The Scarlet Pimpernel

with slow deliberation, and presented alternately to the glow every side of a noble sirloin of beef. The two little kitchen-maids bustled around, eager to help, hot and p

k, kept up a long and subdued grumble, while she

ful if none too melodious accen

y, with a good-humoured laugh, "wha

"you don't 'xpect Jimmy Pitkin to

le kitchen-maids; and her beady black eyes twinkled as they met those of her

ms were itching, evidently, to come in contact with Martha's rosy cheeks-but inherent good-humour pr

Sally! h

hands against the oak tables of the coffee-room, ac

ent voice, "are ye goin' to be

couple of foam-crowned jugs from the shelf, and began filling a number of pewter tankards with some of that home-brewed

th Mr. 'Empseed to worry 'isself about you and

etting her frilled cap at its most becoming angle over her dark curls; then she took up the tankards by their hand

bustle and activity which kept four women

ears and the craze of the age have since bestowed upon it. Yet it was an old place, even then, for the oak rafters and beams were already black with age-as were the panelled seats, with their tall backs, and the long polished tables between,

, the brass above the gigantic hearth, shone like silver and gold-the red-tiled floor was as brilliant as the scarlet geranium on the window sill-this meant that his serva

nd displaying a row of dazzling white teeth, she

What ho, Sally! Hurr

f yours," muttered Jimmy Pitkin, as he passed

ushin'" A chorus of good-humoured laughter greeted this witticism, which gave the company there present food for many jokes, for some considerable time. Sally now seemed in less of a hurry to get back to her pots and pans. A young man with fair

nd great-grandfather too, for that matter. Portly in build, jovial in countenance and somewhat bald of pate, Mr. Jellyband was indeed a typical rural John Bull of those days-the days when our prejudiced insular

istcoat, with shiny brass buttons, the corduroy breeches, and grey worsted stockings and smart buckled shoes, that characterised every self-respecting innkeeper in Great Britain in these days-and whil

n every corner, the faces of Mr. Jellyband's customers appeared red and pleasant to look at, and on good terms with themselves, their host and all the world; from every side of the room loud guffaws

counts for their parched throats when on shore, but "The Fisherman's Rest" was something more than a rendezvous for these humble folk. The London and Dover coach started from the hoste

rents of rain had deluged the south of England, doing its level best to ruin what chances the apples and pears and late plums had of becoming really fine,

h a wet September, Mr. Jel

political arguments, but throughout the neighborhood, where his learning and notably his knowledge of the Scriptures was held in the most profound awe and respect. With one hand buried in the capacious pockets of his co

"I dunno, Mr. 'Empseed, as I ever did. An' I

nterposed Mr. Hempseed. "I dunno as I ever see'd an infant take much note of the weather, l

estable that for the moment Mr. Jellyband wa

it?" continued Mr. Hempseed, dolefully, as a sho

"but then what can you 'xpect, Mr. 'Empseed,

wisdom, tempered by deeply-rooted mistrust of

to sich wet weather in September, and all me fruit a-rottin' and a-dying' like the 'Guptian mother's first born, and doin' no more good than they did, pore dears, save a lot

the Channel yonder a-murderin' their king and nobility, and Mr. Pitt and Mr. Fox and Mr. Burke a-fightin' and a-wranglin' between

ellyband's political arguments, wherein he always got out of his depth, and had but little chance for displaying those pearls of w

t lets 'ave sich rain in September, for that i

ry, 'ow you m

moment when Mr. Hempseed was collecting his breath, in order to deliver himself one of those Scriptural utt

force a frown upon his good-humoured face, "stop that foo

ettin' on all

, who would in God's good time become the owner of "The Fisherman's Rest," than to see her

de the inn dared to disobey. "Get on with my Lord Tony's supper, for, if it ai

tly Sall

ked Jimmy Pitkin, in a loyal attempt to divert his host's attentio

sses from over the water yonder, whom the young lord and his friend, Sir Andrew Ffoulk

h for Mr. Hempseed's

wonder? I don't 'old not with interferin' i

sarcasm, "as you're a personal friend of Mr. Pitt, and a

feebly protested Mr. Hemps

etting upon his favourite hobby-horse, and h

chaps 'oo they do say have come over here o' purpose

. Jellyband," suggested Mr

e land. And now look at 'im!-'E made friends with some o' them frog-eaters, 'obnobbed with them just as if they was Englishmen, and not just a lot of immoral, Godforsak

ain interposed Mr. Hempseed fe

n apparently by their clothes-had pushed aside their half-finished game of dominoes, and had been listening for some time, and evidently with much amusement at Mr. Jellyband's internati

I think you called them-are mighty clever fellows to have made mincemeat so to speak

t said, 'ave got the gift of gab-and Mr. 'Empseed 'ere will tell you 'ow

, Mr. Hempseed?" inquir

uch irritated, "I dunno as I can gi

y worthy host, that these clever spies will not s

imity. He burst into an uproarious fit of laughter, whic

his sides ached, and his eyes streamed. "At me! hark at that! Did ye 'ear 'im say that

tentiously, "you know what the Scriptures say

f ale with one o' them murderin' Frenchmen, and nothin' 'd make me change my opinions. Why! I've 'eard it said that them frog-eaters can't even speak the King's Engli

too sharp, and a match for any twenty Frenchmen, and here's to your very good health

d, wiping his eyes which were still streaming with the

ards full of wine, and having offered on

e played round the corners of his thin lips-"loyal as we are, we must ad

us deny that, sir,

and, our worthy host, Mr. Jellyband," sa

hands, and mugs and tankards made a rattling music upon the tables to the accompaniment

God-forsaken furriner!-What?-Lud love yo

ous suggestion that anyone could ever upset Mr. Jellyband's firmly-rooted opinions