"Good old Mrs. Pouncey!" "Who said profiteer?" "Noakes raised Widow
Pouncey's rent!" "Chuck him out!" "Get out, old crocodile!"
The hall rang with various cries. Eves, smiling broadly, glanced at the
thermometer The mercury touched 76 deg.. Noakes leant forward over the
table, and shaking his fists, roared:
"As chairman of this meeting, and Mayor of Pudlington, here I be, and
here I bide."
He started back suddenly, putting a finger between his collar and his
neck, and looking upward. Next moment he dropped his head and brushed a
drop of water from his nose. Several of the platform party turned their
faces up, started back, and upset their chairs. Two or three thin
streams of water, as from the eyelets in the spray of a shower bath,
were descending from the unplastered ceiling. Noakes edged a little to
the left, and was opening his mouth again, when with a hiss and clatter
like a heavy shower of rain upon a glass house, the whole contents of
Templeton's experimental tank poured down between the laths of the
matchboard. Noakes gasped and spluttered, the ladies of his party
shrieked, all the occupants of the platform stampeded like a flock of
sheep, overturning their chairs, obstructing one another in their mad
flight for the stairs. For one moment of amazement the audience was
silent; then a roar of inextinguishable laughter broke from nearly three
hundred throats, whistles and cat-calls resounded, the Tommies looked
round for the stoker, whom, by some obscure instinct or intuition, they
connected with the catastrophic shower. But Eves had slipped away.
[Illustration: "THE WHOLE CONTENTS OF TEMPLETON'S EXPERIMENTAL TANK
POURED DOWN."]
A special Election Edition of the _Pudlington Echo_ appeared next day,
and was bought up eagerly by the crowds who, in spite of the pouring
rain, had flocked into the town to record their votes. The Editor had
filled half a column with a descriptive paragraph in his best style.
"SHOWER BATH AT A MEETING
"REMARKABLE INCIDENT
"THE MAYOR MISSES HIS UMBRELLA
"The meeting at the Literary Institute in support of the candidature of
Mr. Benjamin Moggridge was broken up by a most remarkable unrehearsed
effect, which is probably without parallel in the political life of this
country. The mayor, Alderman Noakes, was in the act of protesting, with
all the dignity pertaining to his exalted office, against the demands of
certain unruly spirits that he should vacate the chair, when a quantity
of water, calculated to be equal to a rainfall of 2.8 ins., descended
with startling suddenness and almost tropical violence upon the
platform, bringing the meeting to a summary end. We understand that
this inauspicious close to Mr. Moggridge's campaign was due to the
unexpected operation of a new fire extinguisher, which the builder, our
well-known and respected fellow citizen Mr. James Johnson, had located
above the hall with a view to experimenting on a suitable occasion. The
premature exhibition of this remarkable invention, which promises to be
an epoch-making success, appears to have originated in the laudable
desire of Mr. Noakes that the large audience should be in no way
inconvenienced by the inclemency of the weather. His orders that the
hall, which, in its unfinished state, might otherwise have sown the
seeds of dangerous and possibly fatal complaints, should be heated to a
wholesome degree of temperature, were carried out with what proved to be
supererogatory solicitude; but our worthy mayor will doubtless console
himself for his temporary discomfiture--the second this week, it will be
remembered--with the reflection that the efficacy of the new fire
extinguisher was abundantly demonstrated, and that the future immunity
of the Literary Institute from the ravages of the devouring monster is
assured."
*A BRUSH WITH THE ENEMY*
*I*
Eves was dozing comfortably beneath a pile of blankets. It was a cold
morning, and though he had been awakened when Templeton rose from the
adjacent bed, he had merely snorted in reply to his friend's declaration
that it was time to get up, and turned over on the other side.
His slumbering ears were just conscious of a shout from below; but he
paid no heed to it, even when it was repeated. He was settling down in
luxurious warmth to that early morning sleep which so deliciously rounds
off the night's repose, when two sinewy hands wrenched away the
bedclothes wherein he had rolled himself, and Templeton shouted:
"Get up, you slugabed. It's come!"
"Cover me up, confound you!" cried Eves, wrathfully. "I shall catch my
death of cold."
"Get up. I've been dressed half an hour. It's come, I tell you."
Eves bent his knees and pulled his pyjamas down over his ankles.
"I don't know what you're talking about, and I don't care. Mrs.
Pouncey"--he raised his voice--"come and drag this murdering ruffian
away. He's giving me pneumonia."
"Don't be an ass, Tom. Breakfast is nearly ready, and as the nozzle has
just come by parcel post, I want to fix it and see how it works before I
go off to the shop."
