured. + <a href="#footnotetag11-5">(return)</a><br> + + <a name="footnote11-6"></a> + [6] Two-faced. Qy. from Janus? + <a href="#footnotetag11-6">(return)</a><br> + + <a name="footnote11-7"></a> + [7] Prying, looking about. + <a href="#footnotetag11-7">(return)</a><br> + + <a name="footnote11-8"></a> + [8] Nonsense. + <a href="#footnotetag11-8">(return)</a><br> + + <a name="footnote11-9"></a> + [9] Crockery. Drinking in Troy is euphemistically called "emptyin' + cloam." + <a href="#footnotetag11-9">(return)</a><br> + + <a name="footnote11-10"></a> + [10] Boldness, forwardness. + <a href="#footnotetag11-10">(return)</a><br> + + <a name="footnote11-11"></a> + [11] A fairy. + <a href="#footnotetag11-11">(return)</a><br> + + <a name="footnote11-12"></a> + [12] Farm-yard. + <a href="#footnotetag11-12">(return)</a><br> + + <a name="footnote11-13"></a> + [13] Noise, tumult. + <a href="#footnotetag11-13">(return)</a><br> + + <a name="footnote11-14"></a> + [14] Demented, imbecile. + <a href="#footnotetag11-14">(return)</a><br> + + <a name="footnote11-15"></a> + [15] Died. + <a href="#footnotetag11-15">(return)</a><br> +</blockquote> + + +<br> +<br> +<p><a name="12"></a> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XII.</h3> +<h3>OF DETERIORATION; AND A WHEELBARROW<br> +THAT CONTAINED UNEXPECTED THINGS.</h3> +<br> + + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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—</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>"There are feelings,"—began the Admiral.</p> + +<p>"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—"</p> + +<p>I am sorry to say that the Admiral, instead of defending Mrs. Buzza, began to +exculpate Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys.</p> + +<p>"But your wife is so charming, so—"</p> + +<p>"Of course, my dear sir; so is Mrs. Buzza."</p> + +<p>"She was termed the 'Belle of Portsmouth' at the Ball where I proposed to her," +remarked the Admiral, with some complacency.</p> + +<p>"To be sure; trust a sailor to catch the pretty girls—eh?"</p> + +<p>The Admiral chuckled feebly.</p> + +<p>"But these women—"</p> + +<p>"Ah! yes; these women—"</p> + +<p>"Bachelor life was pleasant—eh, Admiral?"</p> + +<p>"Ah!"</p> + +<p>The two men looked at each other. A smile spread over either countenance. I +regret to say the Admiral winked, and then chuckled again.</p> + +<p>"Admiral, you must get up."</p> + +<p>The Admiral stared interrogatively; his visitor pursued, with some +inconsequence—"By the way, is there a club here?"</p> + +<p>"There's the 'Jolly Trojans' down at the 'Man-o'-War'; they meet on Tuesdays, +Thursdays, and—"</p> + +<p>"Low lot, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"Well, yes," admitted the Admiral; "a certain amount of good fellowship prevails, +I understand; but low, of course—distinctly low."</p> + +<p>The Honourable Frederic tapped his boot reflectively with his malacca.</p> + +<p>"Admiral," he said at last, "you ought to found a Club here."</p> + +<p>"Bless my heart! I never thought of it."</p> + +<p>"It is your duty."</p> + +<p>"You think so?"</p> + +<p>"Sure of it."</p> + +<p>"I will get up," said the Admiral decisively. He started out of bed, and looked +around for his clothes.</p> + +<p>"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 <i>reunions</i>—select, of course—"</p> + +<p>"Of course. Do you happen to be sitting on my trousers?"</p> + +<p>"Eh? No, I believe—no. Let me see—limited loo and a modest pool of an evening. +Hullo! what's the matter?"</p> + +<p>The Admiral had rushed to the door.</p> + +<p>"Emily!" he bawled down the stairs.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>But what was being discussed below when the Admiral's voice disturbed his wife? +Alas! you shall hear.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"You don't say so!"</p> + +<p>"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—"</p> + +<p>"My dear, I should faint."</p> + +<p>"Oh, poor soul! Reflect! How pretty the domestic virtues are, but how +impossible! Besides, how unfashionable!"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Buzza reflected.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"I will."</p> + +<p>"Sit down again. It will do him no harm to wait."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Buzza obeyed, still trembling.</p> + +<p>It was at this moment that the Honourable Frederic re-entered the room, and +looked around with a slow smile.</p> + + +<p>"Nellie," he observed, when they were outside the house, "you're a vastly clever +woman, my love."</p> + +<p>"How's the Admiral?" was the reply.</p> + +<p>"He nibbles, my angel; he bites."</p> + +<p>"I heard him barkin'. An' how long will Brady be givin' us?"</p> + +<p>"Two months, my treasure."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys reflected for a moment, and then made the following +extraordinary reply—</p> + +<p>"Be aisy, me dear. In six weeks I'll be ready to elope from yez."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"No, we can't have him," he was roundly declaring; "the Club must be select, or it +is useless to discuss it further."</p> + +<p>"Must draw the line somewhere," murmured the Honourable Frederic.</p> + +<p>"Quite so; at this rate we shall be admitting all the 'Jolly Trojans.'"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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—"</p> + +<p>"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'—"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Go away, boy!" said Admiral Buzza severely.</p> + +<p>The boy sobbed loudly, but made no sign of moving.</p> + +<p>"Go away, I tell you!"</p> + +<p>"'Tes for you, sir."</p> + +<p>"For me? What does the boy mean?"</p> + +<p>"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—"</p> + +<p>"The child's daft!" roared the Admiral. "D–––– +the boy! what has Billy Higgs to do with me?"</p> + +<p>Fig11.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"What is it?"</p> + +<p>"Cake, sir."</p> + +<p>"Cake!"</p> + +<p>"Iss, sir—cake."</p> + +<p>The youth stifled a sob, and removed the white cover from the wheelbarrow.</p> + +<p>"Bless my soul!" gasped the Admiral, "there must be some mistake."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + + +<br> +<br> +<center> +<img src="images/FIG11.JPG" +alt="'It certainly seems to be cake,' observed the +Honourable Frederic."><br> +<span class="caption">"It certainly seems to be cake," observed +the Honourable Frederic.</span> +</center> +<br> +<br> + + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Bless my soul!" repeated the Admiral, "but I never ordered this."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Sam! Do you mean to tell me that Sam—that my son—ordered <i>this?</i> Upon my +word, of all—"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Gallons! What the devil is the boy talking bout?"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>Mr. Goodwyn-Sandys turned aside to conceal a smile. Lawyer Pellow rubbed his +chin. The Admiral stamped.</p> + +<p>"Take it away!"</p> + +<p>"Where be I to take it to, plaise, sir?"</p> + +<p>"Take it away—anywhere; take it to the devil!"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>The new-comer, who was indeed our friend Mr. Fogo, now advanced towards the +Admiral with a bow.</p> + +<p>"Admiral Buzza, I believe?"</p> + +<p>The Admiral turned and faced the speaker; his jaw fell like a signal flag; but he +drew himself up with fine self-repression.</p> + +<p>"Sir, I am Admiral Buzza."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>Here Mr. Fogo withdrew the wrapper and with a pleasant smile held out—a cocked +hat.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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—"</p> + +<p>"My name is Goodwyn-Sandys, sir, at your—"</p> + +<p>"What!"</p> + +<p>Mr. Fogo dropped the cocked hat and sat down suddenly among the cakes.</p> + +<p>"Are you," he gasped—"are you Mr. Goodwyn-Sandys—the Honourable Frederic +Augustus Hythe Good—? Heavens!"</p> + +<p>"No, sir," said the Honourable Frederic, who had grown a thought pale. "Good +<i>wyn</i>, sir—Goodwyn-Sandys. What then?"</p> + +<p>"I never saw your face before," murmured Mr. Fogo faintly.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>And Mr. Goodwyn-Sandys ruffled away, followed by his two slightly puzzled +companions.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"So <i>that</i>," he said slowly, "is the man she married."</p> + +<p>"Iss, sir."</p> + +<p>Mr. Fogo started, turned round on the barrow, and beheld the urchin from the +"Man-o'-War."</p> + +<p>"Little boy," he said sternly, "your conduct is unworthy of a—I mean, what are you +doing here?"</p> + +<p>"You've a-been an' squashed a cake," said the boy.</p> + +<p>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—</p> + +<p>"So <i>that</i>—is the man—she married."</p> + +<p> </p> + +<p>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 +<i>Niobe</i>, and swept the horizon with a persistence that made his fellow-members +stare.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>One morning, for instance, Sam Buzza lounged into the reading-room and +observed—</p> + +<p>"I say, have you seen that American barque that came in last night— the +<i>Maritana?</i>"</p> + +<p>"What name?" asked Mr. Goodwyn-Sandys, looking up suddenly.</p> + +<p>"The <i>Maritana</i>, or the <i>Mariana</i>, or <i>Mary Ann</i>, or something of the—Hullo! +what's wrong?"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>We had always been select in Troy; but then, In the old days, <i>all</i> 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 <i>Cumeelfo</i> to exclude the Jack of Oaks, and sent Mr. +Simpson home to his gin and water.</p> + +<p>The change was discussed with some asperity in the bar-parlour of the +"Man-o'-War."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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'."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"I niver knawed good to come o' titled gentry yet," said Bill.</p> + +<p>"You doan't say that?" exclaimed Rekkub, who was an admirer of Bill's Radical +views.</p> + +<p>"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'."</p> + + +<br> +<br> +<p><a name="13"></a> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XIII.</h3> +<h3>THE SIGNIFICANCE OF POMEROY'S CAT; AND HOW THE MEN AND +WOMEN OF TROY ENSUED AFTER PLEASURE IN BOATS.</h3> +<br> + + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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? +<i>Purpureus, late qui splendeat</i>—h'm, h'm— <i>adsuitur pannus</i>. I mean, in the seat +of your—"</p> + +<p>"Conscience, sir," said Caleb abruptly. "Some ties a bit o' string round the finger +to help the mem'ry. I does et this way."</p> + +<p>"Well, well, I should have thought it more apt to assist the memory of others. +Still, of course, you know best."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>In Troy, summer was leading on a train of events not to be classed among periodic +phenomena. It stands on record, for instance—</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>That Mrs. Simpson discovered her great uncle to have been a baronet on this earth.</p> + +<p>That Mrs. Payne had prefixed "Ellicome" to her surname, and spoke of "<i>the</i> +Ellicome-Paynes, you know."</p> + +<p>That Mr. Moggridge had been heard to speak of Sam Buzza as a "low fellow."</p> + +<p>That Sam had retorted by terming the poet a "conceited ass."</p> + +<p>And—</p> + +<p>That Admiral Buzza intended a Picnic.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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 <i>cumeelfo</i> 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.</p> + +<p>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—</p> + +<p>"Did you ever see anything more lovely?"</p> + +<p>To which the Admiral as religiously would reply—</p> + +<p>"Really, I never did."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Hurried in mind, sir, like Pomeroy's cat," suggested he sympathetically.</p> + +<p>"I have no acquaintance with the animal you mention," said his master.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"A hen?"</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"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.'"</p> + +<p>"The millennium," corrected Mr. Fogo, who was much interested.</p> + +<p>"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 <i>passed</i>."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Ef I mou't make free to shake 'ee agen—"</p> + +<p>"I should prefer any other cure."</p> + +<p>"Very well, sir. I <i>have</i> 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'."</p> + +<p>"A pennyworth of sea?"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"You advise me to take a row?"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Geraldine!"</p> + +<p>"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!"</p> + +<p>"My dear Mrs.