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Indeed, although Stringer's excitement had prevented him from heeding the circumstance, an ever-freshening breeze was blowing in his face, and he noted now that, quite mechanically, he had removed his bowler hat at some time earlier in the pursuit and had placed it in the bottom of the boat.
"My name is Dan Stringer, and I'm Mr John Stringer's cousin. I've lived with Mr John Stringer for twelve year and more, and I'm a'most as well known in Barchester as himself. Have you anything to say to me, sir?" "Well, yes; I have," said Toogood. "I believe you're the one of them attorneys from London?" said Mr Dan Stringer. "That's true. I am an attorney from London."
The vote in the House against the veto not merely fell short of the requisite two-thirds, but was less than a plurality, showing that the action of the chief magistrate had reversed the sentiment of the Legislature. The force of Stringer's opposition was practically killed by the Governor's course. He had staked everything on the chance that Lyons would see fit to sign the bill.
As the pitcher let the ball go, Ash was digging for second and Mac was shooting plateward. They played on the chance of Stringer's hitting. Stringer swung, the bat cracked, we heard a thud somewhere, and then Manning, half knocked over, was fumbling for the ball. He had knocked down a terrific drive with his mitt, and he got the ball in time to put Stringer out.
"Some of Stringer's people seem to have stolen the cheque from Mr Soames," said the archdeacon. "Oh dear, I hope not." "Somebody must have stolen it, papa." "I had hoped not, Susan," said Mr Harding. Both the archdeacon and Mrs Grantly knew that it was useless to argue with him on such a point, and so they let that go.
As he drew near the house he found himself repeating Stringer's broad Yorkshire "What wor that lawyer-clerk chap fro' Barford Pratt doin' about theer? What reight had he to be prowlin' round t' neighbourhood o' that bridge, and at that time? Come, now theer's a tickler for somebody!"
On the following Saturday he was early at the knoll, a brand-new scribbling-pad in his pocket and in his mind divine gems which were later, and with Miss Fosdick's assistance, to be strung into a glittering necklace of lyric song and draped, with the stringer's compliments, about the throat of a grateful muse. But no gems were strung that day.
The barmaid was here at the window, and there was also, in a corner of the room, a man at a desk with a red nose. Toogood knew that the man at the desk with the red nose was Mr Stringer's clerk. So much he had learned in his former rummaging about the inn.
"You are not well, I fear," said Mrs Patrick. "I will go with you"; and next moment the enemy was gone, and the doctor and his boys were together. Dr Patrick, who, to tell the truth, seemed scarcely less relieved than his visitors, made no attempt to apologise for Miss Stringer's sudden indisposition, and embarked at once on a friendly talk about school affairs.
Again they settled down to the pursuit, and it began to dawn upon Stringer's mind that the boat ahead must be engined identically with that of the police; for whilst they certainly gained nothing upon her, neither did they lose. "Try a hail," cried Rogers from the stern. "We may be chasing the wrong boat!"
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