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Five miserable-looking individuals were marshalled into the courtyard, officered by the valiant Bardolph. Whether Master Shallow’s arithmetic had been at fault, and he had calculated erroneously as to the addition of two and three; whether there was a scarcity of men in the neighbourhood; or whether one of the original number had deserted, is doubtful. However, it is certain that of the half-dozen recruits asserted to be in readiness only five made their appearance.
Master Shallow proceeded to call over the muster roll—not appearing to notice the deficiency.
“Ralph Mouldy—let me see. Where is Ralph Mouldy?”
“Here, if it please you.”
Mr. Mouldy’s voice and expression of countenance declared plainly that it didn’t please him.
Mouldy was in all probability a dangerous poacher, so anxious was the worthy magistrate to recommend him for military service.
“What think you, Sir John? A good limbed fellow; young, strong, and of good friends.”
The last recommendation decided Sir John at once. Mouldy would do.
“Is thy name Mouldy?”