"Know him? Why of course I do." M. Raoul was reseating himself on his
perch, when he happened to throw a look down into the road, and at
once broke into immoderate laughter. "Talk of the wolf--"
Polly screamed and ran. Below, at a bend of the road, stood a stoutish
figure in the uniform of the Axcester Volunteers--scarlet, with white
facings. It was Corporal Zeally, very slowly taking in the scene.
M. Raoul skipped off the gate and stepped briskly past him. "Good-
evening, Corporal! We're both of us a little behind time, this
evening!" said he as he went by.
The Corporal pivoted on his heels and stared after him.
"Dang my living buttons!" he said, reflectively. "Couldn't even wait
till my back was turned, but must kiss the maid under my nose!" He
paused and rubbed his chin. "Her looked like Polly and her zounded
like Polly . . . Dang this dimpsey old light, I've got a good mind to
run after'n and ax'n who 'twas!" He took a step down the hill, but
thought better, of it. "No, I won't," he said; "I'll go and ax Polly."
CHAPTER VI
FATE IN A LAURELLED POST-CHAISE
All the tongues of Rumour agreed that the Bayfield entertainment had
been a success, and Endymion Westcote received many congratulations
upon it at the next meeting of magistrates.
"Nonsense, nonsense!" he protested lightly. "One must do something to
make life more tolerable to the poor devils, and 'pon my word 'twas
worth it to see their gratitude.
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