—"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Bless my soul!" murmured Mr. Fogo, cowering more closely. "This country +teems with extraordinary people!"</p> + +<p>He held his breath as the deeper voice answered—</p> + +<p>"Had I thought—"</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>Dead silence followed this question. After some seconds the woman's voice +resumed—</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>"Geraldine!"</p> + +<p>"Do you still wish that question answered? I will do you that favour also: Listen: +for the life of me—I don't know."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"In heaven's name, Geraldine, don't mock me!"</p> + +<p>"But it is true. How <i>should</i> 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—"</p> + +<p>"Geraldine, you are torturing me."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Name it."</p> + +<p>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—</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"It is a judgment on me!" muttered the poor man—"a judgment! They are all alike."</p> + +<p>Curiously enough, his next reflection appeared to contradict this view of the sex.</p> + +<p>"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—"</p> + +<p>Mr. Fogo stared very hard at the water for some seconds.</p> + +<p>"And Tamsin," he repeated slowly. "Hullo! my feet seem to be in the water—and, +bless my soul! what has become of the boat?"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + + +<br> +<br> +<p><a name="14"></a> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XIV.</h3> +<h3>OF A LADY OF SENSIBILITY THAT, BEING AWKWARDLY PLACED, +MIGHT EASILY HAVE SET MATTERS RIGHT, BUT DID NOT: WITH +MUCH BESIDE.</h3> +<br> + + +<p>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 +<i>Household Packet</i>. 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?"</p> + +<p>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":—</p> + + +<blockquote><blockquote> + <p class="noindent">"The eye roams widely o'er glad Nature's face,<br> + <span class="ind2">To mark each varied and delightful scene;</span><br> + The simple and magnificent we trace,<br> + <span class="ind2">While loveliness and brightness intervene;</span><br> + Oh! everywhere is something found to—"</p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>Inexorable fate, whose compulsion directed that gaze! If raiment apart from its +wearer be unseemly, how much more—</p> + +<p>About thirty yards from her, wading down the stream, and tugging the painter of +his recovered boat, advanced Mr. Fogo.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>Miss Limpenny's emotion found vent in a squeal.</p> + +<p>Mr. Fogo, heard, halted, and gazed blankly around.</p> + +<p>"How singular!" he murmured. "I could have sworn I heard a cry."</p> + +<p>He made another step. The sound was repeated, more shrilly.</p> + +<p>"Again! And, dear me, it sounds human—as of some fellow-creature in distress."</p> + +<p>"Go away! Go away at once!"</p> + +<p>"Eh? Bless my soul, what can it be?" Mr. Fogo stared in the direction whence the +voice proceeded, but of course without seeing anything.</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon?" he observed mildly.</p> + +<p>"Go away!"</p> + +<p>"If you will allow me—" he began, courteously addressing vacancy.</p> + +<p>"Monster!"</p> + +<p>The awful truth began to dawn upon him, and was followed by a hasty impulse to +dive.</p> + +<p>"If," he stammered, "I am right in supposing myself to address a lady—"</p> + +<p>"Don't talk to me, but go away."</p> + +<p>"I was about to ask permission to resume my spectacles, which I have +unfortunately laid aside."</p> + +<p>"No, no. That would be worse. Oh! go away at once."</p> + +<p>"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—"</p> + +<p>"Oh! I shall faint."</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"If I might make a suggestion, madam—"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Believe me, my dear madam—"</p> + +<p>"I am not your dear madam."</p> + +<p>"I have no other intention than to get out of this."</p> + +<p>"Ah! he confesses it."</p> + +<p>"I assure you—"</p> + +<p>"Will no one protect me?" wailed the lady, wringing her hands and sobbing anew. +But help was near, though from an unexpected quarter.</p> + + +<br> +<br> +<center> +<img src="images/FIG12.JPG" +alt="'Will no one protect me?' wailed the lady , , ,"><br> +<span class="caption">"Will no one protect me?" wailed the lady…</span> +</center> +<br> +<br> + + +<p>"Hulloa!" cried a voice on the bank above, "what be all this?"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Mercy 'pon us!" exclaimed Peter, seeing only the lady, and not at first the cause +of her distress, "'tes Miss Limpenny."</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm jiggered!" ejaculated Paul, "so 'tes."</p> + +<p>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 <i>Cymbeline</i> +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.</p> + +<p>"Did 'ee iver hear tell o' what's best to be done when a leddy's took like this?" he +asked his brother.</p> + +<p>"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'?"</p> + +<p>"Why, no."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"'Tes a long step round to fetch that book," sighed Peter.</p> + +<p>"An' terrable long words i' th' index when you've got et. Stop, now: es et +faintin', do 'ee think?"</p> + +<p>"Well," answered Paul thoughtfully, "et <i>mou't</i> be faintin'."</p> + +<p>"'Cos, ef so, the best way es to hold the sufferer upsi-down an' dash cold water +over the face."</p> + +<p>"That wud be takin' too much of a liberty, wudn' et, Paul?"</p> + +<p>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—</p> + +<p>"Is he gone?" she asked in a weak whisper.</p> + +<p>"Gone? Who, ma'am?"</p> + +<p>"The monster."</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"Well, this beats cock-fightin'!"</p> + +<p>"Would you mind taking that lady away?" pleaded Mr. Fogo, through his +chattering teeth; "I am very cold indeed, and wish to dress."</p> + +<p>"Oh! that voice again," sobbed Miss Limpenny; "please tell him to go away."</p> + +<p>Being nonplussed by these two appeals, Peter addressed his reply to his brother.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Ef you plaise, sir," shouted Peter, "Paul an' me wants to know whether you be +a-doin' et by way o' bein' fash'nubble?"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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—</p> + +<p>"You'll excuse me, ma'am, but was you present by any chance when—?"</p> + +<p>"Heaven forbid!" she cried, and put her hands before her face.</p> + +<p>"Then, beggin' your pard'n, but how did you come here?"</p> + +<p>"I was wandering on the bank—and lost in thought—and came upon these—these +articles. And then—oh! I cannot, I cannot."</p> + +<p>"Furder question es," pursued Peter, with an interrogative glance at his brother, +who nodded, "why not ha' gone away?"</p> + +<p>"Dear me!" exclaimed Miss Limpenny, "I never thought of it!"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p> </p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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—</p> + +<p>"Shenachrum."</p> + +<p>"Or Samson," said Peter.</p> + +<p>"I think poorly o' Samson."</p> + +<p>"Wi' hes hair on?"</p> + +<p>"Wi' or wi'out, I don't lay no store by Samson."</p> + +<p>"Very well, then—Shenachrum."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>At the gate above the low cliff, her frock of pink print distinct against the hazels, +stood Tamsin Dearlove, and looked up the river.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Tamsin, my dear, es the cloth laid?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Peter, and the kettle ready to boil."</p> + +<p>"We was thinkin' as Shenachrum would be suitin' Mr. Fogo better. He've met wi' +an accident."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"So that is Shenachrum?" he said at last, to break the silence.</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"And what, or who, is Samson?"</p> + +<p>"Samson is brandy and cider and sugar."</p> + +<p>"With his hair on?"</p> + +<p>She laughed.</p> + +<p>"That means more brandy. Samson was double as strong, you know, with his hair +on."</p> + +<p>"I see."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"She is quite beautiful, but—"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>There was a second's pause.</p> + +<p>"<i>You</i> were saying—"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"I am very sorry," he stammered; "I never meant you to hear."</p> + +<p>"You were talking of—?"</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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 <i>low</i>, 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!"</p> + +<p>She stamped her foot in passion as two angry tears sparkled in her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Why, Tamsin!" cried Paul's voice at the door, "the Shenachrum not ready yet? I +niver knawed 'ee so long afore."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"'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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"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—"</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"No kindness at all," muttered Peter. His face fell, and he, too, looked at the girl.</p> + +<p>Finding their eyes upon her, she was compelled to speak.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Why, Tamsin, I niver knawed 'ee i' this mood afore," stammered Paul.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Good-night," he said.</p> + +<p>"Good-night, sir."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>As the door closed upon him, Peter sank into the stiff-backed chair beside the +hearth with a puzzled sigh.</p> + +<p>"Why, Tamsin," he said, as he slowly drew out his pipe and filled it, "what ailed +'ee, girl, to behave like that?"</p> + +<p>Looking up, he saw a tear, and then a second, drop brightly on the hearth-stone.</p> + +<p>"Little maid!"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>The Twin set down his pipe upon his knee, and stared into the fire.</p> + +<p>"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'—"</p> + +<p>"No, no."</p> + +<p>"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—"</p> + +<p>"No, no. Let me sit here beside you, and I shall be better presently."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"All right now?" he asked, after several minutes had passed with no sound but the +ticking of the clock.</p> + +<p>"All right beside you, brother. It is always all right beside you."</p> + + +<br> +<br> +<p><a name="15"></a> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XV.</h3> +<h3>HOW A LADY AND A YOUTH, BEING SEPARATED FROM THEIR +COMPANY, VISITED A SHIP THAT HELD NOTHING BUT WATER.</h3> +<br> + + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Ahoy, there!" It was Caleb's voice.</p> + +<p>"Ahoy, Caleb!" shouted Paul in answer; "anything wrong?"</p> + +<p>"Have 'ee seen maaster?"</p> + +<p>"Iss, an' got un safe an' sound."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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—</p> + +<p>"Ef you plaise, sir, I wants to gie warnin'."</p> + +<p>"Give warning?"</p> + +<p>"Iss, sir; notiss to go." And Caleb stared fiercely at his master.</p> + +<p>"But, my dear Caleb, you surely don't mean—?"</p> + +<p>"I do, tho'."</p> + +<p>"Are you dissatisfied with the place or the wages?"</p> + +<p>"That's et, sir—the wages."</p> + +<p>"If they are too low—"</p> + +<p>"They bain't; they be a darned sight too high."</p> + +<p>Mr. Fogo leant back in his chair.</p> + +<p>"Too high!" he gasped.</p> + +<p>"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-<i>fore</i>, +sir, seein' I can't offer to share wages wi' the Twins, much less wi' Tamsin, I +wants to go."</p> + +<p>Caleb knocked the ashes out of his pipe, and, rising, stared at his master for some +seconds and with much determination.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>At length, and not until they had passed the Dearloves' cottage, she asked—</p> + +<p>"Why were you late?"</p> + +<p>"Was I missed?"</p> + +<p>"Of course. You younger men of Troy seem strangely blind to your duties—and +your chances."</p> + +<p>The last three words came as if by after-thought; Sam looked up quickly.</p> + +<p>"Chances? You said 'chances,' I believe?"</p> + +<p>"I did. Was there not Miss Saunders, for instance?"</p> + +<p>Sam's lip curled.</p> + +<p>"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'?"</p> + +<p>"She did."</p> + +<p>"She always does; I have never picnicked with Miss Saunders but something inside +her whispered 'Autumn'!"</p> + +<p>"A small bore," suggested Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys, "that never misses fire."</p> + +<p>Sam tittered and resumed—</p> + +<p>"If it comes to duties, your husband sets the example; he hasn't moved from the +club window to-day."