could raise a keek: poor soul, he bin underground this many year. Well,
as I were sayin', this 'prentice o' mine were allers bein' baited by the
boys o' the grammar school. I done my best for him, spoke them boys fair
an' soft, but, bless ya, 'twas no good; they baited him worse'n ever. So
one day I used my stick to um. Next mornin' I was down in my bake hus,
makin' my batch ready fur oven, when, oothout a word o' warnin', up comes
my two feet behind, down I goes head fust into my flour barrel, and them
young--hem! the clergy be present--them youngsters dancin' round me like
forty mad merry andrews at a fair."

A roar of laughter greeted the anecdote.

"Ay, neebors," resumed the bailiff, "we can laugh now, you an' me, but
theer's many on ya could tell o' your own mishappenin's if ya had a mind
to 't. As fur me, I bided my time. One day I cotched the leader o' them
boys nigh corn market, an' I laid him across the badgerin' stone and
walloped him nineteen--twenty--hee! hee! D'ya mind that, General?"

He turned to the guest at his right hand, who sat with but the glimmer of
a smile, crumbling one of Bailiff Malkin's rolls on the tablecloth.

"But theer," continued the speaker, "that be nigh twenty year ago, an'
the shape o' my strap binna theer now, I warrant. Three skins ha' growed
since then--hee! hee! Who'd ha' thought, neebors, as that young limb as
plagued our very lives out 'ud ha' bin here today, a general, an' a great
man, an' a credit to his town an' country? Us all thought as he'd bring
his poor feyther's gray hairs in sorrow to the grave. An' when I heerd as
he'd bin shipped off to the Injies--well, thinks I, that bin the last
we'll hear o' Bob Clive.