Page:Eliot - Felix Holt, the Radical, vol. I, 1866.djvu/256

246 scattering halfpence on a Sunday was so unprecedented that there was no knowing what he might do next; and the smallest hindmost fellows in sealskin caps were not without hope that an entirely new order of things had set in.

Every one waited outside for the stranger to dismount, and Mr Chubb advanced to take the bridle. "Well, Mr Chubb," were the first words when the great man was safely out of the saddle, "I've often heard of your fine tap, and I'm come to taste it."

"Walk in, sir—pray walk in," said Mr Chubb, giving the horse to the stable-boy. "I shall be proud to draw for you. If anybody's been praising me, I think my ale will back him."

All entered in the rear of the stranger except the boys, who peeped in at the window.

"Won't you please to walk into the parlour, sir?" said Chubb, obsequiously.

"No, no, I'll sit down here. This is what I like to see," said the stranger, looking round at the colliers, who eyed him rather shyly—"a bright hearth where working men can enjoy themselves. However, I'll step into the other room for three minutes, just to speak half-a-dozen words with you."