Sunday Morning at the `Peacock'

EVERYONE was on his best behaviour, and of the nine of us who sat in the sunlit little bar of the ' Peacock Inn ' no fewer than six wore collars and ties.

Of these Sabbath adornments, Old William's was un- doubtedly the finest ; a purple bow, arranged with just that touch of abandon which differentiates the sartorial artist from the dressed-up individual, over a hard-boiled shining shirt. They made a handsome pair, Old William and his collie. And when Old William spoke, no matter on what topic, other conversations languished.

" Yes," Old William was saying as the stranger entered and seated himself unobtrusively by the window, " she were murdered. No doubt of it at all. Who says she weren't ? "

Nobody said that. She was murdered, certainly.

" What I say," continued Old William, stroking his collie's silky yellow ears with one hand and tapping smartly on the bench with the other, " she were mur- dered under my very eyes, and me with Parson's red cockerel ;:n my hand as sure as I sits here. Do anybody deny that ? "

No. Nobody denied it.

" Well, believe me or not, sir, as you likes," said Old William, turning to the stranger, in a tense silence, " never got a ha'penny composition from that day to this. Not a ha'penny."

Everyone heaved a deep sigh and said "Ah ! " except the stranger, who was too mystified to say anything.

Not a ha'penny composition ? It seemed very unfor- tunate. Then a young, blue-eyed ploughman shook his head and coughed. Everyone looked at him.

" The roads," he said, realizing that he was expected to say something, " the roads is not what they was. Not for dogs, as you might say."

" Not for dogs," assented the man sitting next to him. Then he had an afterthought, and added, " Nor not for pedesterans as well, if you was to ask me."

" It's them moty-cars," said Old William suddenly, in an unexpectedly savage tone. " What did I say when they come on to the road first, hey ? What did I say thirty year ago ? "

Everyone nodded and looked wise. But nobody knew what Old William had said : a heavy, thirst-quenching silence, therefore.

" I said," pursued Old William, an expression of gloomy triumph overshadowing his face, " I said, ' Them moty-cars is a invention of the Devil hisself, but the Lord God of Israel will not put up with them for ever,' that is what I said. And no more he will. Do anybody deny that my dog Bess were murdered in cold blood ? She were a sister of this one," Old William added for the stranger's benefit.'

Nobody denied anything, and Old William lapsed into a brooding silence, interrupted only by the periodic voicing of his firm belief that the Lord God of Israel would not stand much more of it. This left the rest of us free to discuss one or two other topics of importance, and everything went smoothly till a voice, that of the young blue-eyed ploughman, was raised in derisive comment on what a little man in the corner had said about " the right to eat a apple if she hang into your garden."

" It ain't sense," said the young ploughman hotly. " Mean to tell me, if I grows a apple tree, and some of the apples hangs over the wall into your garden, you has a right to eat them ? "

" It's the law," answered the little man, disclaiming all responsibility with a calm air of finality. " You can't get round the law." " Ah, but is it the law, Tom ? " said one of the collar- less, mournfully. " You be invading the point. Is it the law ? "

" 'Course it is," said the little man sharply. " If you was to inquire in London you would find it was the law all right."

The collarless one leant forward and pointed a dramatic finger at the little man. " Them which wishes it to be the law," he said with slow deliberation, " makes it so. If I am not mistook, Little Tom, them apple pies which you and your Missis has been feeding on all through the winter, was due, no more and no less, to a apple tree which growed in old Mrs. Hannaway's garden."

" It's a damn lie ! " shouted Little Tom, bringing his fist down on the table with a crash. " I never touched 'em. It's a damn lie, so it is ! "

The collarless one beamed round the company.

" We all thought you was in your rights eating them apples," he said with a slow wink at the stranger. " What come over you then ? "

The little man's reply was drowned in a roar of laughter. The point was settled.

" She were murdered—" began Old William ; but as nobody looked as though he were going to deny it, Old William stopped and made a sign with his hand instead. The barman knew what this meant, and came across, looking inquiringly at the stranger's glass. " Yes, the same again, please," agreed the latter. So that point was settled.

Outside the ' Peacock' a flock of white geese was cropping the village green. A church clock chimed one.

" Well, my Meg has roast beef Sundays," said the young blue-eyed ploughman. " One o'clock sharp. I dunno 'bout anyone else." He went out into the sunlight.

" There," said an old nut-faced gentleman who had not hitherto spoken, " that's what come of getting married afore the proper time. She don't give him a chance. Been following this last divorce what's in the London papers, Tom ? "

" Ah ! " said everyone.

" Now that is what I calls a proper disgraceful affair," said the man in the corner. " A regular mix-up. What does you say, William ? "

" Things is not what they was," said Old William.

H. M.