"You and your inventions will be the death of me," grumbled Eves,
hugging himself. Then with a sudden movement he caught up his pillow,
slammed it at Templeton's head, followed it up with a rush, and began to
throw off his pyjamas. "Get out!" he cried. "I'll tub and dress in
five minutes--not for you, old greaser, but for the bacon I smell
frying."
"Well, I'll have time to fit on the nozzle before you're down."
He dashed out of the room, took the staircase in three resounding leaps,
and ran bare-headed through the rain to the shed.
Eves smiled as he watched him through the window.
"Old Bob's excited this morning," he thought. "Another rag, I wonder?"
Templeton's usual stolidity was in fact quite broken down by the arrival
of the nozzle made to his own design, for which he had been waiting in
order to complete his reconstruction of the ancient road-sweeper. At
breakfast he was too much excited to do full justice to the dish of
bacon and eggs which the excellent Mrs. Pouncey had provided.
"It's just the thing, Tom," he cried. "It fits perfectly, and I believe
the old 'bus will go like one o'clock. The only thing left, if it does
work, is to complete my specification and fire it in at the Patent
Office."
"I don't see that. Nobody wants a road-sweeper to go like a
Rolls-Royce."
"You don't understand. I'm not out for making road-sweepers. I only
bought the old thing to experiment on. It's the reversible steering I'm
going to patent. Look here; here's my rough draft. That'll give you an
idea of what I'm driving at."
Eves took the paper handed to him, and read aloud:
"'I, Robert Templeton, of the Red House, Wonston, Hampshire, in the
Kingdom of England, lately a lieutenant in His Majesty's Forces, do
hereby declare the nature of this invention and in what manner the same
is to be performed to be particularly described and ascertained in and
by the following----'
Oh, I say! I can't wade through all this balderdash. Tell me in plain
English what you're after."
"Well, in plain English, then, my motor is provided with two sets of
steering-gear, and the clutch couplings are so arranged that I can
engage one and disengage the other simply by shifting round on the seat,
on the pivot of which a cam is keyed----"
"For goodness' sake, Bob, spare me the rest, if that's plain English.
D'you mean that you can drive your 'bus forward or backward as you
please?"
"You can put it like that if you like, only, of course, the 'bus is
always going forward, because when you shift round on the seat----"
"Exactly. Not a word more. Why couldn't you say that in a sentence
instead of meandering through page after page? Why, hang it all, this
will make a book before you've done with it."
"It does seem a little long-winded," Templeton admitted, seriously, "but
you've no idea how particular the Patent Office people are. You have to
be correct in the smallest detail, and draw diagrams showing everything.
There's a lot of work to be done on this draft yet before it's ready."
"Well, let's go and see how it works in practice. I'd die happy if I
thought one of your old inventions was really going to make your
fortune."
"I'm afraid there isn't time now. I must hurry off to the shop. But
we'll try it to-night when I get back. It's a pity old Wilkins insisted
on my working out my week's notice; I'd have liked to devote all my time
to it."
"Can't you forfeit your screw or something?"
"I offered to, but Wilkins wouldn't hear of it, and as I hate bothers,
and my leaving without notice would certainly put him in a hole, I'll
stick it till Saturday. Are you coming with me to the shop?"
"I'll walk with you so far; then I'll go on to the town and inquire
tenderly after Noakes. We'll meet at the 'Three Tuns' for lunch. Mrs.
Pouncey will be glad of a day off."
Encased in macintoshes, they trudged up the muddy lane. At the corner
they met a farmer driving his cart westward. He nodded to Templeton.
"You've gotten she at last, zur," he said, with a smile.
"Yes; all right now, Mr. West."
"Ay. I knowed she'd come, gie un time. Gie un time, I said, and she'll
come. Well, marnen to 'ee, zur."
"Who's your she, Bob?" asked Eves as they went on.
"Oh, he means the nozzle. They're fond of the feminine about here."
"But how on earth does he know anything about the nozzle? It came by
post, you said?"
"Yes. I suppose the postman told him. You're not used to country ways."
"But how did the postman know what was in the parcel? They don't open
things, I suppose?"
"Of course not. I dare say I mentioned to the postman one day what I
was expecting, and they gossip about anything and everything here."
"What a place! Look here, my son, you'll have one of your inventions
forestalled one of these days if you don't keep your mouth shut. Then
you'd be sorry."
It was not Eves's way to keep his mouth shut, and he expatiated on the
evils of talkativeness all the way to the workshop, where the friends
parted. The same topic was revived when they met at the "Three Tuns"
for lunch.
"Wilkins was unusually amiable to-day," Templeton happened to remark.
"He seemed quite pleased that the nozzle is a success."
"Were you juggins enough to tell him that?" asked Eves with a touch of
scorn.
"Well, what else could I do when he asked me point-blank? I didn't
mention it first."
