g trembling, opened the door of the Museum.
The ladies put up their eye-glasses and gazed around, while Sir Felix
dusted his coat.

"Hymen, his name was. That's his bust yonder," Sir Felix explained,
flicking at his collar with his handkerchief. "A very decent body; a
retired linen-draper, if I remember, from somewhere in the City,
where he put together quite a tidy sum of money. Came home and spent
it in his native town, where for years he was quite a big-wig.
But our friend here has a book about him, written up by the
apothecary of the place. Isn't that so?" he appealed to the Major,
who drew the document from his pocket with shaking fingers.

"Eh? I thought so," went on Sir Felix. "But spare us the
long-winded passages, my friend. Just a few particulars to satisfy
the ladies, who, on this their first visit to Cornwall, are good
enough to be inquisitive _a folie_ about us--about Troy especially."

"But it is ravishing--quite ravishing!" declared one of the ladies.

"A duck of a place!" cried the other, inspecting the bust. "And see,
Sophronia, what a duck of a man! And you say he was only a
linen-draper?" She turned to Sir Felix.

"But all the Cornish are gentlemen--didn't Queen Elizabeth or
somebody say something of the sort?" chimed in the first.
"And the place kept as neat as a pin, I protest!"

"Gentlemen in their own conceit, I fear," Sir Felix answered.
"But this fellow was, on the whole, a very decent fellow. Success,
or what passes for it in a small country town, never turned his head.
He had a foible, I'm told, on the strength of a likeness (you'll be
amused) to the Prince Regent. But, so far as I observed, he knew how
to conduct himself towards his--er--superiors. I had quite a respect
for him. Yes, begad, quite a respect."

"I think, sir," said the Major, controlling his voice, "since you ask
me to select a passage, this may interest the ladies:

"'But perhaps the most remarkable trait in the subject of our
memoir was his invariable magnanimity, which alone persuaded
all who met him that they had to deal with no ordinary man.
It is related of him that once in childhood, having been pecked
in the leg by a gander, he was found weeping rather at the
aggressive insolence of the fowl (with which he had
good-naturedly endeavoured to make friends) than at the trivial
hurt received by his own boyish calves.'"

The ladies laughed, and Sir Felix joined i