“Ay, and not such as are here, Squire,” Brierly boomed. He was a tall, bulky man with an immense chin, who moved his whole body when he turned his head. “Not country clods, but Lancashire men! No throwing dust i’ their eyes!”
“Still, I hope you’ll deal with us gently,” Basset said. “Strong meat, Mr. Brierly, is not for babes. We must walk before we can run.”
“Nay, but the emptier the stomach, the more need o’ meat!” Brierly replied, and he rumbled with laughter. “An’ a bellyful I’ll give them! Truth’s truth and I’m no liar!”
“But to different minds the same words do not convey the same thing,” Basset urged.
The man stared over his stiff neck-cloth. “That’ud not go down i’ Todmorden,” he said. “Nor i’ Burnley nor i’ Bolton! We’re down-right chaps up North, and none for chopping words. Hands off the hands’ loaf, is Lancashire gospel, and we’re out to preach it! We’re out to preach it, and them that clems folk and fats pheasants may make what mouth o’er it they like!”
Fortunately the order to start came at this moment, and Basset had to fall in and move forward with Hatton, the chairman of the day. Banfield followed with the stranger, and the rest of the Committee came on two by two, the smaller men enjoying the company in which they found themselves. So they marched solemnly into the street, a score of Hatton’s men forming a guard of honor, and a long tail of the riff-raff of the town falling in behind with orange flags and favors. These at a certain signal set up a shrill cheer, a band struck up “See, the Conquering Hero Comes!” and the sixteen gentlemen marched, some proudly and some shamefacedly, into the wider street, wherein a cart drawn up at the foot of the Maypole awaited them.
On such occasions Englishmen out of uniform do not show well. The daylight streamed without pity on the Committee as they stalked or shambled along in their Sunday clothes, and Basset at least felt the absurdity of the position. With the tail of his eye he discerned that the stranger was taking off a large white hat, alternately to the right and left, in acknowledgment of the cheers of the crowd, while ominous sniggers of laughter mingled here and there with the applause. Banfield’s men, with another hundred or so of the town idlers, were gathered about the cart, but of the honest and intelligent voters there were scanty signs.
The crowd greeted the appearance of each of the principals with cheers and a shaft or two of Stafford wit.
“Hooray! Hooray!” shouted Hatton’s men as he climbed into the cart.
“Hatton’s a great man now!” a bass voice threw in.