Mr. Bannister was a man of tact, especially when a gentleman produced a purse. He turned Titsy and the old lady out of the shop, locked the door, and commenced business. John Gore was soon handling all manner of dainty stuffs: silks, brocades, cloth of red and green and blue, cottons, and the like. Mrs. Winnie had truly praised Mr. Bannister’s store of treasures, and the lover soon had all that he listed for the glorifying of his lady.
Gold passed across the counter. Mr. Bannister had begun piling certain dainty linen aside with the mystery of a man of sentiment.
“Thanks; my friend and I can take them, if you will cord the stuff so that we can carry it aboard our horses.”
Mr. Jennifer came in at that moment, his hat on the back of his head and his face trying to kill a grin. Mr. Bannister glanced at him a little severely, and was more surprised to see the stranger own him as the friend he had referred to.
“What be all these doings here, Mister Bannister, in Battle, hey?”
“What doings may you be referring to, Mr. Jennifer?”
“Doings! Why, there be old Squire Oxenham out on his gray ’oss on t’ Green, with a pair of sodgering fellows in red, and half a score yeomen, and Lawyer Gibbs, and a little gen’leman in a great wig, with a face like a raw side of beef.”
Mr. Bannister had heard of none of these doings, and they went to the door, all three of them, and stood on the footway, looking toward the Green. Squire Oxenham was there, sure enough, with a couple of troopers and the yeomen—all mounted, and one or two more gentlemen to watch the mounted men, who were keeping their horses moving, all save Squire Oxenham, the lawyer, and the red-faced man in the big black periwig.
Mr. Jennifer accosted a man in a leather apron who came swinging along the sidewalk.
“Devil a bit I knows. Some of these papistry gentry to be taken, I guess. Squire Oxenham’s keeping mum.”
Mr. Bannister pulled out a pair of tortoise-shell spectacles and took stock of the scene. He had hardly adjusted the spectacles when the two troopers came riding up the street, followed by the yeomen, Squire Oxenham, and the rest. A rabble of small boys followed at their heels, till the Squire made free with the whip he carried and drove the boys back like a lot of dogs. They swept past Mr. Bannister’s shop, Chris Jennifer running forward to hold the heads of his and John Gore’s horses. They saw the cavalcade go westward past the Watch Oak, the Squire’s gray horse and the red coats of the troopers standing out vividly from the duller tints of the rest.