"I suppose he heard of it from the postman or from Farmer West, or from
any other inhabitant of this gossiping old monkey-house. Wilkins is the
last man who ought to know anything about your private affairs. Upon my
word, I think I'd better get demobilised and take a job as your keeper.
You're not fit to be trusted alone."
After lunch Eves accompanied Templeton to the shop, and watched over him
with fatherly interest through the afternoon. He was amused to see
Templeton from time to time break off his work on a purely mechanical
job, hurry to his coat hanging on a peg, extract the specification from
his breast-pocket, and make some trifling alteration in text or diagram.
"Is that the result of what they call unconscious cerebration?" he
asked. "Or can your mighty mind attend to two things at once? You're a
wonder, Bobby, and I hope I shall live long enough to write you a
thumping obituary notice."
*II*
Next day, immediately after breakfast, Eves went off on his own devices,
and did not see Templeton again until supper-time.
"You look rather down in the mouth. Bob," he said. "Anything wrong?"
"I'm a bit worried," Templeton replied. "I don't think I'm naturally
suspicious----"
"Rather not! You're as innocent as a babe. Any old diddler could suck
you in. But what's happened?"
"This afternoon I had to go out for an hour or so to try a car. Wilkins
was away, so I left the shop closed. While I was running the car I had
an idea for my specification and when I got back I took it out of my
coat to alter it. And I found this."
He handed Eves the paper.
"Well? It's the same old thing--same old rigmarole, isn't it?"
"That smudge of ink!"
"Your elbow--but, of course, it's all in pencil. You don't mean--
"As you say, it's all in pencil. It hasn't been near ink, so far as I
know. At any rate, that smudge wasn't there this morning."
Eves whistled.
"Wilkins knew about your specification, of course; everybody knows
everything in this Arcadia. My prophetic soul! He's been copying your
draft, Bob, and being an untidy penman, left his mark behind. He must
have been uncommon slippy to copy it all in an hour, though, with all
these erasures and interlinings. Any one else got a key of the shop?"
"No one, so far as I know."
"Noakes? You remember when we caught him at the drawer? My hat! They
don't stick at trifles. This is felony, or I'm a Dutchman. Wilkins, or
Noakes, or both of them, want to get in first at the Patent Office;
they've stolen your specification."
"That's a serious charge. We've no proof."
"My dear chap, it's as plain as a pikestaff. But look here, what can be
done? Look at the worst; say they have copied your stuff, what then?"
"If they file their application at the Patent Office it will be no end
of a bother and expense to prove it's mine."
"I'd swear that before any beak in the country. But let's keep to the
point. They couldn't get to the Patent Office to-night?"
"No; it closes at five; opens at ten in the morning."
"What time's the last train up?"
"It left twenty minutes ago," said Templeton, after a glance at his
watch.
"And in the morning?"
"The first train reaches London something after eleven."
Eves mused for a few seconds, drumming on the table.
"I tell you what," he said at length. "You set to work and make a fair
copy of this stuff, and we'll go up by the first train to-morrow and see
if--Hallo! here's a car. Rather late for a visit."
The panting of an automobile engine was distinctly audible. There was a
rap on the outer door. Mrs. Pouncey shuffled along the passage; voices
were heard; then the landlady entered.
"A gentleman to see you, sir; O'Reilly by name."
"Our excitable Irishman," said Eves.
"Ask him in, Mrs. Pouncey, please," said Templeton.
O'Reilly came in like a tornado, waving his arms and wearing his
capacious smile.
"Sure, I'm delighted to see the two of you, and me not knowing the way,"
he said as he shook hands. "The Government, or the colonel anyway, has
taken my tender for the camp waste, and 'tis to you I owe it, and I'll
beg you to drink to the colonel, or anyway the Government; I have the
champagne in my pocket ready."
He produced a bottle from the deep pocket of his waterproof coat.
"Jolly good of you, Mr. O'Reilly," said Eves. "You've come in the nick
of time. My friend Templeton wants something to cheer him up."
"Do you say so? What might be the trouble, now?"
"Expound, Bob; your invention, I mean. I should only make a mess of it."
"It was just a notion for driving a car in the opposite direction to
what it has been going, the driver swinging round on his seat and
automatically bringing into action steering-gear affecting the back
wheels instead of the front, or vice versa."
"Saves turning in a narrow lane, you see," added Eves.
"Bedad, that would be a blessing to me this dark night," said O'Reilly.
"But what is the trouble? Funds run out? Would you show me the plans,
I'd find the capital--provided they'll work out, of course."
"Splendid!" cried Eves. "Here's the draft specification--but there's
the rub; that smudge of ink. Look here, Bob, just set to work and copy
your diagrams while I tell Mr. O'Reilly all about it, and he opens the
fizz. We've no wine-glasses, only tumblers, but no one will mind that."
