“Well, that’s a cute job,” he said reflectively. “The ground is frozen stiff a foot deep. They had to break it with a crowbar, but not a sound did I hear. Shall I say anything about it? Will not the selectmen make a fuss if I don’t notify ’em at once? But what’s the use of knocking ’em up at two o’clock in the morning? The thing’s done. ’Taint my business to pull it up. The post won’t run away. I’ll report what time I found it.”
Remembering that he had not cried the hour, he shouted:—
“Two o’clock, all’s well!”
He secreted himself in a doorway awhile, to see if any one would appear, but no one came.
The early risers—the milkmen and bakers’ apprentices going their rounds, shop boys on their way to kindle fires in stores—all stopped to look at the figure. The news quickly spread. People left their breakfast-tables to see the joke played on Mr. Lillie. Ebenezer Richardson, however, could not see the fun of the thing. The schoolboys called him “Poke Nose” because he was ever ready to poke into other people’s affairs.[39] The officers of the Custom House employed him to ferret out goods smuggled ashore by merchants, who, regarding the laws as unjust and oppressive, had no scruples in circumventing the customs officers. Richardson hated the Sons of Liberty, and haunted the Green Dragon to spy out their actions.
“This is their work,” he said to those around the figure. “It’s outrageous. Mr. Lillie has just as good a right to sell tea as anything else, without having everybody pointing their fingers at him. It’s an insult. It’s disgraceful. Whoever did it ought to be trounced.”
“Charcoal! Charcoal! Hard and soft charcoal!”
It was the cry of the charcoal-man, turning from Union into Middle Street.