‘Walk!’ all exclaimed, in a tone which intimated not a little surprise at the absurdity of the idea.
‘Yes,’ repeated the lady calmly, ‘I’d rather walk. Why shouldn’t I? there is plenty of time, and the weather is beautiful. I really should enjoy it.’
‘Well, madam,’ said the Mayor, ‘if you insist upon it, of course we cannot be so rude as to prevent it. I think I may also say, on behalf of the Corpo—I beg pardon, on behalf of the committee, that if you do walk we shall all be delighted to accompany you to the railway-station.’
‘And so say all of us,’ said the Town Clerk, blushing as soon as he finished, fearing that the levity of his speech might not be acceptable to the Vicar. He was, however, delighted to find his remark received with universal assent.
‘You’re very kind,’ said the lady; ‘I am sorry to give you so much trouble.’
‘No trouble at all, madam,’ was, of course, the polite reply of the whole party.
‘You will take a little refreshment before you go?’ said the Mayor. ‘Let me offer you a glass of wine.’
‘No, I thank you, I’d rather not. I am a teetotaler.’
‘You don’t mean that,’ said the Mayor, who was a brewer, and who had ridden into place and power by means of his barrels; ‘you don’t think a glass of wine wicked, I hope?’
‘Oh no! I’m not so absurd as all that.’