O'Reilly's face grew grave as he listened to the story told by Eves.
"That's bad," he said. "I stopped at the station a while ago to get a
London evening paper, and I saw that mayor of yours, Noakes, step into
the London train. There was another fellow with him, seeing him off."
"What sort of man?" asked Eves.
"A thick ruffian of a fellow in a long coat and a motor cap. I can't
tell you which of them I dislike the most, by the faces of 'em, I
mean--him or Noakes."
"That was Wilkins. There's no doubt I was right, Bob; Noakes has slunk
off to London to get in first; and that was the last train!"
"Drink, my boys," said O'Reilly, who had meanwhile opened his bottle.
"Health to ourselves, and confusion to Noakes. We'll get the top-side
of him yet. There's one way to do it. 'Tis nine o'clock, and we are a
hundred and sixty miles from London--that and a bit over. I'll drive
you up in my car."
"Magnificent," cried Eves. "How long will your diagrams take, Bob?"
"Under an hour; but there's the specification to copy out."
"I'll do that. Hand over. We'll be ready in an hour, Mr. O'Reilly."
"Then I'll run back to the town and fill up my tank and see to my tyres
and lamps," said O'Reilly. "Be you ready when I call for you, and with
luck and no punctures we'll be in London by six o'clock."
He gulped a glass of champagne and hurried from the room.
The two lads went on steadily with their tasks. Templeton was finished
first, and going to his desk scrawled a hasty note, which he placed in
an envelope, and was addressing when Eves sprang up.
"That's done," he said, flinging down his pen. "What are you writing to
Wilkins for?"
"Just to tell him I shan't be at the shop till Thursday."
"I wouldn't tell the brute anything."
"Well, you see, there's nothing proved yet, and----"
"And Noakes, I suppose, has gone up to town to leave his card on the
King! Bob, you're an ass. But drink up your fizz; it's pretty flat. I
hear the car. It'll be a pretty cold ride; rather sport, though."
"I hope we shan't have a spill. O'Reilly's a bit wild, you know. I
wish we hadn't drunk that champagne."
"Oh, you're hopeless. Get on your coat, and don't worry. It'll be a
splendid rag."
Ten minutes sufficed for their donning their thickest outer garments and
soothing the agitation into which the announcement of their journey
threw Mrs. Pouncey. Then they started.
It is to be feared that Eves's expectation of a "splendid rag" was
somewhat disappointed. There was a certain excitement in the first
hour's run over the quiet country roads, when the car, behind its
glaring headlights, seemed to be continually dashing itself against a
wall of impenetrable blackness. But it soon became monotonous. The air
was cold and damp, and in spite of their thick clothes and the
windscreen the two passengers soon became unpleasantly chilled.
O'Reilly, a business man as well as an Irishman, had a proper respect
for his car, and drove carefully through the towns. His enthusiasm for
the Government was considerably damped when first at Bournemouth and
then at Southampton he found all the hotels closed, and failed to obtain
anything in the way of liquid refreshment stronger than spade coffee.
These were the moments when Templeton felt most comfortable, and he
confided to Eves his belief that after all they would arrive safely at
their journey's end. By the time they reached Winchester the feet of
both were tingling with cold; at Guildford even Eves had become morose;
and it was not until they narrowly escaped a collision with an Army
lorry as they swung round to cross Vauxhall Bridge that Eves felt the
only thrill their journey provided.
It was nearly half-past six when O'Reilly drew up at the door of his
rooms in a quiet Westminster street.
"You'll be cold, sure," he said. "I'll let you in and show you the
bath-room; there'll be hot water. I'll garage the car, and by the time
you're dry I'll be back. I don't dare wake my housekeeper. The last
trump wouldn't get her out of bed before half-past seven. But her heart
is never cold, and at half-past eight she'll give us a breakfast fit for
the three kings of Carrickmagree. Not but what we'll forage out
something before then."
Bathed, warmed, and fed, the three boarded a motor-bus soon after nine
o'clock, and were set down at the end of Chancery Lane. As they walked
up the street Eves suddenly pulled them into a shop doorway.
"There's old Noakes about ten yards ahead," he said. "The Patent Office
doesn't open till ten, I think you said, Bob?"
"That's so."
"Then he's about forty minutes to wait. Surely he won't hang about the
door. Let us follow him carefully."
They had taken only a few steps when they saw Noakes, swinging a fat
umbrella, enter a typewriting agency.
"He's going to have your specification copied," said Eves.
"Sure, we'll be safe till ten," said O'Reilly with a chuckle. "The
girls will keep the likes of him waiting. Now do you come with me to a
patent agent, one of my friends. He'll put us up to the way of getting
over Noakes."
