"I'm very pleased to have been the humble instrument of expressing your views in a word, gentlemen," he began. "And now arises the question of the nature of the pageant."
"The Goose Club might walk, for one thing," suggested Mr. Prout.
"It shall," answered Pearn; "as the president of the Goose Club, I can promise that."
"And I'll speak for the Ancient Dartymoor Druids—Lydford Branch," said Jacob Taverner. "But I won't promise the banner if the day be wet. It cost three pounds, and wouldn't stand weather."
"That's very good to begin with, I'm sure," declared Mr. Churchward; then old Huggins made his first contribution to the debate.
"Us must have brass moosic, souls. There's nought like trumpets—they'll carry off anything. I mind when Jimmy Briggs was buried there never was a poorer funeral—nought but five or six humble creatures behind, and me an' a few other men to carry him. But, just as we stopped to change hands, what should go by but a four-hoss coach! And the guard didn't see us, and blowed a sudden blast as would sartainly have made us drop the carpse if he hadn't been on the ground for the moment. But there 'twas; it gave a great grandeur to the scene, and comforted the mourners, like the Trump of Doom."
"Brass music, of course," said Jarratt Weekes. "The Okehampton Yeomanry band is very good, and their black and silver uniforms would look fine in the show."
"They'll cost a pot of money; that's the worst of them," said the postmaster.
"As to that, my dear Spry, we must, of course, approach the subject in a large and hopeful spirit. When everything is arranged I shall propose an appeal to the district. I have thought of this, too, and, I consider, if we can collect thirty to forty pounds, that should cover all expenses."
Mr. Churchward it was who spoke.