The descent might be
military or might be civil: he was always Olympian.
"The handsome he is!" Miss Marty would sigh, gazing after him.
"A fine figure of a man, our Major!" commented Butcher Oke, following
him from the shop-door with a long stare, after the day's joint had
been discussed and chosen.
The children, to whom he was ever affable, stopped their play to take
and return his smile. Some even grinned and saluted. They reserved
their awe for Scipio. Indeed, there is a legend that when Scipio
made his first appearance in Fore Street--he being so tall and the
roadway so narrow--he left in his wake two rows of supine children
who, parting before him, had gradually tilted back as their gaze
climbed up his magnificent and liveried person until the sight of his
ebon face toppled them over, flat.
Miss Jex, the postmistress, would hand him his letters or his copy of
the _Sherborne Mercury_ with a troubled blush. No exception surely
could be taken if she, a Government official, chose to hang a
coloured engraving of the Prince Regent on the wall behind her
counter. And yet--the resemblance! She had heard of irregular
alliances, Court scandals; she had even looked out "Morganatic" in
the dictionary, blushing for the deed while pretending to herself
(fie, Miss Jex!) that "Moravian" was the word she sought.
In Admirals' Row--its real name was Admiral's Row, and had been given
to it in 1758, after the capture of Louisbourg and in honour of
Admiral Boscawen; but we in Troy preferred to write the apostrophe
after the 's'--Miss Sally Tregentil would overpeer her blind and draw
back in a flutter lest the Major had observed her.
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