"The St. Lawrence is frozen. There will be no French ships for Canada for two months yet."
Juggins pursed his lips in that quaint gesture of a whistle which was a characteristic trait.
"They use our goods," he muttered; "they use our rivers, our trading-posts, our people, the tribes which are friendly to us—and now they use our ships."
"Often," admitted Jenkins disinterestedly. "Since the Peace of Utrecht we ha' done a sight o' shipping business with the Frenchies."
"'Tis to our shame," declared Master Juggins roundly.
"Why, 'tis business," answered Jenkins with his first show of interest. "Would you have a merchant reject the trade that came his way?"
"Aye, if 'twas not to his interest to accept it," rejoined Juggins.
"Show me a heathen, let alone a Frenchy, will pay a farthing more than an Englishman, and I'll show you a better customer," said the ship-owner. "Trade is trade. Leave politics to governments. If I make not my own living, will the gentry at Westminster carry my debts? I think not."
Juggins swelled with indignation.
"God help England when men like you come to rule it, Tom Jenkins!" he declared. "Good afternoon to you."