The two wenches roved the hot and dusty streets. Small streams of sweat cascaded down the backs of their necks and converged between their scapulas. They decided they were in need of liquid replenishment and so, located an ale-house. Not Nancy's favorite, this particular place carried the theme of 'the Plague' and was strangely decorated. Nancy had once been told that the animal parts- the horse tails, fish heads and pigs snouts, that were hanging from the ceiling and laying about on the counter- were traditional cures. Not that they had ever worked. But Morgan liked it and in spite of the stench from the heat and the carcass bits, the thirsty wenches squeezed to the front of the line where they waved rumpled, green bills in the air to arouse the barmaids' attentions. A man stood to one side, neatly dressed in black breeches, a vest, a very long dark coat and a tall black hat that was shaped like a stumpy traffic cone. He was babbling, rather loudly, to what seemed to be no one in particular. Morgan hauled herself up to the bar on her elbows, rubbed her chin and asked for some 'kill-devil'. "Huh?" said the broad-faced girl behind the counter, raising the left side of her upper lip and squinting an eye. The man in black had begun to roar. "What?" "I said 'huh?'" Like the others behind the counter, the girl had phony sores on her face and her arms that looked all too real to Nancy. "What, you haven't any rum about this place?" asked Morgan in disbelief. "Mum?" Nancy tried to get a word in as well, but each time she opened her mouth to speak, the thundering orator revved up his unheeded sermon. The two finally gave up and Morgan returned to her original pursuit at the bar.