But he woke
up very politely to attend to his visitors' business.
"Yes, for sure, I'll hold the stakes," said he: "and I'll see it put
in big print on the Regatta-bill. It ought to attract a lot of
visitors. But lor' bless you, Mr. Oke!--if you win, it'll do _me_ no
good. She"--meaning his wife--"has gone to a land where I'll never
be able to crow over her."
"Your Worship makes sure, I see, that we women are going to be beat?"
put in Sal.
"Tut-tut!" says the Mayor. "They've booked Seth Ede for stroke."
And with that he goes very red in the gills and turns to Landlord
Oke. "But perhaps I oughtn't to have mentioned that?" says he.
"Well," says Sal, "you've a-let the cat out of the bag, and I see
that all you men in the town are in league. But a challenge is a
challenge, and I mustn't go back on it." Indeed, in her secret heart
she was cheerful, knowing the worst, and considering it none so bad:
and after higgling a bit, just to deceive him, she took pretty well
all the conditions of the race as Oke laid 'em down. A tearing long
course it was to be, too, and pretty close on five miles: start from
near-abouts where the training-ship lays now, down to a mark-boat
somewheres off Torpoint, back, and finish off Saltash Quay.
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