?
Geezy-dancers?" [3]

"I'll soon tell 'ee about Geezy-dancers," says Billy. "Here, Missus--a
pot of ale all round, and let 'em drink to two Cornish boys home from
festerin' in French war prisons, while they've a'been diggin' taties!"

There was no resisting a sociable offer like this, and in two two's, as
you might say, Billy was boasting ahead for all he was worth, and the
company with their mouths open--all but the landlady, who was opening
her eyes instead, and wider and wider.

"There isn' none present that remembers me, I dare say. My name's
Bosistow--Billy Bosistow--from Ardevora parish. And back there I'm
going this very night, and why? you ask. I ben't one of your
taty-diggin' slowheads--_I_ ben't. I've broke out of prison three
times, and now--" He nodded at the company, whose faces by this time he
couldn't very well pick out of a heap--"do any of 'ee know a maid there
called Selina Johns? Because if so I warn 'ee of her. 'Why?' says you.
Because that's the maid I'm goin' to marry, and I'm off to Ardevora to
do it straight. Another pot of beer, please, missus."

"You've had a plenty, sir, seemin' to me," answered up the landlady,
while the company tittered.

"And is this the way"--Billy stood up very dignified--"is this the way
to welcome home a man who bled for his country? Is this your
gratitude to a man who's spent ten o' the best years of his life in
slavery while you've been diggin' taties?" I can't tell you why
potatoes ran so much in the poor fellow's head; but they did, and he
seemed to see the hoeing of them almost in the light of a personal
injury. He spat on the floor. "And as for you, madam, these here boots
of mine have tramped thousands of miles, and I shake off their dust upon
you," he says.

"I wish you'd confine yourself to that, with your dirty habits!" the
landlady answered up again, but Billy marched out with great dignity
which was only spoiled by his mistaking the shadow across the doorway
for a raised step. He didn't forget to slam the door after him; but he
did forget to take leave of Harry Cornish, who had walked so far out of
his way in pure friendliness.

For the first mile or so, what with his anger and the fresh air, Billy
had a to-do to keep his pins and fix his mind on the road.
But by-and-by his brain cleared a bit, and when he reached the hill over
Ardevora, and saw the lights of the town below him, his mood changed,
and he sat down on the turf of the slo