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" she exclaimed shortly, "I never asked you to imitate my husband."</p> + +<p>Sam ceased rowing and looked up; he was familiar with the tone, but had never +heard it so emphasised before.</p> + +<p>"Look here," he said; "something's wrong, that's plain. It's a rude question, +but—does he neglect you?"</p> + +<p>She laughed with some bitterness, and perhaps with a touch of self-contempt.</p> + +<p>"You are right; it is a rude question: but—he does not."</p> + +<p>There was a moment's silence, and then she added—</p> + +<p>"So it's useless, is it not, to wish that he would?"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"You mean—?"</p> + +<p>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—</p> + +<p>"Did you ever see anything more lovely?"</p> + +<p>And the Admiral would reply—</p> + +<p>"Really, I never did."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"We are leaving the others a long way behind," she said irresolutely.</p> + +<p>"Do you wish to wait for them?"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>Sam essayed a gallant speech, but she paid no heed to it.</p> + +<p>"What a charming creek that is, beyond the house! Let us row up there and wait +for the others."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Yonder lies the lepers' burial-ground," said Sam, and pointed.</p> + +<p>"I have heard of them" (she shivered); "and that?"</p> + +<p>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, "<i>The Seven Sisters</i> 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.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys looked towards the wreck with curious interest.</p> + +<p>"I should like to examine it more closely," she said.</p> + +<p>For answer Sam pulled round the schooner, and let the boat drift under her +overhanging side.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"I want to see the captain's cabin," she explained.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Does the water ever come up here?" she asked.</p> + +<p>Sam lit another match.</p> + +<p>"No," he said, stooping and examining the floor.</p> + +<p>"You are quite sure?"</p> + +<p>Her tone was so eager that he looked up.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I am quite sure; but why do you ask?"</p> + +<p>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—</p> + +<p>"This is just the place."</p> + +<p>"For what?"</p> + +<p>"For—for an Irish jig," she laughed with sudden merriment. "Come, try a step +upon these old timbers."</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"Was I?" She broke out suddenly into elfish song—</p> + + +<blockquote><blockquote> + <p class="noindent">"'Och! Pathrick O'Hea, but I'm sad, Bedad!<br> + Och! darlint, 'tis bad to be sad.'<br> + <span class="ind2">'Hwat's this?' says he.</span><br> + <span class="ind2">'Why, a kiss,' says she.</span><br> + <span class="ind2">''Tis a cure,' says he.</span><br> + <span class="ind2">'An' that's sure,' says she.</span><br> + 'Och! Pat, you're a sinsible lad, Bedad!<br> + Troth, Pat, you're a joole uv a lad!'"</p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + + +<p>She broke off suddenly and shivered.</p> + +<p>"Come, let us go; this place suffocates me."</p> + +<p>She turned and ran up the crazy ladder. At the top she turned and peered down +upon the dumbfounded Sam.</p> + +<p>"Nobody comes here, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"I should think not."</p> + +<p>"I mean, the owner never comes to—"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>She leant her hands on the taffrail, and looked over the stern.</p> + +<p>"Hark! There are the other boats. Don't you hear the voices? They have passed us +by, and we must make haste after them."</p> + +<p>She turned upon him with a smile. Without well knowing what he did he laid his +hand softly on her arm.</p> + +<p>"Stop, I want a word before you go."</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>Her large eyes, gleaming on him through the dusk, compelled and yet frightened +him. He trembled and stammered vaguely—</p> + +<p>"You said just now—you hinted, I mean—that you were unhappy with Mr.—with +your husband. Is that so?"</p> + +<p>It was the second time she had been asked the question to-day. A faint smile +crossed her face.</p> + +<p>"Well?" she said again.</p> + +<p>"I mean," he answered with a nervous laugh, "I don't like to see it— and—I meant, +if I could help you—"</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"Well," he stammered, "he's a good fellow, really, is your husband— he's been +very good to me and all that—"</p> + +<p>"Ah!" she exclaimed, turning away, "I thought so. Come, we are wasting time."</p> + +<p>"Stop!" cried Sam.</p> + +<p>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—</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"I'm sick to death of all this, me dear—of 'the Cause,' of Brady, of these people, of +meself."</p> + +<p>Her face wore a grey look that made her seem a full ten years older.</p> + +<p>"Won't you include me in the list, my love?" asked her husband amiably.</p> + +<p>"I would," she replied, "only I've already said as much twice this very afternoon."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys took a leisurely survey of the room while her husband +awaited information.</p> + +<p>"The pote is hooked," she said at last, "an' so's Master Sam."</p> + +<p>"The poet is our first card," replied her husband, searching his pocket and +producing a letter. "The <i>Maryland</i> 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."</p> + +<p>"Better than well, me dear. I've found a <i>place</i>—an illigant hidin' in an owld +schooner up the river."</p> + +<p>"Safe?"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"He's a bad ass, is Moggridge," assented the Honourable Frederic. "Come, Nellie, +we've a day's work before us, remember."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + + +<br> +<br> +<center> +<img src="images/FIG13.JPG" +alt="Winked . . . in a most plebeian way."><br> +<span class="caption">Winked … in a most plebeian way.</span> +</center> +<br> +<br> + + +<br> +<br> +<p><a name="16"></a> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XVI.</h3> +<h3>OF STRATAGEMS AND SPOILS; AND THAT THE NOMINALISTS ERR +WHO HOLD A THING TO BE WHAT IT IS CALLED.</h3> +<br> + + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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 <i>Love's Dilemma: a Comedy</i>, 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."</p> + +<p>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—</p> + + +<blockquote><blockquote> + <p class="ind2">A HYMN OF LOVE.</p> + + <p class="noindent">"Toiling lover, loose your pack,<br> + <span class="ind2">All your sighs and tears unbind;</span><br> + Care's a ware may break a back,<br> + <span class="ind2">May not bend a maiden's mind.</span><br> + <br> + "Loose, and follow to a land<br> + <span class="ind2">Where the tyrant's only fee</span><br> + Is the kissing of a hand<br> + <span class="ind2">And the bending of a knee.</span><br> + <br> + "In that State a man shall need<br> + <span class="ind2">Neither priest nor lawgiver:</span><br> + Those same slips that are his creed<br> + <span class="ind2">Shall confess their worshipper.</span><br> + <br> + "All the laws he must obey,<br> + <span class="ind2">Now in force and now repealed,</span><br> + Shift in eyes that shift as they—</p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + + +<p>"'Shift as they,' 'shift as they,'" mused Mr. Moggridge. "Let me see—"</p> + + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class="noindent"> 'Till alike with kisses sealed.'</p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + + +<p>"That was it. With another verse, and a little polishing, I will take it to Geraldine +and ask her—"</p> + +<p>At this point the poet glanced down the street, and, to his surprise, beheld Mrs. +Goodwyn-Sandys advancing towards him.</p> + +<p>"Good-morning," she nodded with a charming smile, "I was coming to look for +you. I have a favour to ask."</p> + +<p>"A favour? Is it <i>the</i>—?"</p> + +<p>"Well, it's rather prosaic for <i>the</i>—" she laughed. "In fact, it's <i>tea</i>."</p> + +<p>"Tea?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. It's rather a long story; but it comes to this. You see, Fred is very +particular about the tea he drinks."</p> + +<p>"Indeed?"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"To tell you the truth," said Mr. Moggridge, "I have never given the subject a +thought."</p> + +<p>"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 <i>really</i> written—"</p> + +<p>"Of course not; but you'll excuse me if I don't yet see—"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"I don't know that I think much about gossamer," said Mr. Moggridge.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"I have not, to my knowledge."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys produced a scrap of paper, and went on—</p> + +<p>"You see, it's coming in a ship called the <i>Maryland</i>, 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 <i>Maryland</i>;' 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."</p> + +<p>She paused for breath. The Collector smiled, and handed back the invoice.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys smiled back divinely. She thought it extremely probable.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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—</p> + +<p>"<i>Maryland</i>, ahoy!"</p> + +<p>"Ahoy!" answered a gruff voice, and a red face looked over the side.</p> + +<p>"Captain?" inquired Mr. Moggridge.</p> + +<p>"That's me—Uriah T. Potter, Cap'n. Customs, I guess," said the red-faced man, +with a slow look at Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys.</p> + +<p>"Clean bill of health?"</p> + +<p>"Waal, two fo'c's'le hands down with whoopin'-cough: take it you won't keep us +in quarantine for that."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Anything to declare?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"This is Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys," said the Collector.</p> + +<p>"Proud to make your 'cquaintance, marm." The Captain held out his hand to the +lady, who shook it affably.</p> + +<p>"Let's see the cargo," said Mr. Moggridge.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you poets!" expostulated she.</p> + + +<blockquote><blockquote> + <p class="noindent">"Where the tyrant's only fee," murmured Mr. Moggridge.<br> + <br> + "Is the kissing of a hand."</p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + + +<p>"What, more verses? You shall repeat them to me."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>They were seated together on a cask, and Mr. Moggridge had possessed himself, +for the twentieth time, of his companion's hand.</p> + +<p>"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!'"</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + + +<blockquote><blockquote> + <p class="noindent">"'The merchant, to conceal his treasure,<br> + <span class="ind2">Conveys it in a borrowed name,'"</span></p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + + +<p>Mr. Moggridge began to quote.—"Why, Geraldine, what is the matter? Are you +faint?"</p> + +<p>"No; it is nothing."</p> + +<p>"I thought you seemed pale. As I was saying—"</p> + + +<blockquote><blockquote> + <p class="noindent">'The merchant, to conceal his treasure—'</p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + + +<p>"Yes, yes, I know," said she, rising abruptly. "It is very hot and close down +here."</p> + +<p>"Then you <i>were</i> faint?"</p> + +<p>"Here's your chest, marm," called the voice of Uriah T. Potter.</p> + +<p>She turned and walked towards it. It was a large, square packing-case, and bore +the legends—</p> + + +<center> +"WAPSHOTT AND SONS',<br> +CHICAGO,<br> +PATENT COMPRESSED TEA,<br> +TEN PRIZE MEDALS"— +</center> + + +<p class="noindent">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'?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly," said Mr. Moggridge; "we won't be long opening it, and then—"</p> + +<p>"Opening it!"</p> + +<p>"Why, yes; as a matter of form, you know. It won't take a minute."</p> + +<p>"But how foolish," said Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys, "when you know very well by the +invoice that it's tea!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, of course it's foolish: only it's the rule, you understand, before allowing +goods to be landed."</p> + +<p>"But I don't understand. It is tea, and I am ready to pay the duty. I never thought +you would be so unreasonable."</p> + +<p>"Geraldine!"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>The Collector's hand arrested her.</p> + +<p>"Do you mean—?"</p> + +<p>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!"</p> + +<p>"Damn the tea!" said Mr. Moggridge.</p> + +<p>"I am feeling so faint," said Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys.