"That friend o' yours is a wonnur!" preluded Mr Philp.
"Meanin' Caius Hocken?"
"Who else? . . . He's goin' a great pace in these days; but you won't tell me he has flown out o' that range? Yes, 'tis Cap'n Hocken I mean; our Mayor, as you may call him; and there's some as looks to see a silver cradle yet in his mayoralty."
"What's the latest?" 'Bias could not help putting the question, yet despised himself for it.
"He's President of the Stevedores' Regatta this year."
"Get along with your news—I heard it ten days ago."
"So you did, for I told you myself. But he's giving a silver cup for the fourteen-foot race."
"And I heard that, too."
"Ay: but what you don't know, maybe, is that he's been up to Rilla Farm tryin' to persuade Mrs Bosenna to attend on the Committee-ship an' hand the cup—his cup—to the winner."
"She's never consented?"