“You’re a fool meddling in this!” cried a voice. “We’re only going to wash the devil!”
“You will let him go!” she replied, facing them all without fear and, advancing a step, she actually plucked the man from the hands that held him. “I am Miss Audley! If you do not let him go——”
“We’re only going to wash him, lady,” whined one of the men who held him.
“That’s all, lady!” chimed in half-a-dozen. “He wants it!”
But Ben was not of that opinion, or he did not value cleanliness. “They’re going to drown me!” he spluttered, his eyes wild. All the fight had been knocked out of him. “They’re paid to do it! They’ll drown me!”
“And sarve him right!” shouted half-a-dozen at the rear of the crowd. “Sarve him right, the devil!”
“They will not do it!” Mary said firmly. “They’ll not lay another hand on you. Get in! Get in here!” And then to the crowd, “For shame!” she cried. “Stand back!”
The man was so shaken that he could not help himself, but she pushed, the driver pulled, and in a trice, before the mob had recovered from its astonishment, Ben was above their heads, on the seat of the gig—a blubbering, ragged, mud-caked figure with a white face and bleeding lips. “Go on!” Mary said in the same tone, and the gig moved forward, the old yeomanry horse tossing its head. She moved on beside it with her hand on the rail.
The mob let them pass, but closed in behind them, and after a pause began to jeer—a little in amusement, a little to cover its defeat. In a moment farce took the place of tragedy; the danger was over. “We’ll tell your wife, Ben!” screamed a youth, and the crowd laughed and followed. Other wits took their turn. “You’ll want a new coat for the wedding, Ben!” cried one. And now and again amid the laughter a sterner note survived. “We’ll ha’ you yet, Ben!” a man would cry. “You’re not out of the wood yet, Ben!”
Mary’s face burned, but she stuck to her post, plodding on beside the gig, and after this fashion the queer procession, heralded by a score of urchins crying the news, entered the streets of the town. On either side women thronged the doorways and steps, and while some cried, “Bravo, Miss!” others laughed and called to their neighbors to come out and see the sight. And still the crowd clung to the rear of the gig, and hooted and laughed and pretended to make forays on it.