dant, was glossy, but do
what you would with it, it never looked like other people's. And at
church, after Saturday night's wash, it shone like the best brass
fender after a Spring cleaning. In short, it was conspicuous, which
does not become a young woman--especially in church.

Those were worrying times altogether, and the Green was used for
strange purposes. A political meeting was held on it with the village
Cobbler in the chair, and a speaker who came by stage coach from the
town, where they had wrecked the bakers' shops, and discussed the
price of bread. He came a second time, by stage, but the people had
heard something about him in the meanwhile, and they did not keep him
on the Green. They took him to the pond and tried to make him swim,
which he could not do, and the whole affair was very disturbing to all
quiet and peaceable fowls. After which another man came, and preached
sermons on the Green, and a great many people went to hear him; for
those were "trying times," and folk ran hither and thither for
comfort. And then what did they do but drill the ploughboys on the
Green, to get them ready to fight the French, and teach them the
goose-step! However, that came to an end at last, for Bony was sent to
St. Helena, and the ploughboys were sent back to the plough.

Everybody lived in fear of Bony in those days, especially the naughty
children, who were kept in order during the day by threats of, "Bony
shall have you," and who had nightmares about him in the dark. They
thought he was an Ogre in a cocked hat. The Grey Goose thought he was
a fox, and that all the men of England were going out in red coats to
hunt him. It was no use to argue the point, for she had a very small
head, and when one idea got into it there was no room for another.

Besides, the Grey Goose never saw Bony, nor did the children, which
rather spoilt the terror of him, so that the Black Captain became more
effective as a Bogy with hardened offenders. The Grey Goose remembered
_his_ coming to the place perfectly. What he came for she did not
pretend to know. It was all part and parcel of the war and bad times.
He was called the Black Captain, partly because of himself, and partly
because of his wonderful black mare. Strange stories were afloat of
how far and how fast that mare could go, when her master's hand was on
her mane and he whispered in her ear. Indeed, some people thought we
might reckon ourselves very lucky if we were not out of th