Master Bates whipped out a pea-shooter,
and blew a pea on to the exposed lobe of the sleeper's ear.
"D--n!" roared the corpulent one, leaping up in wrath. But we were
in hiding behind the yard-wall before he could pull the bandanna from
his face.
"He's the bailiff," explained Master Bates. "He's in possession.
Oh, you'll get quite friendly with him in time. Down in the town
they call him Mother Stimcoe's lodger, he comes so often. But, I
say, don't go and blow the gaff on the old girl."
On our way to the coach-office that evening I felt--as the saying
is--my heart in my mouth. Miss Plinlimmon spoke sympathetically of
Mr. Stimcoe's state of health, and with delicacy of his
absent-mindedness, "so natural in a scholar." I discovered long
afterwards that Mr. Stimcoe, having retired to cash a note for her,
had brought back a strong smell of brandy and eighteen-pence less
than the strict amount of her change. I knew in my heart that my new
schoolmaster and his wife were a pair of frauds, and yet I choked
down the impulse to speak. Perhaps Master Bates's loyalty kept me on
my mettle.
The dear soul and I bade one another farewell, she not without tears.
The coach bore her away; and I walked back through the crowded
streets with my spirits down in my boots, and my fists thrust deep
into the pockets of my small-clothes.
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