He greeted George as a saviour, and led him inside, where
some three hundred people crowded a small whitewashed building. The
village of Allerfoot itself is a little place, but it is the centre of a
wide pastoral district, and the folk assembled were brown-faced herds
and keepers from the hills, plough-men from the flats of Glen Aller, a
few fishermen from the near sea-coast, as well as the normal inhabitants
of the village.
George was wretchedly nervous and sat in a cold sweat while the chairman
explained that the great Mr. S---- deeply regretted that at the last
moment he was unfortunately compelled to break so important an
engagement, but that he had sent in his stead Mr. George Winterham,
whose name was well known as a distinguished Oxford scholar and a rising
barrister. George, who had been ploughed twice for Smalls and had
eventually taken a pass degree, and to whom the law courts were nearly
as unknown as the Pyramids, groaned inwardly at the astounding news.
The audience might have been a turnip field for all the personality it
possessed for him. He heard their applause as the chairman sat down
mopping his brow, and he rose to his feet conscious that he was smiling
like an idiot. He made some introductory remarks of his own--that "he
was sorry the other chap hadn't turned up, that he was happy to have the
privilege of expounding to them his views on this great subject "--and
then with an ominous sinking of heart plucked forth his papers and
launched into the unknown.
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