“Well, gentlemen,” he said, “what do you think of that for a dalesman?”
“Well, it wasn’t long-headed, Tom,” said one unwillingly. “Not to call long-headed, so to speak,” with north-country caution. “I’d not go bail myself, not for nobody I’d not know.”
“No,” several agreed. “No, no!”
“No, but——”
“But what, Tom, what?” the doctor asked, waiting in his positive fashion for the other to plunge deeper into the mire.
“Captain Clyne, that I do know,” Gilson continued, “it was he said ‘Do it!’ And he said something to the Rector, I don’t doubt, for he was agreeable.”
“But he did not go bail for her?” the apothecary suggested maliciously.
“No,” Tom answered, breathing hard. “But for reason she was not there, but here. Anyway,” he continued, somewhat anxious to shift the subject, “he said it and I done it, and I’d do it again for Captain Clyne. I tell you he’s not a man as it’s easy to say ‘No’ to, Mr. Tyson. As these Radicals i’ Lancashire ha’ found out, ’od rot ’em! He’s that active among ’em, he’s never a letter, I’m told, but has a coffin drawn on it, and yeomanry in his house down beyond both day and night, I hear!”
“I heard,” said one, “in Cartmel market, he was to be married next week.”
“Ay,” said the doctor jocosely, “but not to the young lady as Tom is bail for! I tell you, Tom, he’s been making a fool of you just to keep this bit of evidence against the Radicals in his hands.”