After that, for some moments, the only sound was the gentle ripple of the good lady's voice and the little man's caustic replies.
“Why, last winter the country was full of Red Wull's doings and yours. It was always M'Adam and his Red Wull have done this and that and the other. I declare I got quite tired of you both, I heard such a lot about you.”
The little man, cap in hand, smiled, blushed and looked genuinely pleased.
“And when it wasn't you it was Mr. Moore and Owd Bob.”
“Owd Bob, bless him!” called a stentorian voice. “There cheers for oor Bob!”
“'Ip! 'ip! 'ooray!” It was taken up gallantly, and cast from mouth to mouth; and strangers, though they did not understand, caught the contagion and cheered too; and the uproar continued for some minutes.
When it was ended Lady Eleanour was standing up, a faint flush on her cheeks and her eyes flashing dangerously, like a queen at bay.
“Yes,” she cried, and her clear voice thrilled through the air like a trumpet. “Yes; and now three cheers for Mr. M'Adam and his Red Wull! Hip! hip—”
“Hooray!” A little knowt of stalwarts at the back—James Moore, Parson Leggy, Jim Mason, and you may be sure in heart, at least, Owd Bob—responded to the call right lustily. The crowd joined in; and, once off, cheered and cheered again.
“Three cheers more for Mr. M'Adam!”