He had a goodly girth and weighed full fifteen stone in his uniform; his mild blue eye had inspired confidence in a maiden of Billingsfield parish and Mrs.Gall was now rearing a numerous family of little Galls, all perhaps destined to become mild-eyed and portly village constables in their turn.
The squire, who was not destitute of a sense of humour, never thought of Mr.Gall without a smile, so much out of keeping did the man's occupation seem with his jovial humour.

Mr.Gall, he said, was the kind of policeman who would bribe a refractory tramp to move on by the present of a pint of beer.

But Gall had a good point.

He was very proud of his profession, and in the exercise of it he showed a discretion which, if it was the better part of his valour, argued unlimited natural courage.

It was a secret profession, he was wont to say, and a man who could not keep a secret would never do for a constable.