The agent's office was but a few yards up the street. The agent himself
had not yet arrived; his typist-secretary explained that he was not
expected until ten, and might be later.
"Well, then, you'll be after doing us a kindness. My friend here has a
specification which Mr. Jones is going to file for me, and he'll need it
copied in duplicate at once. Indeed, he'll be mighty pleased to find it
ready for him; he's been longing to get his hand on it these many weeks,
and you will not disappoint him, will you now?"
"I won't disappoint you, Mr. O'Reilly," said the girl, with a smile.
She sat down at her machine, rattled away on the keys, and in twenty
minutes handed to O'Reilly two clean copies of the specification. Her
employer arrived on the stroke of ten. A few words from O'Reilly
apprised him of the urgency of the matter, and he at once accompanied
the three to the Patent Office and filed the formal application.
They left the office in couples, O'Reilly going ahead with his friend.
The other two noticed that O'Reilly edged away to one side quickly,
leaving a gap through which came hurriedly a shambling figure in a
wideawake and a long brown ulster, in one hand a large envelope, in the
other his huge umbrella.
"Our worthy mayor," whispered Eves, giving Templeton a nudge.
Apparently Noakes had not recognised O'Reilly, but his eyes widened and
his chin dropped as he came face to face with Eves and Templeton. The
shock of amazement caused him to halt with a jerk, bringing him into
sharp collision with an errand boy hurrying along behind him, a basket
of fish upon his arm.
"Here, old 'un, mind my toes," said the lad, not ill-temperedly, at the
same time sticking out his elbow to ward off Noakes's obstructing bulk.
His action was as a spark to powder. With the impulse of an angry,
ill-conditioned man to vent his wrath on the nearest object, Noakes
swung round and brought his umbrella heavily down upon the lad's
shoulders.
"I'll learn you!" he cried, truculently.
The response was unexpected. Snatching up a prime cod by the tail, the
lad dashed its head full in Noakes's face. Noakes winced at the cold,
slimy contact, staggered, then lurched forward, raising his umbrella
once more to strike. The lad was too quick for him. Dropping his
basket, he wrenched the umbrella away, flung it into the gutter, and,
squaring his shoulders, commenced that curious piston-like movement of
the two arms which is the street boy's preliminary to a sparring bout.
Suddenly his right fist shot out, and planted a blow in the man's
midriff. A crowd quickly assembled.
[Illustration: "THE LAD DASHED ITS HEAD FULL IN NOAKES'S FACE."]
"I say, d'you know that the gentleman you are assaulting is the Mayor of
Pudlington?" said Eves, stepping up to the errand boy.
"Don't care who he is. He ain't going to hit me for nothing, not if
he's the Lord Mayor."
But the sight of a burly policeman approaching from the corner of the
street brought discretion. He picked up his basket and ran off, turning
to give Noakes a parting salute with his thumb to his nose.
*III*
O'Reilly treated the two lads to what Eves described as a topping lunch,
and afterwards spent half an hour in a close examination of the
specification.
"I like the looks of it," he said, finally. "Have you given it a trial?"
"Not yet," replied Templeton. "I've rigged up the mechanism, rather
roughly, on an old road-sweeper I got cheap, and a little more tinkering
should put it in working order. I might be able to try it on Saturday
afternoon when I'm clear of the shop."
"Well, then, I'm the way of making you an offer. I'll run down on
Saturday and watch your trial. If the creature works, I'll pay for the
installation on a respectable car, and finance you up to a thousand
pounds. You'll pay me six per cent. interest and repay the capital just
when you can."
"It's really too good of you, Mr. O'Reilly," said Templeton.
"Sorra a bit, my boy. I'm doing you no favour; 'tis business, and
there's no denying it."
"Splendid!" said Eves. "You've got your chance at last, Bob. Remember
me, old man, when the profits come rolling in. I've stood by you in many
old rags. I tell you what, I'll write your advertisements, and make
your reversible steering as famous as Beecham's pills."
"I wouldn't wonder but you've got a flowery style, Mr. Eves," said
O'Reilly. "Now, if so be you mean to catch your train, you'd better be
off. I'll see you on Saturday."
They took a taxi and arrived at the station in good time. After
securing seats, Eves walked the length of the train to see whether
Noakes was their fellow-passenger. There was no sign of him. Eves kept
an eye on the platform from the window of his compartment until the
train moved off, but Noakes had not appeared.
"He'll go on the razzle, I suppose," he remarked, as he dropped into the
corner opposite Templeton. "But he can't keep it up long. Isn't
Saturday the day for that old ceremony--what do they call it?--anointing
the British Stone? I'd made up my mind to see that; it will be a bit of
a rag to finish up my holiday with. I suppose you'll be too much
occupied with your road-sweeper to bother about it?"
