'Well, I do think,' said the publican, shifting his ground, 'I do think Sir Thomas might ha' managed better in some things.'
'He tole me,'--the elderly man shouldered his way to the bar--'he tole me twenty years ago to take an' lay that font in my tool-shed. He tole me so himself. An' now, after twenty years, me own wife makin' me out little better than the common 'angman!'
'That's the sexton,' the publican explained. 'His good lady sells the postcards--if you 'aven't got some. But we feel Sir Thomas might ha' done better.'
'What's he got to do with it?' said Woodhouse.
'There's nothin' we can trace 'ome to 'im in so many words, but we think he might 'ave saved us the font business. Now, in regard to that votin' business--'
'Chuck it! Oh, chuck it!' the sexton roared, 'or you'll 'ave me cuttin' my throat at cock-crow. 'Ere's another parcel of fun-makers!'
A motor-brake had pulled up at the door and a multitude of men and women immediately descended. We went out to look. They bore rolled banners, a reading-desk in three pieces, and, I specially noticed, a collapsible harmonium, such as is used on ships at sea.
'Salvation Army?' I said, though I saw no uniforms.
Two of them unfurled a banner between poles which bore the legend: 'The Earth is flat.' Woodhouse and I turned to Bat. He shook his head. 'No, no! Not me.... If I had only seen their costumes in advance!'
'Good Lord!' said Ollyett. 'It's the genuine Society!'