“Well, how is the Mary Jane getting on? Have you found anything in the market on which we can turn a penny? I want to get her off as soon as possible.”
“I was just having a talk with this young gentleman about his cheeses. This is Mr. Walden from Rumford. You perhaps may remember his father, with whom we traded last year.”
“Oh yes, I remember Mr. Joshua Walden. I hope your father is well. I have not forgotten his earnestness in all matters relating to the welfare of the Colonies. Nor have I forgotten that barrel of apple-sauce he brought to market, and I want to make a bargain for another barrel just like it. All my guests pronounced it superb. Step into the store, Mr. Walden, and, Mr. Ledger, a bottle of madeira, if you please.”
The clerk stepped down cellar and returned with a bottle of wine, took from a cupboard a salver and glasses and filled them.
“Shall we have the pleasure of drinking the health of your father?” said Mr. Hancock, courteously touching his glass to Robert’s. “Please give him my compliments and say to him that we expect New Hampshire to stand shoulder to shoulder with Massachusetts in the cause of liberty.”
Mr. Hancock drank his wine slowly. Robert saw that he stood erect, and remembered he was captain of a military company—the Cadets.
“Will you allow me to take a glass with you for your own health?” he said, refilling the glasses and bowing with dignity and again slowly drinking.
“Mr. Ledger, you will please do what you can to accommodate Mr. Walden in the way of trade. You are right in thinking the planters of Jamaica will like some cheese from our New England dairies, and you may as well unload them at the dock; it will save rehandling them. We must have Mary Jane scudding away as soon as possible.”
Mr. Hancock bowed once more and sat down to his writing-desk.
Robert drove his wagon alongside the ship and unloaded the cheeses, then called at the stores around Faneuil Hall to find a market for the yarn and cloth and his wool. Few were ready to pay him money, but at last all was sold.