“I heard you call her that once when we were at school,” and Miss Ellison tittered; “I believe she’ll make the whole town swallow the past.”
“Will she—indeed!”
“You don’t relish the idea?”
“Wait, my dear girl; we have not seen the end of the game yet.”
CHAPTER XXXIII
Roxton, like a certain lady of literary fame, was ever ready with its free opinions on any subject that it did not understand. The return of the Murchisons had exercised the town’s capacity for criticism, and inaugurated a debate that was to be heard at public-house bars, as well as in the parlors of the pious. The facts of the case were generally agreed upon; but facts are things that the ingenious mind of man can juggle with. The complexion of the affair varied with the convictions of the debater, and the sacred incidents of home life profaned or honored according to the temper of the tongue that dealt with them.
In Mill Lane the case had a most energetic exponent in the person of Mr. William Bains, the sweep. A certain brewer’s drayman, who had won some crude celebrity as an atheist, had taken upon himself to argue on the adverse side. The two gentlemen squared to each other one evening at the bottom of the lane, and thrashed it out strenuously before a meagre but attentive crowd.
“What about the inquest? Didn’t we read the ’ole of it in the Mail and Times? Yer can’t get away from facts, can yer?”
“And supposin’ he did make a mistake for once, does that mean callin’ a man a fool and a danger to the public? Who drove his cart last week into a pillar-box by Wilson’s grocery shop?”
Mr. Bains scored a palpable hit. The audience laughed.