It was a mellow day in October 1760, a little more than six years since the day when Market Drayton gave rein to its enthusiasm in honor of Clive.  From a flagstaff newly erected on the roof of the Four Alls on the Newport Road, a square of bunting flapped in the breeze.  Inside the inn the innkeeper was drawing a pint of ale for his one solitary customer, a shambling countryman with a shock of very red hair, and eyes of innocent blue.

“There, that makes a quart, Tummus Biles, and ’tis as much as your turnip head can safely carry.”

He passed the can across the bar on a hook that projected from a wooden socket in his sleeve.

“Why, now, Mr. Bulger,” said Tummus, the tranter, “what fur do you go fur to miscall me like other fowk?  I’ve been miscalled ever since that day I drove a stranger into Market Drayton six year ago.  I mind me he had a red feather in his cap, and not knowing my name was plain Tummus, he called me Jehu, he did, and I never forgot it.  Ay, and I tell ya what, Mr. Bulger:  it took me two year to find out why he give me such an uncommon name.  I mind I was sittin’ by a hayrick of Mr. Burke’s—­that was long afore he was lamed by that terrible horse o’ his—­and ponderin’ on that heathen name, when all at once it comed to me like a flash o’ lightnin’.

“‘Jehu!’ says I to myself.  ‘I’ve got ya at last.’  Ya see, when that stranger saw me, I were drivin’ a horse.  Well, I says to my horse, ‘Gee-ho!’ says I. Not knowing my true chrisom name, the stranger takes up my words an’ fits ’em to me.  ‘Gee-ho!’ says I; ‘Gee-ho!’ says he; only bein’ a kind o’ furriner he turns it into ‘Jehu’; an’ the name fits me uncommon.  Hee hee!”

“I may be wrong,” said Bulger, “but ’tis my belief ‘Hee haw!’ would fit you a big sight better.  But hark! en’t them the bells a-ringin’?”

The two hastened to the door, and stood looking down the road toward Market Drayton.  From the distance came the faint sounds of a merry peal.  By and by a four-horsed open carriage with outriders appeared on the crest of the hill.  Amid the dust it raised another could be seen, and behind this a long line of vehicles.  Every coachman’s whip was decorated with a wedding favor.  The cavalcade approached rapidly.  As the first carriage drew nearer Bulger became more and more excited, and when it dashed past the inn he raised his hook and shouted “Hurray! hurray!” with the full force of his lungs.

“Give ’em a cheer, Tummus,” he cried.  “Hee haw will do if you knows no better.  Hurray for Major Desmond Burke and his madam—­the purtiest gal I ever did see, east or west.  Hurray for her father and mother:  there they are, with old squire an’ the major’s mother.  And there’s Mr. Clive, all alone by himself ‘cos his leg’s stiff wi’ rheumatics; but he would come to see the deed done, which I may be wrong, but the new King George’ll make him a live lord afore he’s much older.

“Open your mouth, Tummus, an’ if you hee haw loud enough, I’ll draw you another pint for nothing.”