The apparition of a file of soldiers ringing down the but-ends of their

loaded muskets on our door-step, caused the dinner-party to rise

from table in confusion, and caused Mrs. Joe re-entering the kitchen

empty-handed, to stop short and stare, in her wondering lament of

"Gracious goodness gracious me, what's gone--with the--pie!"

The sergeant and I were in the kitchen when Mrs. Joe stood staring;

at which crisis I partially recovered the use of my senses. It was

the sergeant who had spoken to me, and he was now looking round at the

company, with his handcuffs invitingly extended towards them in his

right hand, and his left on my shoulder.

"Excuse me, ladies and gentleman," said the sergeant, "but as I have

mentioned at the door to this smart young shaver," (which he hadn't), "I

am on a chase in the name of the king, and I want the blacksmith."

"And pray what might you want with him?" retorted my sister, quick to

resent his being wanted at all.

"Missis," returned the gallant sergeant, "speaking for myself, I should

reply, the honor and pleasure of his fine wife's acquaintance; speaking

for the king, I answer, a little job done."

This was received as rather neat in the sergeant; insomuch that Mr.

Pumblechook cried audibly, "Good again!"

"You see, blacksmith," said the sergeant, who had by this time picked

out Joe with his eye, "we have had an accident with these, and I find

the lock of one of 'em goes wrong, and the coupling don't act pretty.

As they are wanted for immediate service, will you throw your eye over

them?"

Joe threw his eye over them, and pronounced that the job would

necessitate the lighting of his forge fire, and would take nearer

two hours than one, "Will it? Then will you set about it at once,

blacksmith?" said the off-hand sergeant, "as it's on his Majesty's

service. And if my men can bear a hand anywhere, they'll make themselves

useful." With that, he called to his men, who came trooping into the

kitchen one after another, and piled their arms in a corner. And then

they stood about, as soldiers do; now, with their hands loosely clasped

before them; now, resting a knee or a shoulder; now, easing a belt or a

pouch; now, opening the door to spit stiffly over their high stocks, out

into the yard.

All these things I saw without then knowing that I saw them, for I

was in an agony of apprehension. But beginning to perceive that the

handcuffs were not for me, and that the military had so far got the

better of the pie as to put it in the background, I collected a little

more of my scattered wits.




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