</p> + +<p>"Let me lead you up to the fresh air."</p> + +<p>"No; go and open the tea."</p> + +<p>"I am not going to open it."</p> + +<p>"Do!"</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Come, be careful o' that chest," said Captain Uriah T. Potter to the minions, as +they moved it up to be weighed.</p> + +<p>"Heaviest tea that iver <i>I</i> handled," groaned the first minion.</p> + +<p>"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 <i>him</i>. You won't find him coming to complain."</p> + +<p>"No?"</p> + +<p>"No. But I ain't sayin' nuthin'," added Captain Potter, "about his widder."</p> + +<p>And his smile, as he regarded his hearers, was both engaging and expansive.</p> + + +<br> +<br> +<p><a name="17"></a> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XVII.</h3> +<h3>HOW ONE THAT WAS DISSATISFIED WITH HIS PAST SAW A VISION, +BUT DOUBTED.</h3> +<br> + + +<p>Caleb Trotter watched his master's behaviour during the next few days with a +growing impatience.</p> + +<p>"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'.'"</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, he would look up from his work at times with anxiety.</p> + +<p>"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' <a name="footnotetag17-1"></a><a href="#footnote17-1">[1]</a> +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'."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>"No, I fancy—stop! Is my writing-case here?"</p> + +<p>Caleb's anxiety took alarm.</p> + +<p>"You bain't a-goin' to do et in writin' sir, surely!"</p> + +<p>Mr. Fogo stared.</p> + +<p>"Don't 'ee, sir—don't 'ee!"</p> + +<p>"Really, Caleb, your behaviour is most extraordinary. What is it that I am not to +do?"</p> + +<p>"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 <i>he</i> +knowed, havin' married sax wifes, wan time an' another. But as for pen and ink—"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>Caleb moved uneasily, but was silent.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>His hearer, though puzzled by the words, vaguely understood the smile of +self-contempt with which they were closed.</p> + +<p>"As a woman-hater, too, my performances are beneath contempt. I <i>did</i> think," +said Mr. Fogo with something of testiness in his voice, "I should prove an +adequate woman-hater, whereas it happens—"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>Caleb fumbled in his pocket for his pipe, found it, held it up between finger and +thumb, and, looking along the stem, nodded.</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>For the pipe had dropped from Caleb's fingers and lay in pieces upon the floor.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>Caleb drew out a large handkerchief, and, mopping his brow, gasped—</p> + +<p>"Well, of all—" And then broke off to add feebly, "Here's a coincidence!—as Bill +said when he was hanged 'pon his birthday."</p> + +<p>"I have not met her yet, and until now have avoided the chance. But now I am +curious to see her—"</p> + +<p>"Don't 'ee, sir."</p> + +<p>"And to-night intended writing."</p> + +<p>"Don't 'ee, sir; don't 'ee."</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>"I reckon I do," said Caleb, rising heavily and making for the door.</p> + +<p>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—</p> + +<p>"Pleasant dreams to 'ee, sir: an' two knacks 'pon the floor ef I be wanted. +Good-night, sir." And with this he was gone.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"I wonder if she has changed," he said to himself.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>He puffed awhile in silence, and then went on—</p> + +<p>"The strange part of it is, that the argument does not seem to affect Tamsin as +much as I should have fancied."</p> + +<p>He paused for a moment, and added:</p> + +<p>"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—"</p> + +<p>He broke off to clutch the lattice, and stare with rigid eyes across the creek.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>When he looked up again the woman had disappeared.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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—"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>Caleb, with his back towards the house, was busily fitting a new thwart into Mr. +Fogo's boat, and singing with extreme gaiety—</p> + + +<blockquote><blockquote> + <p class="noindent">"Oh, where be the French dogs?<br> + <span class="ind2">Oh! where be they, O?</span><br> + They be down i' their long-boats,<br> + <span class="ind2">All on the salt say, O!"</span></p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + + +<p>What with the song and the hammering, he did not hear his master's approach.</p> + + +<blockquote><blockquote> + <p class="noindent">"Up flies the kite,<br> + <span class="ind2">An' down flies the lark, O!</span><br> + Wi' hale an' tow, rumbleow—"</p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + + +<p>"Good-morning, Caleb."</p> + +<p>"Aw, mornin' to 'ee, sir. You took me unawares—</p> + + +<blockquote><blockquote> + <p class="noindent">"All for to fetch home,<br> + <span class="ind2">The summer an' the May, O!</span><br> + For summer is a-come,<br> + <span class="ind2">An' winter es a-go.'"</span></p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + + +<p>"Caleb, I have seen a ghost."</p> + +<p>The mallet stopped in mid-descent. Caleb looked up again open-mouthed.</p> + +<p>"Tom Twist and Harry Dingle!"</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon?"</p> + +<p>"Figger o' speech, sir, meanin' 'Who'd ha' thought et?' Whose ghost, sir, ef 'taint +a rude question?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Fogo told his story.</p> + +<p>At its conclusion, Caleb laid down his mallet and whistled.</p> + +<p>"'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."</p> + +<p>"I?"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + + +<blockquote class="footnote"> + <p class="noindent"><a name="footnote17-1"></a> + [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. + <a href="#footnotetag17-1">(return)</a><br> +</blockquote> + + +<br> +<br> +<p><a name="18"></a> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XVIII.</h3> +<h3>OF A YOUNG MAN THAT WOULD START UPON A DARK ADVENTURE, +BUT HAD TWO MINDS UPON IT.</h3> +<br> + + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"For you, sir; an' plaise you'm to tell me 'yes' or 'no,' so quick as possible."</p> + +<p>Sam took the letter, glanced at the neat, feminine handwriting of the address, and +tore open the envelope.</p> + + +<blockquote><blockquote> + <p class="noindent">"Dear Mr. Buzza,</p> + + <p>"If you care to remember what was spoken the other evening, you + will to-night help a <i>most unhappy woman</i>. You will go to the + captain's cabin of the Wreck which we visited together, and find + there <i>a small portmanteau</i>. 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 <i>to-night</i>, no + <i>words</i> 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.</p> + + <p>"Look out for the <i>closed carriage and pair</i>. A word to the + bearer will tell me that I may hope, or that you care nothing + for me.</p> + + <p class="ind10">G. G.-S.</p> + + <p class="noindent">"P.S.—Be very careful <i>not to shake the + portmanteau</i>."</p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + + +<p>"What be I to say, plaise, sir?"</p> + +<p>Sam, who had read the letter for a third time syllable by syllable, looked around +helplessly.</p> + +<p>"Ef you plaise, what be I to say?"</p> + +<p>Sam very heartily wished both boy and letter to the devil. He groaned aloud, and +was about to answer, when he paused suddenly.</p> + +<p>In the room above Mr. Moggridge was singing a jaunty stave.</p> + +<p>The sound goaded Sam to madness; he ground his teeth and made up his mind.</p> + +<p>"Say 'yes,'" he answered, shortly.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Excuse me, but that is my chair and my paper."</p> + +<p>"Eh?" The poet looked up sweetly. "Surely, the Club chair and the Club paper—"</p> + +<p>"I have but this moment left them."</p> + +<p>"By a singular coincidence, I have but this moment taken possession of them."</p> + +<p>"Give them up, sir."</p> + +<p>"I shall do nothing of the kind, sir."</p> + +<p>At this point Sam was seized with the unlucky inspiration of quoting from Mr. +Moggridge's published works:</p> + + +<blockquote><blockquote> + <p class="noindent">"Forbid the flood to wet thy feet,<br> + <span class="ind2">Or bind its wrath in chains;</span><br> + But never seek to quench the heat<br> + <span class="ind2">That fires a poet's veins!"</span></p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + + +<p>This stanza, delivered with nice attention to its author's drawing-room manner, +was too much.</p> + +<p>"Sir, you are no gentleman!"</p> + +<p>"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!"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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:</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>What the Admiral actually said was—"Hullo! what the devil are you young cubs +quarrelling about?"</p> + +<p>And now, satisfied that no blood is to be spilt, the Muse hies gladly to a very +different scene.</p> + +<p>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—</p> + +<p>"Be you Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys?"</p> + +<p>"I am."</p> + +<p>"Answerin' to name o' Geraldine, an' lawful wife o' party answerin' to name o' +Honorubble Frederic?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly!" she smiled.</p> + +<p>"H'm. Then this 'ere's for you." And the blue-jerseyed man handed a letter, and +looked at her again, searchingly.</p> + +<p>"Is there an answer?"</p> + +<p>"No, I reckon."</p> + +<p>She was turning, when the man suddenly laid a finger on her arm.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"That's understood," he nodded; "atween you an' me an' the gate-post, o' cou'se."</p> + +<p>With that he had disappeared.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys, if bewildered at this, was yet more astonished at the +contents of the letter.</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly," answered the Honourable Frederic.</p> + +<p>"Then I'll trouble yez to listen to this."</p> + +<p>She read as follows:—</p> + + +<blockquote><blockquote> + <p class="noindent">"My Dear Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys,</p> + + <p>"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,<br> + <span class="ind10">Philip Fogo."</span></p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + + +<p>"What does it mean?" asked Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys helplessly.</p> + +<p>"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—"</p> + +<p>"Then he must have known—"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>He lay back in his chair and whistled.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"My poor soul!" murmured Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys, "you are in trouble."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Buzza tried to speak, but dropped into a chair and nodded instead.</p> + +<p>"What <i>is</i> the matter?"</p> + +<p>"It's—it's <i>him</i>."</p> + +<p>"The Admiral?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Buzza mopped her eyes and nodded again.</p> + +<p>"What has he done now?"</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>"Leave him!"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Buzza clasped her hands and stared.</p> + +<p>"You could see the m-marks quite plain," she wailed.</p> + +<p>"What! Did he strike you?"</p> + +<p>"I mean, on the bo-bottom of the c-cups. They were real W-worcester."</p> + +<p>"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—?"</p> + +<p>"I don't paint," put in Mrs. Buzza feebly.</p> + +<p>"Revolt, I say! Leave him this very night! Oh! if I could—"</p> + +<p>"If you please 'm," interrupted the page, throwing open the door, "here's Mrs. +Simpson, an' says she must see you partic'lar."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Oh! Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys, I must—"</p> + +<p>At this point she became aware of Mrs. Buzza, stopped abruptly, sank into a chair, +and began aimlessly to discuss the weather.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Pray come in," said their hostess blandly; "this is quite like a mothers' meeting."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>At length, finding the constraint past all bearing, Mrs. Buzza rose to go.</p> + +<p>"You will do it?" whispered her hostess as they shook hands.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"I will do it," she kept repeating to herself, "in spite of the poor girls."</p> + +<p>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—</p> + +<p>"I will do it. I have been a good wife to him; but it's all over now—it's all over +to-night."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"You wish to see my husband, Mr.