Part 2 (1/2)

”But, please your Wors.h.i.+p, he took me for another woman.”

”Then you must cite the other woman.”

”Arrah now, and how the divvle, saving your Wors.h.i.+p's presence, will I cite the hussy, seein' I never clapt eyes on her?”

”No difficulty at all. To begin with, she was wearing clogs.”

”And so would nine women out of ten be wearin' clogs in last night's weather.”

”And next, she was lifting the skirt of her gown high, to let the folks admire her ankles.”

”Your Wors.h.i.+p saw the woman, then? If I'd known your Wors.h.i.+p to be within hail--”

”I think I know the woman. And so do you, Mrs. Mennear, if you can think of one in this town that's vain as yourself of her foot and ankle, and with as good a right.”

”There's not one,” said Mrs. Mennear positively.

”Oh yes, there is. Go back home, like a sensible soul, and maybe you'll find her there.”

”The villain! Ye'll not be tellin' me he's dared--” Mrs. Mennear came near to choke.

”And small blame to him,” said the Mayor with a twinkle. ”Will you go home, Sarah Mennear, and be humble, and ask her pardon?”

”Will I sclum her eyes out, ye mane!” cried Sarah, fairly dancing.

”Go home, foolish wife!” The Mayor was not smiling now, and his voice took on a terrible sternness. ”The woman I mean is the woman John Mennear married, or thought he married; the woman that aforetime had kept her own counsel though he caught and kissed her in a dimmety corner of the street; the woman that swore to love, honour and obey him, not she that tongue-drove him to the 'King of Prussia,' with his own good liquor to keep him easy at home. Drunk he must have been to mistake the one for t'other; and I'm willing to fine him for drunkenness. But cite that other woman here before you ask me for a separation order, and I'll grant it; and I'll warrant when John sees you side by side, he won't oppose it.”

Here and there our Mayor had his detractors, no doubt. What public man has not? He incurred the reproach of pride, for instance, when he appeared, one wet day, carrying an umbrella, the first ever seen in Troy. A Guernsey merchant had presented him with this novelty (I may whisper here that our Mayor did something more than connive at the free trade) and patently it kept off the rain. But would it not attract the lightning? Many, even among his well-wishers, shook their heads. For their part they would have accepted the gift, but it should never have seen the light: they would have locked it away in their chests.

Oddly enough the Mayor nourished his severest censor in his own household. The rest of us might quote his wit, his wisdom, might defer to him as a being, if not superhuman, at least superlative among men; but Cai Tamblyn would have none of it. He had found one formula to answer all our praises.

”_Him_? Why, I knawed him when he was _so_ high!”

Nor would he hesitate, in the Mayor's presence, from translating it into the second person.

”_You_? Why, I knawed you when you was _so_ high!”

Yet the Mayor retained him in his service, which sufficiently proves his magnanimity.

He could afford to be magnanimous, being adored.

Who but he could have called a public meeting and persuaded the ladies of the town to enroll themselves in a brigade and patrol the cliffs in red cloaks during harvest, that the French, if perchance they approached our sh.o.r.es, might mistake them for soldiery? It was pretty, I tell you, to walk the coast-track on a warm afternoon and pa.s.s these sentinels two hundred yards apart, each busy with her knitting.

Of all the marks left on our town by Major Hymen's genius, the Port Hospital, or the idea of it, proved (as it deserved) to be the most enduring. The Looe Volunteers might pride themselves on their longevity--at the best a dodging of the common lot.

We, characteristically, thought first of death and wounds.

As the Major put it, at another public meeting: ”There are risks even in handling the explosives generously supplied to us by Government.

But suppose--and the supposition is surely not extravagant--that history should repeat itself; that our ancient enemy should once again, as in 1456, thunder at _this_ gate of England. He will thunder in vain, gentlemen! (Loud applause.) As a wave from the cliff he will draw back, hissing, from the iron mouths of our guns.