in the middle of it to read the proclamation.
It collected no crowd, but it drew many faces to the windows and
doorways, and Mr Pinsent observed that one and all broke into grins
as they took the humour of his offer.

He rubbed his hands together. He had been angry to begin with; yes--
he would confess it--very angry. But he had overcome it and risen to
his reputation. The town had been mistaken in thinking it could put
fun on him. It was tit-for-tat again, and the laugh still with
Samuel Pinsent.

He ate his dinner that day in high good humour, drank a couple of
glasses of port, and retired (as his custom was on warm afternoons)
to his back-parlour, for an hour's siesta. Through the open window
he heard the residue of his pigeons murmuring in their cotes, and the
sound wooed him to slumber. So for half an hour he slept, with an
easy conscience, a sound digestion, and a yellow bandanna
handkerchief over his head to protect him from the flies. A tapping
at the door awakened him.

'There's a woman here--Long Halloran's wife, of Back Street--wishes
to see you, sir,' announced the voice of Mrs Salt.

'Woman!' said the mayor testily. 'Haven't you learned by this time
that I'm not to be disturbed after dinner?'

'She said her business was important, sir. It's--it's about the
pigeons,' explained Mrs Salt.

And before he could protest again, Mrs Halloran had thrust her way
into the room and stood curtseying, with tears of recent weeping upon
her homely and extremely dirty face. Behind her shuffled a lanky,
sheepish-eyed boy, and took up his stand at her shoulder with a look
half-sullen, half-defiant.

'It's about my Mike, sir,' began Mrs Halloran, in a lachrymose voice,
and paused to dab her eyes with a corner of her apron. 'Which I'm
sure, sir, we ought to be very grateful to you for all your kindness
and the trouble you're takin', and so says the boy's father.
For he's growin' up more of a handful every day, and how to manage
him passes our wits.'

'Are you telling me, Mrs Halloran, that this boy of yours is the
thief who stole my pigeons?'

Mr Pinsent, looking at the boy with a magisterial frown, began to
wish he had not been quite so hasty in sending round the town
sergeant.

'You did, didn't you, Mike?' appealed Mrs Halloran. And Mike,
looking straight before him, grunted something which might pass for
an admission. 'You must try to overlook the boy's manner, sir.
He's case-hardened, I fear, and