—?" She hesitated over the name.</p> + +<p>"Not in the least," stammered Mr. Fogo.</p> + +<p>There was an awful silence, during which he stared blankly around on the ladies.</p> + +<p>"Then may I ask—?"</p> + +<p>"I desired to see Gerald—I mean, Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys—but—"</p> + +<p>"I am Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys. Would you mind stating your business?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Fogo started, dropped his hat, and leant back against the door again.</p> + +<p>"<i>You!</i>"</p> + +<p>"Certainly." Her mouth worked slightly, but her eyes were steady.</p> + +<p>"You are she that—was—once—Geraldine—O'Halloran?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly."</p> + +<p>"Excuse me, madam," said Mr. Fogo, picking up his hat and addressing Mrs. +Simpson politely, "but the mole on your chin annoys me."</p> + +<p>"Sir!"</p> + +<p>"Annoys me excessively. May I ask, was it a birth-mark?"</p> + +<p>"He is mad!" screamed the ladies, starting up and wringing their hands. "Oh, +help! help!"</p> + +<p>Mr. Fogo looked from one to another, and passed his hand wearily over his eyes.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>His eyes wandered to Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys, who stood with one hand resting on +the table, while the other pointed to the door.</p> + +<p>"Help! help!" screamed the ladies.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>And leaving the Honourable Frederic to gasp, he staggered from the house.</p> + +<p> </p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p> </p> + +<p>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—"<i>male feriatos Troas</i>"—busy with a mild +game of <i>ecarte</i>. 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.</p> + +<p> </p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>At the ladder's foot he put his hand to his damp brow, and peered into the cabin.</p> + +<p>In a moment his blood froze. A hoarse cry broke from him.</p> + +<p>For there—straight ahead—a white face with straining eyes stared into his own!</p> + +<p>And then he saw it was but his own reflection in a patch of mirror stuck into the +panel opposite.</p> + +<p>But the shock of that pallid mask confronting him had already unnerved him +utterly.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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—</p> + +<p>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.</p> + + +<br> +<br> +<p><a name="19"></a> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XIX.</h3> +<h3>THAT A SILVER BULLET HAS VIRTUE:<br> +WITH A WARNING TO COMMODORES.</h3> +<br> + + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>Caleb caressed a huge blunderbuss which lay across his knee, and caused Mr. Fogo +no slight apprehension.</p> + +<p>"Et puts me i' mind," he went on, as his master was silent, "o' th' ould lidden +<a name="footnotetag19-1"></a><a href="#footnote19-1">[1]</a> +as us used to sing when us was tiny mites:—"</p> + + +<blockquote><blockquote> + <p class="noindent">Riddle me, riddle me, riddle me right,<br> + Where was I last Sat'rday night?<br> + I seed a chimp-champ champin' at his bridle,<br> + I seed an ould fox workin' hissel' idle.<br> + The trees did shever, an' I did shake,<br> + To see what a hole thic' fox did make.</p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + + +<p>"Now I comes to think 'pon et, 'tes Sat'rday night too; an' that's odd, as Martha +said by her glove."</p> + +<p>Still Mr. Fogo was silent.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>Mr. Fogo roused himself from his abstraction to ask—</p> + +<p>"Do you seriously believe it was a ghost that I saw last night?"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"What? That a man's spirit comes back after death to trouble folks?"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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—</p> + + +<center> +"THE COMMODORE'S PROGRESS. +</center> + + +<p>"You've heerd me spake, sir, o' Joe Bonaday, him as made poetry 'long wi' me +wan time when lying becalmed off Ilfrycombe?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly."</p> + +<p>"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, +<a name="footnotetag19-2"></a><a href="#footnote19-2">[2]</a> +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."</p> + +<p>"I see."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"I think I understand," said Mr. Fogo.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"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, +<a name="footnotetag19-3"></a><a href="#footnote19-3">[3]</a> +bustious <a name="footnotetag19-4"></a><a href="#footnote19-4">[4]</a> +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'.</p> + +<p>"Th' ould man had no more sproil +<a name="footnotetag19-5"></a><a href="#footnote19-5">[5]</a> +nor a babby, an' had pretty nigh lost hes +mouth-speech, but he beckons Sam to the bed, and whispers—</p> + +<p>"' Sam, you've a-been a gude sarvent to me.'</p> + +<p>"'Gude maasters makes gude sarvents,' says Sam, an' falls to cryin' bitterly.</p> + +<p>"'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—'</p> + +<p>"'Cain,' says Sam.</p> + +<p>"'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. +<a name="footnotetag19-6"></a><a href="#footnote19-6">[6]</a> +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 +<a name="footnotetag19-7"></a><a href="#footnote19-7">[7]</a> +o' my chest there, i' the corner.'</p> + +<p>"''Tes a brave long way from here to England,' says Sam.</p> + +<p>"'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.'</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"Sam had disremembered all 'bout the Customs, you see, sir.</p> + +<p>"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—</p> + +<p>"'No, I ha'nt.'</p> + +<p>"'What's i' that box?' says the chap.</p> + +<p>"Now this was azackly what Sam cudn' tell 'un; so, for lack of anything better, he +says—</p> + +<p>"'What's that to you?'</p> + +<p>"'I reckon I must ha' that chest open,' says the chap.</p> + +<p>"'I reckon you'll be sorry ef you do,' says Sam.</p> + +<p>"'Tell me what's inside, then.'</p> + +<p>"'Why, darn your Spanish eyes!' cries Sam, 'can't 'ee see I be tryin' to think 'pon +the word for corpse?'</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"'Seems to me,' says the chap, prizin' the lid open a bit, an' snifnn', 'et smells +oncommon like sperrits.'</p> + +<p>"'I'm thinkin',' says Sam, ef <i>you'd</i> been kep' goin' on brandy-an'-milk for a +week an' more, <i>you'd</i> smell like sperrits.'</p> + +<p>"'I guess 'tes sperrits,' says wan.</p> + +<p>"'Or 'baccy,' says anuther.</p> + +<p>"'Or furrin fruits,' says a third.</p> + +<p>"'Well, you'm wrong,' says Sam, ''cos 'tes a plain British Commodore; an' I +reckon ef you taxes <i>that</i> sort o' import, you dunno what's good for 'ee.'</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"I suppose you mean 'cherubim,' Caleb?" corrected Mr. Fogo.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"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—"</p> + +<p>"Metaphors," said Mr. Fogo.</p> + +<p>"That's et—met-afores. Anyway, they jest fetched a yell, an' then <i>went</i>, 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.</p> + +<p>"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'.</p> + +<p>"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—</p> + +<p>"'Be you the party as es travellin' wi' a dead man?'</p> + +<p>"He spoke i' Spanish, o' cou'se, sir; but, not knowin' the tongue, I tells et to you +in English."</p> + +<p>"I had guessed that to be the reason," replied Mr. Fogo.</p> + +<p>"Well, Sam were a bit tuk aback, but he answers—</p> + +<p>"'Iss, I be. Why?'</p> + +<p>"'Want 'un berried?'</p> + +<p>"'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.'</p> + +<p>"'Then,' says the dapper man, 'I'll trouble you to hand over the berryin' fees for +this parish.'</p> + +<p>"'But I baint goin' to berry deceased i' this parish.'</p> + +<p>"'That don't matter. Ef a corpse has use o' this parish, he's got to pay fees.'</p> + +<p>"'How's that?'</p> + +<p>"'Why, a corpse es dead,' says the chap; 'you'll allow that, I s'pose?'</p> + +<p>"'Iss,' says Sam, 'I reckon I'll allow that.'</p> + +<p>"'An' ef a corpse es i' this parish, he's dead i' this parish?'</p> + +<p>"'Likely he es,' admits Sam.</p> + +<p>"'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'.'</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"He hadn' been long sleepin' when the train pulls up agen, an' arter a minnit in +comes anuther chap wi' a tellygram.</p> + +<p>"'Deceased?' axes the chap, pointin' to the chest.</p> + +<p>"'Mod'rately,' says Sam.</p> + +<p>"'Wants berryin' p'raps?' says the chap.</p> + +<p>"'I reckon he'll hold on a bit longer.'</p> + +<p>"'Next parish, likely?'</p> + +<p>"'Why, iss,' says Sam, 'or next arter that.'</p> + +<p>"'Ah, what et es to be rich!' says the man, kind o' envious-like.</p> + +<p>"'What do 'ee mean by that?' Sam axes.</p> + +<p>"'Niver mind,' answers the man. ''Twarn't no bus'ness o' mines. Wud 'ee kindly +hand me the fees for this parish?'</p> + +<p>"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.'</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"'Talk 'bout fun'rals!' says he, 'I reckon this es suthin' <i>like</i>. 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!''</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"'Aw, good eveling!' says Sam.</p> + +<p>"'Good eveling,' says the man i' black, an' nods t'wards the chest. 'How's +deceased?'</p> + +<p>"'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.</p> + +<p>"'I don't want no fees,' says the man.</p> + +<p>"Sam was knacked 'pon a heap wi' this.</p> + +<p>"'Well, then, you'm the fust man I've a-met in Spain as doesn',' he says.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"'You'll 'scuse me, sir, but this compartment es resarved.'</p> + +<p>"'That's a pity,' says the stranger, ''cos the train's a-started.'</p> + +<p>"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—</p> + +<p>"'Terrable hot weather this, ain't et, sir?' Somehow et seemed to Sam as ef et had +got hotter sence the stranger comed in.</p> + +<p>"'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.</p> + +<p>"'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!'</p> + +<p>"'What's awful?'</p> + +<p>"'The heat,' answers Sam, moppin' his forehead; 'but I s'pose you'm a traveller, +an' 'customed to heat.'</p> + +<p>"'Why, iss,' says t'other, 'I do travel a purty passel to an' fro 'pon th' earth. Few +folks travels more'n me.'</p> + +<p>"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—</p> + +<p>"'Hulloa! here's a stashun.'</p> + +<p>"Well, the train pulls up, an' Sam says to the stranger—</p> + +<p>"'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.'</p> + +<p>"The stranger was very willin', and away Sam goes.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"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.'"</p> + + +<p>"That's a very curious tale," said Mr. Fogo, as Caleb leant back in the +window-seat and awaited its effect.</p> + +<p>"'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—"</p> + +<p>He broke off and clutched his master by the arm.</p> + +<p>"Look, sir—look!"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>The two watchers leapt to their feet and peered out at the window.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"There! Look—the boat!"</p> + +<p>Caleb whipped the blunderbuss up to his shoulder and shouted—</p> + +<p>"Who be 'ee? Darn 'ee, here goes—wan, two, dree, all to wanst!"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>When the pair recovered and looked forth again, the echoes had died away, and +once more the night was tranquil.</p> + + +<blockquote class="footnote"> + <p class="noindent"><a name="footnote19-1"></a> + [1] A monotonous chant or burthen. + <a href="#footnotetag19-1">(return)</a><br> + + <a name="footnote19-2"></a> + [2] A fiddler. + <a href="#footnotetag19-2">(return)</a><br> + + <a name="footnote19-3"></a> + [3] Thick-set. + <a href="#footnotetag19-3">(return)</a><br> + + <a name="footnote19-4"></a> + [4] Stout. + <a href="#footnotetag19-4">(return)</a><br> + + <a name="footnote19-5"></a> + [5] Strength. + <a href="#footnotetag19-5">(return)</a><br> + + <a name="footnote19-6"></a> + [6] Kin. + <a href="#footnotetag19-6">(return)</a><br> + + <a name="footnote19-7"></a> + [7] A concealed compartment or drawer. + <a href="#footnotetag19-7">(return)</a><br> +</blockquote> + + +<br> +<br> +<p><a name="20"></a> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XX.</h3> +<h3>HOW CERTAIN CHARACTERS FOUND THEMSELVES,<br> +AT DEAD OF NIGHT, UPON THE FIVE LANES ROAD.</h3> +<br> + + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>It wanted twenty minutes to eleven.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"No <i>words</i> 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?