"You needn't dodge your heads about so gingerly. I'm only about to give
you an exhibition. How many tall candlesticks have you in the house
besides the pair here?" he inquired of Prudy.
"Dree pair."
"Put candles in the other two pairs and set them on the chimney-shelf."
"Why?"
"Do as I tell you."
"Now here's summat _like_ a man!" said Prudy, and went out obediently to
fetch them.
Until she returned there was dead silence in the bar-parlour. The men
puffed uneasily at their pipes, not one of which was alight, and avoided
the stranger's eye, which rested on each in turn with a sardonic humour.
Prudy lit the candles, one from the other, and after snuffing them with
her fingers that they might burn steadily, arranged them in a row on the
mantelshelf. Now above this shelf the chimney-piece was panelled to the
height of some two and a half feet, and along the panel certain ballads
that Prudy had purchased of the Sherborne messenger were stuck in a row
with pins.
"Better take those ballads down, if you value them," the stranger
remarked.
She turned round inquiringly.
"I'm going to shoot."
"Sakes alive--an' my panel, an' my best brass candlesticks!"
"Take them down.
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