Part 30 (1/2)

”I says to Martin: 'What did 'ee do, old friend?' And he says to me: 'Uncle,' he says, 'I thought my hour was come, but I legs it away so fast as I can to my lodgings....'”

At this point Uncle, being an accomplished _raconteur_, would pause.

Then he would add impressively:

”Neighbours, I don't blame 'un, although speaking for myself, I knows that I should ha' stood still, onless, maybe, I'd seen some nice lil'

ale-house handy. Well, Martin, he legs it homealong so fast as if a hornet's nest were tied to his starn-sheets, and presently he pulls up like to catch his breath. And then he takes a squint upwards. Dang me, 'tis hard to believe some true stories. But Martin Mowland do take his oath to this. He'd run the most of a mile, giving tongue, too, I'll warrant. And when he looks up, as I be a Christian man, that there Zep had follered he, and was slam bang over his head.”

”Lard preserve us! Whatever did 'un do?”

Uncle solemnly put the finis.h.i.+ng touch to the narrative.

”What did Martin do? He stands stone-still, and puts up his old umbrella.”

Many persons in the village believe to this day that Martin Mowland saved his life by putting up his ancient umbrella. Unquestionably Providence had stretched forth a Hand to preserve a worthy man who, as bricklayer, could ill be spared.

During November, it will be remembered, Conscription was admitted to be inevitable, and s.h.i.+rkers were adjured to join up before they were ”fetched.” Many did so. Near Salisbury was established a vast camp of Canadians, jolly fellows who swung, route-marching, through Nether-Applewhite, winking gaily at the girls, and setting an inspiring example to the young men still clinging to the soil.

Susan Yellam, spectacles upon nose, read all articles in her paper which dealt drastically with recalcitrants.

Would they take William Saint?

This question obsessed her. William was single and of military age. But his usefulness in the village could not be gainsaid, even by Captain Davenant. Of late, William had begun to cough, particularly in his sanded bar-parlour, or when he happened to be talking to Squire or Parson. His yellow gills confirmed the general opinion that he enjoyed poor health. Susan Yellam maintained that Willum was malingering, and deserved such obloquy as descended upon the empty head of Ezekiel Busketts, the brother of the sometime ”odd man” at Pomfret Court.

Ezekiel, presenting himself for examination before a medical board, had provided himself with an ancient truss, once the property of a deceased father. Unfortunately, he adjusted the truss so improperly that detection and ridicule fell upon him. Uncle, being distantly of kin to Ezekiel, covered his retreat with no harsher comment than this:

”'Twas a very sad mishap.”

Susan, to return to William Saint, asked for a ”sign,” which, if unfavourable, might be taken to indicate how deeply she had incurred Divine displeasure. Some people, with greater advantages than Mrs.

Yellam, believe devoutly in signs. Lionel Pomfret's slow recovery had been thankfully accepted by Susan as a sign that Satan was not having it all his own way in Nether-Applewhite. If William Saint was removed from the scene of his time-serving activities, Mrs. Yellam felt that a signal victory over the powers of Evil would have been achieved. Such a victory, in a true religious sense, would re-tighten the spiritual fibres that, before the war, had bound her so closely to Omnipotence.

Nay, more; she dared to presume that if Willum went, her Alfred would return, and pick up the scattered parcels of his good business as of yore.

She confided all this to Solomon, but not to Fancy.

Uncle furthered her wishes without any ”mumbudgetting” between brother and sister. He disliked Saint, because his ale was watered. But he liked to meet his cronies at the _Sir John Barleycorn_. Being a brave, candid fellow, with a half-interest in the V. C., he told Saint to his face what he thought of the ale.

”I likes my ale, and I bain't ashamed on't. I see eye to eye wi' this yere Horatio Bottomley about they pumpuritans, which I make bold to say includes milkmen” (Saint sold milk) ”so well as publicans. Me and Bottomley do think just alike about knaves, hypocrites, and they as grinds the face o' the pore. Much o' what I read in Johnny Bull might ha' been written by me. I comes back to my tankard o' ale.”

”You allers do, Uncle.”

”What I likes about my first tankard be this. If 'tis good ale, such as used to be set afore a man, I drinks it wi' a grateful heart, a-smackin'

my lips over the tankard to foller. If 'tis wishwash, I nourishes most onChristian feelin's, and loses my thirst.”

William Saint would reply imperturbably:

”For a patriotic man, you surprise me, Uncle. The ale is not what it was because good barley is needed for better purposes.”

”I knows nothing about that.”