</p> + +<p>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—</p> + + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class="noindent">"Too late the balm when the heart is broke!"</p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + + +<p>And a Trojan voice at the back assented—</p> + +<p>"A durn sight."</p> + +<p>Why had we been denied that perspicacity now?</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>The cigar was barely half smoked when he heard a noise in the distance.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Ah! you are there," she exclaimed with a little cry of relief. "I have been so +afraid. Have you got it?"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Here it is. Geraldine—"</p> + +<p>"Oh! thanks, thanks. How can I show my thanks?"</p> + +<p>The perfume of her hair floated out upon the night with the music of her tone until +they both fairly intoxicated him.</p> + +<p>He opened the door of the chaise.</p> + +<p>"Where shall I stow it?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Here, opposite me; be very careful of it."</p> + +<p>In the darkness he saw a huge bundle of rugs piled by Geraldine's side.</p> + +<p>"Where am I to sit?" he asked, as he bestowed the portmanteau carefully.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Geraldine!"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Moggridge? But no—"</p> + +<p>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!</p> + + +<p>There was an instant of blank dismay. Then, with a peal of laughter, Geraldine +sank back among the cushions.</p> + +<p>"<i>Good</i>-night!" said the Honourable Frederic with grim affability; then, popping +his head out at the further window, "Drive on, John!"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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 <i>Sophronia: a Tragedy</i>—</p> + +<p><span>          </span>"Let me be criminal, but never weak;</p> +<p><span>          </span>For weaklings wear the stunted form of sin</p> +<p><span>          </span>Without its brave apparel"—</p> + +<p>and considered Sam Buzza as he writhed beneath the sign-post.</p> + +<p><i>Pat, pat, pat!</i></p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Who are you?" he asked gently. "Don't be afraid."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"<i>Mother!</i>"</p> + +<p>"Oh! Sam, Sam, don't betray me! I'll go back—indeed I'll go back!"</p> + +<p>"In Heaven's name, mother, what are you doing here?"</p> + +<p>The retort was obvious, but Mrs. Buzza merely cried—</p> + +<p>"Dear Sam, have pity on me, and take me back! I'll go quietly—quite quietly."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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!"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"I shall never be able to face her, Sam."</p> + +<p>"I don't think you need trouble about that, mother," he answered grimly.</p> + +<p>"But I do. It was she—"</p> + +<p>But at this moment, from the hedge, a few yards in front, there issued a hollow +groan.</p> + +<p>They halted, and questioned each other with frightened eyes.</p> + +<p>"Geraldine!" wailed the voice. "Cruel, perjured Geraldine!"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Geraldine!" continued the voice. "Oh! dig my grave—my shroud prepare; for she +was false as she was fair. Geraldine, my Geraldine!"</p> + +<p>"Moggridge, by all that's holy!" cried Sam.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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—"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Did you ever see anything more lovely?"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + + +<br> +<br> +<center> +<img src="images/FIG14.JPG" +alt="With his back towards them sat the Admiral."><br> +<span class="caption">With his back towards them sat the Admiral.</span> +</center> +<br> +<br> + + +<p>"Hornaby!" This was the Admiral's Christian name.</p> + +<p>"Emily!"</p> + +<p>He turned and stared at her stupidly. The look was pitiful. She flung herself before +him.</p> + +<p>"Forgive me, Hornaby! I never thought—I mean, it was all a—"</p> + +<p>"Practical joke," suggested Sam.</p> + +<p>"No, no. I meant to go, but I have come back. Hornaby, can you forgive me?"</p> + +<p>He raised her up, and drew her towards him very tenderly.</p> + +<p>"I—I thought it had <i>killed</i> me," he muttered hoarsely. "Emily, I have treated you +badly."</p> + +<p>Sam discreetly withdrew.</p> + + +<br> +<br> +<p><a name="21"></a> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXI.</h3> +<h3>THAT A VERY LITTLE TEA MAY SUFFICE TO ELEVATE A MAN.</h3> +<br> + + +<p>Next morning Mr. Fogo was aroused from sleep by the rattle of breakfast-cups, +and the voice of Caleb singing below—</p> + + +<blockquote><blockquote> + <p class="noindent">"O, Amble es a fine town, wi' ships in the bay,<br> + An' I wish wi' my heart I was on'y there to-day;<br> + I wish wi' my heart I was far away from here,<br> + A-sittin' in my parlour, an' a-talkin' to my dear."</p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + + +<p>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—</p> + + +<blockquote><blockquote> + <p class="noindent">"Then 'tes home, dearie, home—O, 'tes home I wants to be!<br> + My tawps'les are h'isted, an' I must out to sea.<br> + Then 'tes home, dearie, home!"</p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"I will explore it this very morning," thought Mr. Fogo to himself.</p> + +<p>The resolve was still strong as he descended to breakfast. Caleb was still singing—</p> + + +<blockquote><blockquote> + <p class="noindent">"O, ef et be a lass, she shall wear a goulden ring;<br> + An' ef et be a lad, he shall live to sarve hes king;<br> + Wi' hes buckles, an' hes butes, an' hes little jacket blue,<br> + He shall walk the quarter-deck, as hes daddy used to do.<br> + Then 'tes home—"</p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean after the ghost?"</p> + +<p>"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'."</p> + +<p>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 <i>varia lectio</i>.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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—"<i> +Wapshott and Sons. Chicago. Patent Compressed Tea. With Care</i>." Mr. Fogo +poked his nose inside it. A faint smell of tea still lingered about the wood.</p> + +<p>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—</p> + + +<blockquote><blockquote> + <p class="noindent">A watch-glass.<br> + Three brass buttons (one bearing the initials P. J., and all + coated with verdigris).<br> + A pair of nut-crackers.<br> + Several leaves of a devotional work entitled "Where shall I be + To-morrow? or, Thoughts for Mariners."<br> + A key.<br> + An oily rag.<br> + The cap of a telescope.<br> + An empty bottle, labelled, and bearing in faded ink: "Poison. + For Dick Collins, when his leg is bad."</p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + + +<p>On the whole this was not encouraging. Mr. Fogo was turning to abandon the +search, when something upon the cabin-floor caught his eye.</p> + +<p>He stooped and picked it up. It was a lady's glove.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"This is very odd," muttered he; "I can hardly fancy a smuggler wearing this, still +less a ghost."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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—</p> + + +<center> +"WAPSHOTTS' PATENT COMPRESSED TEA."<br> +<br> +<i>Beware of Imitations.</i>" +</center> + + +<p>The lid was lightly soldered, and the canister remarkably heavy.</p> + +<p>Mr. Fogo pulled out his pocket-knife, sat down on the edge of the packing-case, +and began to open his prize.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Very curious tea this," remarked Mr. Fogo. "It's a deal more like putty—or +Californian honey."</p> + +<p>The light in the cabin was faint; he determined to carry the canister on deck and +examine it in the sunlight.</p> + +<p>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—</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p> </p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>This much is sure—that among the knot of loungers at the church-gate such +sentences as the following passed from mouth to mouth—</p> + +<p>"Es et true, do'ee think?"</p> + +<p>"Certain—carr'ge an' pair from Five Lanes las' night—not a word said."</p> + +<p>"My!"</p> + +<p>"Ef so, this town's been purtily robbed."</p> + +<p>"That's a true word."</p> + +<p>Then this happened—</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>Outside "The Bower" they halted for a moment. One tradesman, a furniture +dealer, bolder than the rest, advanced to the front-door and knocked.</p> + +<p>The boy in buttons answered with a white face. In a moment the truth was out.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Sunday or no Sunday," screamed the choleric upholsterer, "every stick of mine +will I take off this morning!"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>A cheer followed. The Trojan blood was up.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>As each fresh article was confiscated, the crowd cheered anew.</p> + +<p>Never was such a scene in Troy. Even the local aristocracy— the +<i>Cumeelfo</i>—mingled with the throng and watched the havoc as curiously as their +neighbours.</p> + +<p>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—</p> + +<p>"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 <i>can</i>."</p> + +<p>And the poor lady hid her face in her hands.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>Troy trembled. It remembered its neglected Sabbath, and trembled again.</p> + + +<br> +<br> +<p><a name="22"></a> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXII.</h3> +<h3>IN WHICH SEVERAL ATTEMPTS ARE MADE<br> +TO PUT A PERIOD TO THIS HISTORY.</h3> +<br> + + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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—</p> + +<p>If the explosion came from the creek, where the light smoke hung, there would be +a wave.</p> + +<p>She half turned on the thwart and looked intently.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>Mr. Fogo opened his eyes and shut them again, feebly.</p> + +<p>"Not dead! Oh! thank Heaven you are not dead."</p> + +<p>With a sob she dropped again beside him, and brushed the flaked powder from his +eye-lashes.</p> + +<p>He opened his eyes again.</p> + +<p>"Would you mind speaking up? I—I think I am a little deaf."</p> + +<p>"I thought you were dead," she cried, in a louder tone.</p> + +<p>"No-o, I am not dead. Oh! no; decidedly I am not dead. It—it was the Tea, I +fancy."</p> + +<p>He added this apologetically, much as some gentlemen are wont to plead "the +salmon."</p> + +<p>Apparently believing the explanation sufficient, he shut his eyes again, and seemed +inclined to go to sleep.</p> + +<p>"The Tea?" questioned Tamsin, chafing his hands.</p> + +<p>"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 <i>called</i> +itself Tea, but I'm—bound—to— admit—"</p> + +<p>He was nodding again. Utterly perplexed, Tamsin leant back and regarded him.</p> + +<p>"Can you walk, if you lean on my arm?"</p> + +<p>"Walk? Oh! yes, I can walk. Why not?"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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—</p> + + +<blockquote><blockquote> + <p class="noindent">That it is given as an explanation by men of science,<br> + Without being a "scientific" explanation;<br> + But is, in fact, a "metaphysical" explanation,<br> + And therefore no explanation at all of<br> + The astonishing fact that dynamite hits one thing and does not + hit another.</p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + + +<br> +<br> +<center> +<img src="images/FIG15.JPG" +alt="With infinite difficulty got him across the mud."><br> +<span class="caption">With infinite difficulty got him across the mud.</span> +</center> +<br> +<br> + + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Where am I?"</p> + +<p>"Safe and sound, I hope."</p> + +<p>He passed his hand over his eyes and shivered again.</p> + +<p>"I remember. Something—blew up, did it not? The canister, I think."</p> + +<p>She nodded encouragingly.</p> + +<p>"Where did you come from?" he asked abruptly.</p> + +<p>"From church."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>She nodded again.</p> + +<p>"I am aching all over," he added with a shiver.</p> + +<p>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?"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Is there any brandy or whiskey in the house?"</p> + +<p>He shook his head.</p> + +<p>"If you want to drink—" he began, but stopped hastily and added, "I beg your +pardon."</p> + +<p>"Is there any tea?"</p> + +<p>He pointed to the cupboard, but dropped his arm with a groan. She was at his side +in a moment.</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>He nodded.</p> + +<p>"That's right."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Milk?" she asked.</p> + +<p>He nodded towards a blue jug on the mantel-shelf.