The Astonishing History of Troy Town | Page 4

snapped her husband, "you speak like a fool. Pooh! Let me
tell you, ma'am, that our ways in Troy are not humble!"
Outside, in Miss Limpenny's back garden, the laurestinus bushes sighed
as they caught those ominous words. So might Eden have sighed,
aware of its serpent.
CHAPTER II.
HOW AN ADMIRAL TOOK ONE GENTLEMAN FOR ANOTHER,
AND WAS TOLD THE DAY OF THE MONTH.
Next morning, almost before the sun was up, all Troy was in possession
of the news; and in Troy all that is personal has a public interest. It is
this local spirit that marks off the Trojan from all other minds.
In consequence long before ten o'clock struck, it was clear that some
popular movement was afoot; and by half-past eleven the road to the
railway station was crowded with Trojans of all sorts and
conditions--boatmen, pilots, fishermen, sailors out of employ, the local
photographer, men from the ship-building yards, makers of ship's

biscuit, of ropes, of sails, chandlers, block and pump manufacturers,
loafers--representatives, in short, of all the staple industries: women
with baskets--women with babies, women with both, even a few
farmers in light gigs with their wives, or in carts with their families, a
sprinkling from Penpoodle, across the harbour--high and low, Church
and Dissent, with children by the hundred. Some even proposed to ring
the church bells and fire the cannon at the harbour's mouth; but the
ringers and artillerymen preferred to come and see the sight. As it was,
the "George" floated proudly from the church tower, and the Fife and
Drum Temperance Band stood ready at the corner of East Street. All
Troy, in fact, was on tip-toe.
Meanwhile, as few in the crowd possessed Burke or Debrett, the
information that passed from mouth to mouth was diverse and peculiar,
but, as was remarked by a laundress in the crowd to a friend: "He may
be the Pope o' Rome, my dear, an' he may be the Dook o' Wellington,
an' not a soul here wud know t'other from which no mor'n if he was
Adam. All I says is--the Lord send he's a professin' Christian, an' has
his linen washed reg'lar. My! What a crush! I only wish my boy Jan
was here to see; but he's stayin' at home, my dear, cos his father means
to kill the pig to-day, an' the dear child do so love to hear'n screech."
The Admiral, who happened by the merest chance to be sauntering
along the Station Road this morning, in his best blue frock-coat with a
flower in the buttonhole, corrected some of the rumours, but without
much success. Finding the throng so thick, he held a long debate
between curiosity and dignity. The latter won, and he returned to No. 2,
Alma Villas, in a flutter, some ten minutes before the train was due.
By noon the crowd was growing impatient. But hardly had the church
clock chimed the hour when the shriek of a whistle was heard from up
the valley. Amid wild excitement a puff of white smoke appeared, then
another, and finally the mid-day train steamed serenely into the station.
As it drew up, a mild spectacled face appeared at the window of a
first-class carriage, and asked--
"Is this Troy?"

"Yessir--terminus. Any luggage, sir?"
The mild face got out. It belonged to the only stranger in the train.
"There is only a black portmanteau," said he. "Ah, that is it. I shall want
it put in the cloakroom for an hour or two while I go into the town."
The stranger gave up his ticket--a single ticket--and stepped outside the
station. He was a mild, thin man, slightly above middle height, with
vacant eyes and a hesitating manner. He wore a black suit, a rather
rusty top-hat, and carried a silk umbrella.
"Here he comes!"
"Look, that's him!"
"Give 'un a cheer, boys."
"Hip, hip, hoor-roar!"
The sound burst upon the clear sky in a deafening peal. The stranger
paused and looked confused.
"Dear me!" he murmured to himself, "the population here seems to be
excited about something--and, bless my soul, what a lot of it there is!"
He might well say so. Along the road, arms, sticks, baskets, and
handkerchiefs were frantically waving; men shouting and children
hurrahing with might and main. Windows were flung up; heads
protruded; flags waved in frenzied welcome. The tumult was
stupendous. There was not a man, woman, or child in Troy but felt the
demonstration must be hearty, and determined to make it a success.
"What can have caused this riot?"
The stranger paused with a half-timid air, but after a while resumed his
walk. The shouts broke out again, and louder than ever.
"Welcome, welcome to Troy! Hooroar! One more, lads! Hooroar!" and

all the handkerchiefs waved anew.
"Bless my