"Well, you see, the afternoons are short now, and as O'Reilly is coming
down specially----"
"Just so. Business before pleasure. I foresee the end of our old
friendship. 'But O the heavy change now thou art gone!' Milton, old
chap. That's what I shall say when I think of the spiffing rags we've
had together, and mourn for the days that are no more. Hand over that
Punch, or I shall burst into tears. Perhaps I shall anyhow."
Next morning, when Templeton arrived at the shop, he found Wilkins
standing at the door, an image of truculence.
"You didn't turn up yesterday," he cried. "What was you after, eh?"
"As I explained in my note, I had to make a sudden journey to London."
"I don't want none of your explanations. You had ought to ask my
permission, going gallivanting sudden like that. I won't have no more
of it. You're sacked; you understand that? Sacked without notice.
Here's half a week's wages; you shan't have nothing against me. Hook
it! Now! This very minute!"
"With the greatest pleasure in life," said Templeton, coolly. "Good
morning."
He was not aware, until informed by the omniscient postman, that Wilkins
had received on the previous morning a telegram from Noakes, the cryptic
wording of which had already been thoroughly discussed in the
neighbourhood: "Boy in first sack immediate."
Delighted at the leisure afforded by his dismissal, Templeton returned
to his lodging, and spent the remainder of that day and the whole of the
next in working at the road-sweeper. Eves watched him for an hour or
two, but finding his friend's patient labour too slow for his taste, he
went through the town to the scene of Saturday's ceremony, and amused
himself by looking on at the preparations, and chatting with any one who
would listen to him. The British Stone was a sort of truncated monolith
standing in a meadow about a couple of acres in extent. A small square
enclosure had been roped off around it, and within stood a low wooden
platform from which the mayor, after breaking a bottle of cider on the
stone, would deliver the annual oration in honour of the town and its
ancient worthies. Against the hedge, on all four sides of the meadow,
were ranged caravans, roundabouts, Aunt Sallies, raree-shows, and all
the paraphernalia of a country fair, with stalls for the sale of hot
drinks and such comestibles as the Food Regulations had not debarred.
The continuous wet weather and the passage of many vehicles had made the
entrance to the field a slough, and many of the showmen wore gloomy
faces at the expectation that fewer spectators than usual would attend
the ceremony. They asked quite reasonably whether the women folk, their
best customers, would brave the risk of sinking ankle-deep in mud.
Saturday morning came. A thin drizzle was falling; the sky was gloomy,
and Mrs. Pouncey foretold that it was to be a "mizzly day." Templeton,
however, was so anxious to prove the merits of his invention to O'Reilly
in the afternoon, that immediately after breakfast, nothing daunted by
the weather, he suggested that Eves should accompany him on a trial
spin. They ran the road-sweeper up the muddy lane to the high road,
Eves remarking that there was great scope for the activities for which
the machine was designed. The macadamised surface of the highway was
less miry, and Templeton assured his friend that he would not get very
much splashed if the speed of the sweeper was kept low.
Templeton occupied the driver's seat; Eves stood on a rail above the
fixed brushes behind, holding on to the framework. The machine ran
steadily up the road, but when Templeton slowed down and turned upon the
pivot which was to bring into action the steering-gear at the rear, the
vehicle, instead of moving straight hi the opposite direction, showed a
tendency to sheer off to one side. Moreover, it turned out that the gear
which raised the brushes clear of the road was out of order. Every now
and then the brushes dropped, and the machine reverted to its original
use. At these times Eves's boots and puttees received a generous
bespattering of mud and water, and when the brushes began to "race,"
sending a spray of mud not merely across the road, but into his face, he
protested loudly.
"Why didn't you wait till you could rig cranks, or whatever they are, on
a decent car instead of this ramshackle old piece of antiquity?" he
grumbled.
"Sorry, old man," said Templeton; "I'll go a bit slower."
"Besides," Eves went on, "your reversible arrangements don't act. You
can't steer the thing straight. It goes like a crab, or a drunk. Swing
round again, for goodness' sake. Here's a wagon coming; I don't want to
be chucked under the wheels."
"All right," said Templeton, with composure, turning round. "It's only
a slight hitch. Of course, the clutch connection is roughly made; I did
the best I could with my materials; but you see the idea's all right,
and it'll be easy enough to correct the defects."
"You won't think of showing the thing to O'Reilly in its present state?"
"Why not? He's a practical man." Templeton began to get a little warm.
"It's chaps like you who know nothing about machinery that lose heart at
a trifling setback. And very likely another half-hour's work in the
shed will greatly improve things. This is a trial spin; you can't expect
everything to go like clockwork first go off."