</p> + +<p>"Milk on the mantel-shelf! That's like a man."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"You are better."</p> + +<p>"Much. I can remember it all, after a fashion. Did I talk nonsense?"</p> + +<p>"A little." She smiled again.</p> + +<p>His eyes followed her as she moved about the kitchen. Presently he said—</p> + +<p>"You are very good to me."</p> + +<p>"I think I am."</p> + +<p>"Tamsin—"</p> + +<p>She turned suddenly to the table, and caught up the teapot.</p> + +<p>"Do you know," she asked, "that tea is worthless if it stands for more than five +minutes?"</p> + +<p>She filled a cup, and gave it to him with a hand that trembled slightly. He sipped, +and scalded his lip.</p> + +<p>"Tamsin—"</p> + +<p>"My name is Dearlove," she said shortly, "and you are spilling the tea."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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—"</p> + +<p>He looked up, and found her regarding him with eyes ablaze.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"I think," said Tamsin, "you had better put your master to bed."</p> + +<p>"Mussy 'pon us, what's been doin'?"</p> + +<p>Briefly she told as much as she knew. With each successive sentence Caleb's +mouth and eyes opened wider.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>She dropped him a low curtsey and was gone. He started up.</p> + +<p>"Where be goin', sir? Sit down; you'm not fit to stir."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"What are you doing?" she cried. "Go back to bed."</p> + +<p>As she faced him, he could see that her eyes were full of angry tears. The sight +checked him.</p> + +<p>"It's—it's of no consequence," he stammered, "only I was going to ask you to be +my wife."</p> + +<p>For answer she turned on her heel, and walked resolutely down the steps.</p> + +<p>Mr. Fogo stood and watched her until she disappeared, and then crawled painfully +back into the house.</p> + + +<p>"An' now, sir," said Caleb, as he led his master to bed, "warnin' et es. This day +month, I goes, unless—"</p> + +<p>"Unless what, Caleb?"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"My dear Caleb," groaned Mr. Fogo, "I only wish I could! But I will try again +to-morrow."</p> + + +<br> +<br> +<p><a name="23"></a> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXIII.</h3> +<h3>HOW ONE LOVER TOOK LEAVE OF HIS WITS,<br> +AND TWO CAME TO THEIR SENSES.</h3> +<br> + + +<p>But Mr. Fogo was not to try again on the morrow.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Beggin' your pard'n, Doctor," interposed Caleb with firmness, "but I've a-got my +orders."</p> + +<p>"Eh?"</p> + +<p>"I've a-got my orders. Plaise God, an' wi' plenty o' doctor's trade, +<a name="footnotetag23-1"></a><a href="#footnote23-1">[1]</a> +us'll pull +'un round: but nobody nusses maaster 'ceptin' you an' me—leastways, no +womankind."</p> + +<p>"This is nonsensical."</p> + +<p>"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 <i>stone</i> her."</p> + +<p>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:—</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"Hulloa!" said Caleb, "what's up?"</p> + +<p>The pair looked at each other. At length Peter began with a serious face and +unwonted formality of tone—</p> + +<p>"Es Mr. Fogo wi'in?"</p> + +<p>"Why, iss," Caleb allowed, "he's inside."</p> + +<p>"We was a-wishin' to request o' the pleasure"—here Peter looked at Paul, who +nodded—"the pleasure o' an interval o' five minnits."</p> + +<p>"Interview," corrected Paul.</p> + +<p>"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.'"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Busy?"</p> + +<p>"Iss. A-makin' proposals o' marriage—which es a serious thing, an' not to be +interrupted."</p> + +<p>The Twins set down the basket and stared at each other. Paul was the first to +recover.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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'."</p> + +<p>"What!"</p> + +<p>"Step up an' see."</p> + +<p>"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'?"</p> + +<p>"No, I shudn'."</p> + +<p>"Well, I reckon'd not. An' that bein' so, Go's the word."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>The Twins stared, whispered together, took off their boots, and softly entered the +house. At the door of the sick-room Caleb met them.</p> + +<p>"Brain fever," he whispered, "which es on'y catchin' for them as has brains to +catch et wi'."</p> + +<p>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—</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>"Tamsin!"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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!"</p> + +<p>"Pore soul!" whispered Paul; "an' 'tes Leap Year, too, which makes wan extry."</p> + +<p>"Don't leave me, Tamsin—don't leave me!"</p> + +<p>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—</p> + +<p>"You was right, Peter."</p> + +<p>"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—"</p> + +<p>Peter weakly concluded with a sigh.</p> + +<p>"Bring Tamsin down an' help me here," said Caleb, from across the room.</p> + +<p>The pair started.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"What is it, my love?" inquired his wife. "Nothing wrong, I hope?"</p> + +<p>"Wrong? Oh! no," replied the Admiral grimly, "nothing—wrong. Oblige me by +listening to this, madam." He took up the paper and read aloud:</p> + + +<center> +"ANOTHER DYNAMITE PLOT.<br> +A WHOLE TOWN DECEIVED—EXTRAORDINARY PROCEEDINGS.<br> +ESCAPE OF THE SUSPECTED PERSONS.<br> +THE DYNAMITE FIENDS STILL AT LARGE. +</center> + + +<p>"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—"</p> + +<p>["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."]</p> + +<p class="noindent">"appeared at Troy as tenants of one of +the most fashionable villa residences in that +town. The <i>elite</i> [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."</p> + +<p>"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!"</p> + +<p>"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) <i>non sunt inventi</i>. The neatness with which the escape was +executed points to the disquieting conclusion that they did not want for assistance."</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Is that you, Sam? Come in."</p> + +<p>Then, having displayed the olive-branch, the Poet waved the newspaper feebly, and +groaned.</p> + +<p>"Moggridge, old man—"</p> + +<p>"Sam!"</p> + +<p>"What a pair of asses we have been!</p> + +<p>"The Poet moaned, and pointed to the paper.</p> + +<p>"I know," nodded Sam; "is it true, d'ye think?"</p> + +<p>"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—"</p> + +<p>"Pooh!" broke in Sam; "stuff and nonsense, man! It's bad for you, I know, but +after all <i>I'm</i> the sufferer."</p> + +<p>The Collector of Customs turned a glassy stare upon him.</p> + +<p>"<i>I</i> carried the bag up to Five Lanes; <i>I</i> put the infernal stuff into her very +hands; <i>I</i>—"</p> + +<p>"<i>You?</i>"</p> + +<p>Sam nodded desperately. "She asked me to elope with her—to meet her at Five +Lanes."</p> + +<p>Mr. Moggridge staggered up to his feet, and fumbled in his waistcoat pocket.</p> + +<p>"You are mad!" he gasped. "She asked <i>me</i> to elope with her—<i>me</i> 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.</p> + +<p>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—</p> + +<p>"False, false!"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Do you mean to say," he asked, after a pause, "that you helped her to land the +stuff?"</p> + +<p>"I thought it was Tea."</p> + +<p>"And you never examined it?"</p> + +<p>"She told me it was Tea."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"You were sold for 'love,' which is pretty much the same, I take it, as being given +away," objected the Poet testily.</p> + +<p>"Not at all the same, Moggridge, as being given away—with half a pound of Tea."</p> + + +<blockquote class="footnote"> + <p class="noindent"><a name="footnote23-1"></a> + [1] Medicine. + <a href="#footnotetag23-1">(return)</a><br> +</blockquote> + + +<br> +<br> +<p><a name="24"></a> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXIV.</h3> +<h3>OF THE BEST HELLEBORE; AND AN EXPERIMENT<br> +IN THE ENTERTAINMENT OF TWINS.</h3> +<br> + + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Who are you?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"I am Tamsin Dearlove."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>What happened on his next return to consciousness shall be given in his own +words. He told me the story last autumn:—</p> + +<p>"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 <i>did</i>, as the obnoxious phrase has it, 'propose' to Tamsin, whereas +you—ahem—did <i>not</i>."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"'This,' he remarked, setting down the tray and eyeing Tamsin severely, 'ain't +nussin' properly so called.'</p> + +<p>"I do not think we made any answer to this.</p> + +<p>"'Ef a name es to be found for 't, 'tain't so much 'nussin'' as 'goin's on.''</p> + +<p>"'Your sister has promised to be my wife,' I ventured.</p> + +<p>"'Beggin' your pard'n, sir, but the Catechism has summat to say to that.'</p> + +<p>"'The Catechism?'</p> + +<p>"'Iss, sir—'that stashun o' life.' An' not a word 'bout raisin' et, even by th' use o' +globes—which some considers unekalled.'</p> + +<p>"I put out my hand to cover Tamsin's, and looked up into her face before I +answered him with some heat—</p> + +<p>"'I won't affect to misunderstand you. You mean that I am marrying beneath me?'</p> + +<p>"He hesitated.</p> + +<p>"'There's two meanin's to 'beneath''</p> + +<p>"'Ah!' I cried, 'I am glad you see that.'</p> + +<p>"He looked at me slowly and continued—</p> + +<p>"'Second p'int. Not so long agone you was talkin' of a Geraldin."</p> + +<p>"I glanced at Tamsin again and comprehended.</p> + +<p>"'I have been talking—?'</p> + +<p>"She nodded.</p> + +<p>"'And you know it all—the whole story?'</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"'Oh!' said Peter, very shortly; 'I'm thinkin' I'd best see Paul 'bout this;' and with +that he disappeared.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Where is Tam—Miss Dearlove?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Gone?"</p> + +<p>"Gone, an' left we like Hocken's duck, wi'out mate or fellow."</p> + +<p>"How long?"</p> + +<p>"Matter o' five hour'."</p> + +<p>There was a long silence.</p> + +<p>"Caleb!"</p> + +<p>"Aye, aye, sir."</p> + +<p>"How long do you think it will be before I can get about—be fit to go downstairs, I +mean?"</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Do you think a week would do it?"</p> + +<p>"Better say a fortni't, sir."</p> + +<p>"What day is it to-day?"</p> + +<p>"Thursday."</p> + +<p>"Have I been ill for two days?"</p> + +<p>"For a fortni't an' two days."</p> + +<p>"Bless my soul!"</p> + +<p>"Amen, sir."</p> + +<p>"Caleb, would you mind writing a letter for me?"</p> + +<p>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:—</p> + + +<blockquote><blockquote> + <p class="noindent">"Hond Twins,—"</p> + + <p>"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> + + <p class="noindent"><span class="ind10">"P. Fogo, Esq."</span></p> + + <p><span class="ind10">"per C. Trotter."</span></p> + + <p class="noindent">"Knowing whats up with the kitchin range you wont look for much + of A dinner."</p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + + +<p>The answer was brought up by Paul Dearlove early, next morning. It ran:—</p> + + +<blockquote><blockquote> + <p class="noindent">"Respectd Sir,—"</p> + + <p>"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"</p> + + <p class="noindent"><span class="ind10">"Your obedt servts"</span></p> + + <p><span class="ind2">(signed)</span><span class="ind2"> + "Peter Dearlove."</span></p> + + <p class="noindent"><span class="ind10">"Paul Dearlove."</span></p> + + <p class="noindent">"Thomasina has gone into Troy or would + have signed too."</p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"We must not be too ambitious, Caleb. Let the fare be simple— '<i>Persicos odi, +puer, apparatus</i>'—as long as it is well cooked and neatly served."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>Here Mr. Fogo sat awaiting his guests; for the preparation of the drawing-room +would have overtaxed Caleb's resources.</p> + +<p>"Miss Thomasina Dearlove, and Messrs. Peter and Paul ditto!"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>But the Twins!</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>Mr. Fogo took heart of grace and bade them welcome.</p> + +<p>"'Tes a warm evenin'," ventured Paul, rubbing a forefinger round the inside of his +collar.</p> + +<p>"Uncommon," responded Peter, addressing his brother.</p> + +<p>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—</p> + +<p>"Now, then, remember what the old leddy said to make her guests aisy, 'I'm at +home, an' I wish you all were.'"