He
lived alone in a little cottage on the Wem road, and, not being too
plentifully endowed with this world's goods, he eked out his
competency by giving lessons in fencing, both with singlesticks and
swords.
Well, in comes the captain, cocking a twinkling eye at me, lays on
the table the cane without which he never went abroad, and, placing
a chair for himself at the table, says:
"'Tis to be hoped we are not in for a ten years' Trojan war, Master
Humphrey."
Though I understood nothing of his meaning, I knew he made reference
to the recent escapade, and I felt mightily uncomfortable. My father
looked from one to the other, but did not break his silence.
"They haven't put you to the Iliads yet, I suppose," says the
captain, helping himself to a mug of our home-brewed cider, "but
you know, neighbor Ellery, 'twas an apple that set the Greeks and
Trojans by the ears, and 'tis apples, or rather the want of 'em,
that is like to put discord between some of our families
hereabout."
"You speak in riddles, Captain," says my father at last; "and why
are you eying Humphrey in that quizzical way?"
"Why, bless my soul, don't you know? I thought it had been half
over the county by this."
"I know that that 'prentice lad Punchard hath half-killed young
Vetch, and richly deserves what he will no doubt get tomorrow."
"And is that all? Have you told only half your story, Humphrey?"
This direct question made me still more uncomfortable, especially
as my father's eyes were sternly bent upon me.
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