husband included, took pleasure in treating her
respectfully, she never dreamed that an affront was meant. From the
moment she heard Bligh's lingo, she firmly believed that here were
two Frenchies on the coach; and first she went white to the lips and
shivered all over, and then she caught at the seat to steady herself,
and then she flung back a look at Jim the Guard, to make sure he had
his blunderbuss handy. She couldn't speak to Sammy Hosking, the
coachman, or touch him by the arm without reaching across Bligh: and
by this time the horses were at the top of the hill and settling into
a gallop. She thought of the many times she'd sat up in bed at home
in a fright that the Frenchmen had landed and were marching up to
burn Manaccan Vicarage: and how often she had warned her husband
against abusing Boney from the pulpit--'twas dangerous, she always
maintained, for a man living so nigh the seashore. The very shawl
beside her was scarlet, same as the women-folk wore about the fields
in those days in hopes that the invaders, if any came, would mistake
them for red-coats. And here she was, perched up behind two of her
country's enemies--one of them as ugly as Old Nick or Boney himself--
and bowling down towards her peaceful home at anything from sixteen
to eighteen miles an hour.

I dare say, too, the thunderstorm had given her nerves a shaking; at
any rate, Jim the Guard came crawling over the coach-roof after a
while, and, said he, "Why, Mrs. Polwhele, whatever is the matter?
I han't heard you speak six words since we started."

And with that, just as he settled himself down for a comfortable chat
with her, after his custom, the poor lady points to the two
strangers, flings up both hands, and tumbles upon him in a fit of
hysterics.

"Stop the hosses!" yells Jim; but already Sammy Hosking was pulling
up for dear life at the sound of her screams.

"What in thunder's wrong with the female?" asks Bligh.

"Female yourself!" answers up Sammy in a pretty passion. "Mrs.
Polwhele's a lady, and I reckon your cussed rudeness upset her.
I say nothing of your face, for that you can't help."

Bligh started up in a fury, but Mr. Sharl pulled him down on the
seat, and then Jim the Guard took a turn.

"Pitch a lady's luggage into the road, would you?" for this, you must
know, was the reason of Bligh's sulkiness at starting. He had come
up soaking from Torpoint Ferry, walked straight to the coach, and
pulled the door open to