Part 25 (2/2)

The change was discussed with some asperity in the bar-parlour of the ”Man-o'-War.”

”The hupper cla.s.ses in Troy es bloomin' fine nowadays,” remarked Rechab Geddye (locally known as Rekkub) over his beer on the night when the resignations of Mr. Buzza Junior and Mr. Moggridge had been received by the ”Jolly Trojans.”

”Ef they gets the leastest bit finer, us shan't be able to see mun,”

answered Bill Odgers, who was reckoned a wit. ”I have heerd tell as Trojans was cousins an' hail-fellow-well-met all the world over; but the hayleet o' this place es a-gettin' a bit above itsel'.”

”That's a true word, Bill,” interposed Mrs. Dymond from the bar; ”an'

to say 'Gie us this day our daily bread,' an' then turn up a nose at good saffron cake es flyin' i' the face o' Pruvvidence, an' no less.”

”I niver knawed good to come o' t.i.tled gentry yet,” said Bill.

”You doan't say that?” exclaimed Rekkub, who was an admirer of Bill's Radical views.

”I do, tho'. Look at King Richard--him i' the play-actin'. I reckon he was wan o' the hupper ten ef anybody. An' what does he do?

Why, throttles a pair o' babbies, puts a gen'l'm'n he'd a gridge agen into a cask o' wine--which were the spoliation o' both--murders 'most ivery wan he claps eyes on, an' then when he've a-got the jumps an'

sees the sperrits an' blue fire, goes off an' offers to swap hes whole bloomin' kingdom for a hoss--a hoss, mind you, he hadn' seen, let alone not bein' in a state o' mind to jedge hoss-flesh.

What's true o' kings I reckon es true o' Hon'rubbles; they'm all reared up to the same high notions, an' I reckon us'll find et out afore long. I niver seed no good in makin' Troy fash'nubble mysel'.”

CHAPTER XIII.

THE SIGNIFICANCE OF POMEROY'S CAT; AND HOW THE MEN AND WOMEN OF TROY ENSUED AFTER PLEASURE IN BOATS.

The historian of Troy here feels at liberty to pa.s.s over six weeks with but scanty record. During that time the Banks.h.i.+re rose bloomed over Kit's House, peered in at the windows, and found Mr. Fogo for the most part busied in peaceful carpentry, though with a mysterious trouble in his breast that at times drove him afield on venturous perambulations, or to his boat to work off by rowing his too-meditative fit. From these excursions he would return tired in body but in heart eased, and resume his humdrum life tranquilly enough; though Caleb was growing uneasy, and felt it necessary, more than once, to retire apart and ”have et out,” as he put it, with his conscience.

”Question es,” he would repeat, ”whether I be justyfied in meddlin'

wi' the Cou'se o' Natur'--'speshully when the Cou'se o' Natur' es sich as I approves. An' s'posin' I bain't, furder question es, whether I be right in receivin' wan pound a week an' a new set o'

small-clothes.”

This nice point in casuistry was settled for the time by his waiving claim to the small-clothes, and inserting in his old pair a patch of blue seacloth that contrasted extravagantly with the veteran stuff-- so extravagantly as to compel Mr. Fogo's attention.

”Does it never strike you,” he asked one day as Caleb was stooping over the wood-pile, ”that the repairs in your trousers, Caleb, are a trifle emphatic? _Purpureus, late qui splendeat_--h'm, h'm-- _adsuitur pannus_. I mean, in the seat of your--”

”Conscience, sir,” said Caleb abruptly. ”Some ties a bit o' string round the finger to help the mem'ry. I does et this way.”

”Well, well, I should have thought it more apt to a.s.sist the memory of others. Still, of course, you know best.”

And Mr. Fogo resumed his work, and thought no more about it; but Caleb alternated between moods of pensiveness and fussy energy for some days after.

In Troy, summer was leading on a train of events not to be cla.s.sed among periodic phenomena. It stands on record, for instance--

That Loo began to be played at the Club, and the Admiral's weekly accounts to grow less satisfactory than in the days when he and Mrs.

Buzza were steadfast opponents at Whist.

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