</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"If one of you would say Grace—"</p> + +<p>"Tamsin says it at home. I taught her mysel'," said Peter. "Now, then, little maid, +'For what we'm about—'"</p> + +<p>She spoke the simple Grace and the company sat down—with the exception of Paul.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"'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."</p> + +<p>He dropped into his seat, and taking off his gloves laid them beside his glasses. +Peter, more ceremonious, retained his throughout the meal.</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>"I think," said she, rising, "if you will let me help—"</p> + +<p>"Sutt'nly," assented Peter in a loud tone. "To be sure—that es, beggin' your +pard'n, sir," he added apologetically.</p> + +<p>"It is very good of you," said Mr. Fogo.</p> + +<p>"I should like to help," she explained, and followed Caleb to the kitchen.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Must you really be going?"</p> + +<p>"Eh?"</p> + +<p>"It is early yet; but I suppose you have some distance to go?"</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"Let me, at least, help you on with your coats."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"I am afraid I am too weak to offer much assistance—"</p> + +<p>"Don't 'ee menshun et."</p> + +<p>They resumed their coats, and groped for hats and sticks. A deep and awful +wonder possessed them both.</p> + +<p>"The night is fine," observed their host, as he opened the door: "you will have a +pleasant journey home. <i>Good</i>-night!"</p> + +<p>He shook them by the hand as they staggered out, shut the door upon them, and +returned pensively to the dining-room.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Peter!"</p> + +<p>"Paul!"</p> + +<p>"Wud 'ee mind pinchin' me i' the ca'f o' the leg, jes' to make sure?"</p> + +<p>"I was a-goin' to ax the same favour, Paul."</p> + +<p>"Well, churchwarden or no churchwarden, I reckon I <i>am</i> damned!"</p> + +<p>"What I complains of in this 'ere fash'nubble life," said Peter slowly, "es this—'tes +too various—by a sight, too various."</p> + +<p>"Arter eatin' next door to nuthin' all day, so's we mou'tn' be behindhand in +tacklin' the vittles!"</p> + +<p>There was an interval of painful stupor.</p> + +<p>"Paul!"</p> + +<p>"Peter!"</p> + +<p>"I'm reckonin' up what my hunger's wuth at this moment. I dunno as I'd take +twenty pund for 't."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Hulloa! where's the Twins?"</p> + +<p>"Eh?"</p> + +<p>"Es this a round game, or a conjurin' trick?"</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>"Where—be—they—Twins?"</p> + +<p>"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!"</p> + +<p>Caleb did not wait for the end of the sentence, but darting out, discovered the +brothers in the porch, and haled them back.</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon most heartily," said Mr. Fogo, as they appeared; "the fact is—"</p> + +<p>"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—"</p> + +<p>Mr. Fogo looked at Tamsin. She broke into a merry laugh.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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!"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>"I mou't," admitted Peter slowly.</p> + +<p>"I ask you, then, if Tamsin has your leave to make me happy. Knowing what it +costs you—"</p> + +<p>"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 <i>you</i> her heart es set to marry—meanin' no offence, sir. But as <i>'tes</i> +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."</p> + +<p>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—</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + + +<br> +<br> +<p><a name="25"></a> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXV.</h3> +<h3>WHICH ENDS THE STORY OF TROY.</h3> +<br> + + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Oh, 'tes you," said Caleb, as he thrust open the lattice; "what's amiss now?"</p> + +<p>"We have been considerin' which of us two es to gi'e Tamsin away."</p> + +<p>"Toss up."</p> + +<p>"We <i>have</i> tossed up—scores o' times."</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"The results," said Peter gravely, "es versified."</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"Otherwise, various. The results es various—inclinin' to Paul."</p> + +<p>"Well, let Paul do it."</p> + +<p>"Peter es oulder," objected Paul.</p> + +<p>"By dree minnits—which don't fairly count," put in Peter.</p> + +<p>"Peter," observed Caleb, "looks th' oulder—by full dree minnits."</p> + +<p>"Paul went to school afore me," said Peter, "by two days—along o' measles."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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—</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>Immense excitement at this point prevailed among certain elderly spinsters present.</p> + +<p>"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!"</p> + +<p>At this point he was sitting down when Paul leant across and whispered in his ear.</p> + +<p>"You are right, Paul," said the orator—"or offsprings. Bless their dear offspring +<i>or</i> offsprings—as the case may be."</p> + +<p>And with this he resumed his seat amid frantic applause.</p> + + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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. <i>Popocatepetl</i>, 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.</p> + +<p>"That Highlander," he said, "is out of drawing."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + + +<p>Meanwhile the Twins, unconscious of the flight of time, and untutored in the ways +of locomotives, were loading their sister with parting advice.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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!"</p> + +<p>"God bless you both, my dear brothers!"</p> + +<p>"Amazin'," said Paul; "I see the Cumpenny won't hold itsel' liable for—"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"Where's my wife?" he cried. "Which carriage—?"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"That," said Peter, turning slowly to his brother, "was nibby-gibby."</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>"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'."</p> + + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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, "<i>ad libitum</i>." I am +inclined to think he meant "<i>ad infinitum</i>;" but the argument is quite as cogent as +it stands.</p> + +<p>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 <i>Cumeelfo</i>. Some +months ago the Admiral button-holed me in the street.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, literary people."</p> + +<p>"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—"</p> + +<p>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.</p> + + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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."</p> + +<p>Sam Buzza has gone to College.</p> + +<p> </p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>And yet—</p> + +<p>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—</p> + +<p>"In the Great Exhibition of 1851, my dear, Her Majesty the Queen, while +partaking of luncheon—" </p> + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr class="full" noshade> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ASTONISHING HISTORY OF TROY TOWN***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 17263-h.txt or 17263-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/7/2/6/17263">https://www.gutenberg.org/1/7/2/6/17263</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution.</p> + + + +<pre> +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +<a href="https://gutenberg.org/license">https://gutenberg.org/license)</a>. + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +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 + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS,' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at https://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/pglaf. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at https://www.gutenberg.org/about/contact + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit https://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/pglaf + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including including checks, online payments and credit card +donations. To donate, please visit: +https://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +Each eBook is in a subdirectory of the same number as the eBook's +eBook number, often in several formats including plain vanilla ASCII, +compressed (zipped), HTML and others. + +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks replace the old file and take over +the old filename and etext number. The replaced older file is renamed. +VERSIONS based on separate sources are treated as new eBooks receiving +new filenames and etext numbers. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + +<a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">https://www.gutenberg.org</a> + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + +EBooks posted prior to November 2003, with eBook numbers BELOW #10000, +are filed in directories based on their release date. If you want to +download any of these eBooks directly, rather than using the regular +search system you may utilize the following addresses and just +download by the etext year. + +<a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/etext06/">https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/etext06/</a> + + (Or /etext 05, 04, 03, 02, 01, 00, 99, + 98, 97, 96, 95, 94, 93, 92, 92, 91 or 90) + +EBooks posted since November 2003, with etext numbers OVER #10000, are +filed in a different way. The year of a release date is no longer part +of the directory path. The path is based on the etext number (which is +identical to the filename). The path to the file is made up of single +digits corresponding to all but the last digit in the filename. For +example an eBook of filename 10234 would be found at: + +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/0/2/3/10234 + +or filename 24689 would be found at: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/4/6/8/24689 + +An alternative method of locating eBooks: +<a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/GUTINDEX.ALL">https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/GUTINDEX.ALL</a> + +*** END: FULL LICENSE *** +</pre> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/17263-h/images/FIG1.JPG b/17263-h/images/FIG1.JPG Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..7a71cba --- /dev/null +++ b/17263-h/images/FIG1.JPG diff --git a/17263-h/images/FIG10.JPG b/17263-h/images/FIG10.JPG Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..fc8a076 --- /dev/null +++ b/17263-h/images/FIG10.JPG diff --git a/17263-h/images/FIG11.JPG b/17263-h/images/FIG11.JPG Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..3e7dd95 --- /dev/null +++ b/17263-h/images/FIG11.JPG diff --git a/17263-h/images/FIG12.JPG b/17263-h/images/FIG12.JPG Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..88c8112 --- /dev/null +++ b/17263-h/images/FIG12.JPG diff --git a/17263-h/images/FIG13.JPG b/17263-h/images/FIG13.JPG Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..b5102b7 --- /dev/null +++ b/17263-h/images/FIG13.JPG diff --git a/17263-h/images/FIG14.JPG b/17263-h/images/FIG14.JPG Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..08ce940 --- /dev/null +++ b/17263-h/images/FIG14.JPG diff --git a/17263-h/images/FIG15.JPG b/17263-h/images/FIG15.JPG Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..63c79b8 --- /dev/null +++ b/17263-h/images/FIG15.JPG diff --git a/17263-h/images/FIG2.JPG b/17263-h/images/FIG2.JPG Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..b26f483 --- /dev/null +++ b/17263-h/images/FIG2.JPG diff --git a/17263-h/images/FIG3.JPG b/17263-h/images/FIG3.JPG Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..03bef49 --- /dev/null +++ b/17263-h/images/FIG3.JPG diff --git a/17263-h/images/FIG4.JPG b/17263-h/images/FIG4.JPG Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..d02396d --- /dev/null +++ b/17263-h/images/FIG4.JPG diff --git a/17263-h/images/FIG5.JPG b/17263-h/images/FIG5.JPG Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..bccae3f --- /dev/null +++ b/17263-h/images/FIG5.JPG diff --git a/17263-h/images/FIG6.JPG b/17263-h/images/FIG6.JPG Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..b5f9c0f --- /dev/null +++ b/17263-h/images/FIG6.JPG diff --git a/17263-h/images/FIG7.JPG b/17263-h/images/FIG7.JPG Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..76fe828 --- /dev/null +++ b/17263-h/images/FIG7.JPG diff --git a/17263-h/images/FIG8.JPG b/17263-h/images/FIG8.JPG Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..b10bba6 --- /dev/null +++ b/17263-h/images/FIG8.JPG diff --git a/17263-h/images/FIG9.JPG b/17263-h/images/FIG9.JPG Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..136bde6 --- /dev/null +++ b/17263-h/images/FIG9.JPG |