"Jolly good speech, old man. Best I've heard of yours. My faith in you
is restored. By all means run the thing back to the shed; but, if you
don't mind, I'll dismount when we come to the lane. I don't mind a
shower-bath from above, but from below--no, thank you. I've swallowed
enough mud in Flanders."
Templeton spent the rest of the morning in overhauling his mechanism,
and Eves in removing the worst of the mud splotches from his clothes.
They had just finished lunch, when O'Reilly drove up in a growler hired
at the station.
"Faith, 'tis a terrible day for wetness," he said. "But here I am, and
I'll be glad now to take a look at your machine. Have you it in working
order?"
"We gave it a short trial this morning," said Templeton. "It didn't
behave quite so well as I had hoped, but I've spent a couple of hours on
it since, and it ought to go better now."
"I like your modesty, my boy. 'Tis a rare thing in inventors."
"He's far too modest," said Eves. "That's why I've appointed myself his
advertising agent. It's an old road-sweeper, remember; he's been
working under difficulties. In my opinion--of course, I'm not an
expert--the thing's a great success; you should see the amount of mud it
scooped up."
"I saw a mighty deal of mud as I came down the lane. You will not try
it here, sure?"
"We tried it along the road," said Templeton. "And I've been thinking of
a better place. On the other side of the town the road is tarred, and
the machine will run much more smoothly. Besides, there's very little
mud."
"A bright idea," said Eves. "I propose that you drive the machine over
the muddy roads while Mr. O'Reilly and I follow in the growler. We'll
get out when we come to the tarred highway, and I'll perch up where I
was before, and try to keep those brushes in order."
The suggestion was accepted. O'Reilly looked on critically as Templeton
drove the sweeper slowly up the lane; then he stepped into the cab and
told the driver to follow at a reasonable distance. Eves joined him.
As they proceeded along the road they passed at intervals small groups
of farmers and labourers with their wives and children, who, defying the
weather, had donned their Sunday best for the civic ceremony.
"Is it the likes of a wake, then?" O'Reilly asked. "Or a horse-race,
maybe?"
"Only a country beano," replied Eves, and told what he knew of the
afternoon's proceedings.
"That's disappointing, now. I'd have liked to see a good race, but I've
no wish in the world to hear Noakes make a speech."
Arriving at the tarred highway the two alighted from the cab. Eves took
up his post above the brushes as before, and O'Reilly, eager to watch
the working of Templeton's apparatus at close quarters, chose a somewhat
precarious position on the opposite side of the framework.
"Now, Tom," said Templeton, his manner betraying a little nervousness,
"if you see the gear dropping, just raise it. There's very little mud,
but there are pools here and there, and I don't want to splash you. I
propose to run straight ahead for a few minutes till I get up a fair
speed, for I fancy the mechanism will work better then. Are you ready?"
"Righto. The road's clear."
Templeton started his engine. The machine moved forward, at first
slowly, but gradually gathering way. Eves kept a watchful eye on the
brushes, and when they showed no sign of dropping he remarked to
O'Reilly, "I think old Bob's done the trick this time."
"Maybe," replied O'Reilly, in an undertone, "but this reversing gear,
now."
The speed continually increased until it reached a rate of about fifteen
miles an hour. There was no traffic on the road, and Templeton was on
the point of slowing down, preparatory to stopping and turning, when,
rounding a slight bend, he came to a cross-road just as the head of the
civic procession arrived at the corner. The town sergeant, bearing the
mace, led the way; behind him came Noakes, in his mayoral robes,
followed immediately by the councillors, the senior of whom carried a
magnum bottle of cider.
Templeton caught sight of the procession just in time to avoid a
collision. Forgetting in the excitement of the moment the necessity of
slowing down before bringing the reverse into action, he swung round on
the pivot. The effect was amazing. The machine, instead of running in
the opposite direction, plunged forward with zigzag rushes, charging
into the procession. Templeton lost his head, forgot his brakes, and
made frantic efforts to stop the engine, but something had stuck. Eves,
between alarm and amusement at the stampede of the civic dignitaries,
forgot to keep his eye on the brushes, which had dropped owing to the
change of gear, and now began to race. Unlike the highway, the
cross-road was deep in mud, and as the machine ran from side to side,
dashing first into one hedge, then the other, the brushes flung up mud
in all directions. Eves and O'Reilly were splashed from head to foot,
but the full effect of this outrageous behaviour of the road-sweeper was
felt by Noakes and the councillors immediately behind him. They had
sought safety by backing into the hedge opposite to that at which the
machine appeared to be charging as it approached them. Unhappily for
them, it suddenly altered its direction, passed within a few inches of
their shrinking forms, and covered them with a deluge of liquid mud.
There was a crash as the bottle of cider fell and splintered into
fragments, and loud cries of alarm and objurgation from the bespattered
victims.
