"Make way for the Admiral!" "Out of the road, there!"
"The Admiral's going to speak!" "Silence for the Admiral!"
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--
"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.
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