"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.