"Therefore," pursued my great-uncle, "some of us have concerted it to seize a portion of Spain's treasure and turn it to the purpose of winning back for King James his crown."
"I am thinking 'tis not overhonest," she said doubtfully.
"You are no more than a lass," rebuked her father, emptying his second glass. "'Tis not for you to be saying what is honest and what is not honest in politics, of which you have no knowledge."
"Indeed," interposed my great-uncle, "the question as to what is honest and what is dishonest in politics is one upon which men have been unable to agree since the times of Aristotle."
"Yet even politicians can not honestly confuse the dishonesty of taking one man's gold for another man's profit," I put in.
Mistress O'Donnell gave me a sidewise look.
"We are speaking of kings, not of men," my great-uncle pointed out.
"I am afraid I will be of Master Ormerod's way of thinking," said the Irish maid.
"You talk nonsense, Moira," blustered her father. "Is it not better that this treasure should be employed to recover England and all the lands pertaining to the English crown for their rightful rulers—who will assist in the restoration of the True Faith—than that it should be poured into the pockets of the king's favorites at Madrid? You are only a child, and 'tis not fitting for you to know all that goes on in the world; yet common sense, ordinary religious devotion and affection for your king might tell you so much. Why, lass, there are great lords, aye, a prince of the Church, no less, that set the seal of their approval to what we do."
Moira O'Donnell hung her head.