oath on that, but he that fights
the murdering frogeaters single-handed is he whom they call The Scarlet
Pimpernel: the bravest gentleman in all the world."

Then, as at mention of the national hero, he thought that he detected in
Mistress Polly's eyes an enthusiasm which he could not very well ascribe
to his own individuality, he added with some pique:

"But they do say that this same Scarlet Pimpernel is mightily
ill-favoured, and that's why no one ever sees him. They say he is fit to
scare the crows away and that no Frenchy can look twice at his face, for
it's so ugly, and so they let him get out of the country, rather than
look at him again."

"Then they do say a mighty lot of nonsense," retorted Mistress Polly,
with a shrug of her pretty shoulders, "and if that be so, then why don't
you go over to France and join hands with the Scarlet Pimpernel? I'll
warrant no Frenchman'll want to look twice at your face."

A chorus of laughter greeted this sally, for the two young people had
in the meanwhile been joined by several of their friends, and now formed
part of a merry group near the band, some sitting, others standing, but
all bent on seeing as much as there was to see in Richmond Gala this
day. There was Johnny Cullen, the grocer's apprentice from Twickenham,
and Ursula Quekett, the baker's daughter, and several "young 'uns" from
the neighbourhood, as well as some older folk.

And all of them enjoyed a joke when they heard one and thought Mistress
Polly's retort mightily smart. But then Mistress Polly was possessed of
two hundred pounds, all her own, left to her by her grandmother, and
on the strength of this extensive fortune had acquired a reputation for
beauty and wit not easily accorded to a wench that had been penniless.

But Mistress Polly was also very kind-hearted. She loved to tease Master
Jezzard, who was an indefatigable hanger-on at her pretty skirts, and
whose easy conquest had rendered her somewhat contemptuous, but at the
look of perplexed annoyance and bewildered distress in the lad's face,
her better nature soon got the upper hand. She realized that her remark
had been unwarrantably spiteful, and wishing to make atonement, she
said with a touch of coquetry which quickly spread balm over the honest
yokel's injured vanity:

"La! Master Jezzard, you do seem to make a body say some queer things.
But there! you must own 'tis mighty funny about that Scarlet Pimpernel!"
she added, appealing to the c