He addressed a young, good-looking, dark man, who farmed land in the parish, and dwelt a few miles off.
Mr. Waite laughed and nodded.
"Right—I'll try."
"Well done! Now"—Mr. Masterman smiled and looked at Jack Head—"will Mr. Head play the Bear—to oblige us all?"
Everybody laughed, including Jack himself.
"The very living man for Bear!" cried Mr. Luscombe. "I command you, Jack, to be Bear!"
"You ain't got much to do but growl and fight, Jack, and you're a oner at both," said Heathman.
"Well, I've said my say," returned Mr. Head, "and I was in a minority. But since this parish wants for me to be Bear, I'll Bear it out so well as I can; and if I give St. George a bit of a hug afore he bowls me over, he mustn't mind that."
"Capital! Thank you, Jack Head. Now, who'll be Father Christmas? I vote for Mr. Nathan Baskerville."
Applause greeted the suggestion, but Miss Masterman bent over from her seat and whispered to her brother. He shook his head, however, and answered under his breath.