England -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; Islands -- Fiction
"Which I answered to Mrs. Medlin," said Mrs. Banfield, "'Granted,
ma'am,' I said, 'but, food or no food, I'd sooner swallow it than
believe what you were tellin' just now.'"
"And what was that?" asked the Commandant, turning on Mrs. Medlin.
"Why, sir, knowing the Lord Proprietor to be no friend of yours----"
"Hush, Mrs. Medlin--hush, if you please!"
"Of course, sir, if you don't want to hear----"
"I certainly cannot listen to any talk against Sir Caesar. It would be
exceedingly improper."
"I warn' going to say anything improper," Mrs. Medlin protested
stoutly. "And I wonder, sir, at your thinking it, after the years
you've given good-day to me."
"Why, bless the woman!" interjected Mrs. Banfield, "you might talk as
improper as you pleased and the Governor wouldn't understand your
drift--he's that innocent-minded. But what she meant, sir, was that the
Lord Proprietor had turned you out, belike--as everyone knows he has a
mind to--and that a new Governor might be coming in your place."
The Commandant flushed. "My dear Mrs. Banfield, the Lord Proprietor has
nothing to do with the military command here, either to appoint or to
dismiss. I cannot forbid your gossipping; but it may help you to know
that every soldier on the Islands holds his post directly under the
Crown."
Mrs. Banfield gazed at the basket with the air of one who, seeming to
yield, yet abides by her convictions. "The Crown's a long way off,
seemin' to me," she objected; "and contrariwise I do know that when the
Lord Proprietor wants his way on the Islands he gets it. Though it were
ten times a week, he'd get it, and no one nowadays strong enough to
stand up to him."
"My dear Mrs. Banfield!"
But Mrs. Banfield was not to be checked. "He's a tyrant," she declared,
her voice rising shrilly; "and I'd say it a hundred times, though I went
to the lock-up for it. He's a tyrant: and you, sir, are too simple-minded
to cope with 'em. Yes, yes--'a Christian gentleman'--everyone grants it
of you, and--saving your presence--everyone is sorry enough for it. You
wouldn't hurt a fly, for your part. Man, woman, or child, you'd have
every soul in the Islands to live neighbourly and go their ways in
peace. No doubt 'tis good Gospel teaching, too, and well enough it
worked till this rumping little tyrant came along and pushed you aside.
Goodness comes easy to you, sir, I reckon; but it bears hard upon us
poor folk that want someone to stand up for us against injustice."
"The Lord Proprietor, Mrs. Banfield, has a strong will of his own; but
I certainly never heard that he was unjust."
"Then you haven't heard, sir, what's happening over on Saaron?"
"On Saaron, ma'am?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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