[Illustration: "COVERED THEM WITH A DELUGE OF LIQUID MUD."]
The incident occupied barely half a minute. Templeton recovered himself,
stopped his engine, rammed on his brakes, and, least bemired of all the
actors, got down to make his apologies. Eves and O'Reilly by this time
were shaking with laughter. Noakes, seeing that the machine had come to
a stop, approached the contrite driver with uplifted fist, too irate
even to speak. He had tried to rub the splashes of mud from his cheeks,
with the result that he had only spread them.
"I am really very sorry, Mr. Noakes," said Templeton. "I was trying a
new invention, and I can't say how much I regret----"
"Od rabbit you and your inventions," roared Noakes. "You did it o'
purpose, you viper. I'll have you up, I will, for creating a
nuisance----"
"Driving to the danger of the public, be jowned to 'em," put in a
councillor who had suffered scarcely less than the mayor.
"Ay, the danger of the public and bodily injury to the mayor," cried
Noakes. "No option of a fine, neither; you'll go to jail, sure as my
name be Philemon Noakes."
"Come, come, now," said O'Reilly, thinking it time to intervene. "Sure,
any one could see it was nothing but an accident that might have
happened to the Lord Mayor of Dublin himself. You gentlemen have got
splashed; faith, so have I. Look at me! The right way to look at it is
that we're all suffering in a good cause--martyrs of science, and I
wouldn't say but we've got off lightly."
"There's summat in that, Neighbour Noakes," said a councillor who, being
at the rear of the procession, had not come within range of the rotating
brushes. "Ay, what I say is, these young fellers what have served their
country want to be encouraged, and if so be a little mud flies--why,
there 'tis; it will brush off, and 'tis all one."
"There'll be no 'nointing to-day, that's certain," said another. "Seems
to me we'd best all go home along before they get wind of it in the
meadow up yonder. None of us wants a crowd ramping round and admiring
of our muddy faces. The old stone won't hurt for want of its drop o'
liquor for once."
"That's true," added a third. "And as for speeches--well, speaking as
man to man, speeches are a weariness of the flesh to me. Let's go home
along, neighbours, and drink a drop o' something hot, with our toes on
the fire."
The suggestion won favour with the majority, and Noakes, irritably
conscious of his unseemly appearance, allowed himself to be escorted
towards the town. A few of the more curious waited to see what further
antics the road-sweeper performed. But they were disappointed. A brief
examination of the mechanism revealed to Templeton the cause of his
failure. He made certain adjustments which enabled him to drive the
machine home at a moderate pace, and without further experiments with
the reversible steering. Eves and O'Reilly followed, prudently, in the
cab.
"My hat, what a rag!" said Eves to his companion on the way. "But I'm
afraid old Bob has come a cropper, poor old boy! It's not the first
time; but I'll say this for him, he always comes up smiling."
"And he'll smile to a good tune if I don't be mistaken," said O'Reilly.
"He's got hold of a good idea, and with the help of an engineer friend
of mine he'll make something of it. I'll see to that."
The next week's local paper contained a copious but by no means a wholly
accurate account of the incident. The deplorable appearance of the
mayor was described, however, with excessive particularity. Unkindest
cut of all, the editor pointed the moral:
"We have already more than once drawn the attention of the mayor and
corporation to the disgracefully muddy state of our roads in
winter-time. Now that our civic worthies have suffered in their own
persons, and the town has been deprived for the first time in a hundred
and forty years of its ancient and time-honoured ceremony, perhaps
something will be done, or are we to wait until the present mayor's
tenure of office has expired?"
A few months later Eves received from Templeton a long letter which gave
him a good deal of pleasure. Templeton related that his invention,
tested under more favourable conditions, had more than fulfilled his
hopes. O'Reilly was enthusiastic about it, and had arranged to set up a
small factory for him. But almost as agreeable was the news about the
Mayor of Pudlington:
"Noakes was never popular," Templeton wrote, "and the sorry figure he
cut in certain episodes we know of brought him into ridicule, which is
always fatal. It began to be whispered, too, that there was something
shady in his transactions over contracts and canteens, and what not.
Anyhow, one fine day he disappeared, and I hear that there are warrants
out against him. I'm not vindictive, but I can't say I shall be sorry
if he is caught."
"Just like old Bob," said Eves to himself. He sat down to dash off a
reply:
"I'm jolly glad, old man. 'There is a tide,' etc. (Shakespeare). I
always said you'd make your fortune, though I must own I never thought
it would be through a mad road-sweeper. I'm going to be demobbed after
all, so I'll take on your advertising stunt as soon as you like. As to
Noakes, I don't care whether he's caught or not. He was always a
glorious rag, and I rather fancy he more or less inspired some of your
bright ideas."