"In my judgment," declared Nathan, "'twas Jack Head that played the mischief with the show. After parson cooled him down at rehearsal, I allow he went a bit lighter on his part and didn't act quite so forcible, but well I knew he was saving it up for the night; and so he was. 'Twas all Jack all the time, and even when he was supposed to be dead, he must still keep growling to make the people laugh. He's had a right down row with Mr. Masterman since."
"A make-strife sort of man; and yet a cheerful man; and yet, again, a very rebellious man against the powers," said Voysey.
"Well, 'tis over and it shows, like everything else do, how much may grow out of little," added Nathan. "Just a bit of fun at Christmas, you'd say, wouldn't leave no very great mark, yet—look at it—how far-reaching."
"It's brought the eyes of the county on us, as I said it would," replied the parish clerk. "The Rural Dean was here afterwards and took his luncheon at the vicarage and came to the church to see the font-cover; but Nancy Mumford—maiden to the vicarage—waits at table, and she told my sister that his reverence said to Mr. Masterman that we'd fallen between two stools and that the performance was a sort of a mongrel between a modern pantomime and the old miracle play, and that the masks and such-like were out of order. And Miss Masterman was a bit acid with the Rural Dean and said, to his face, that if he'd only had to see the thing through, as they had, she was sure that he'd be more charitable like about it."
"Us shan't have no more play-acting, mark me," foretold Joe Voysey; then others entered the bar, among them being Saul Luscombe from Trowlesworthy and Heathman Lintern. The warrener was on his way home and stayed only for a pint and a few friendly words.
"You should hear Jack Head tell about the play," he said.
"And he should hear us tell about him," answered Voysey. "Jack, so near as damn it, spoilt the play. In fact, innkeeper here thinks he did do so."
"He vows that he saved the whole job from being a hugeous failure. And young farmer Waite swears 'twas Miss Lintern as the Princess that saved it; and Mr. Ned, your nephew, Nathan—he swears 'twas himself that saved it."
"And I think 'twas I that saved it," declared Thomas. "However, enough said. 'Tis of the past and will soon be forgot, like a dead man out of mind."
"That's where you're wrong, Tom," said Heathman. "You can't forget a thing so easy. Besides, there's all that hangs to it. There's Polly Baskerville, that was one of Cora's maidens in the play, got engaged to be married on the strength of it—to Nick Bassett—him as waited on the Turkish Knight. And now—bigger news still for me and mine. Cora's taken Ned Baskerville!"