The Mayor of Troy | Page 7

reason of her clogs), when the man overtook her,
flung an arm around her neck, and forcibly kissed her. Breaking away
from him, she discovered it was her own husband.
"Then where's the harm?" asked the Mayor.
"But, please your Worship, he took me for another woman."
"Then you must cite the other woman."
"Arrah now, and how the divvle, saving your Worship'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 Worship saw the woman, then? If I'd known your Worship 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 shores, might mistake them for soldiery? It was pretty,
I tell you, to walk the coast-track on a warm afternoon and pass 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