"Oh, that's nothing! Take the pen. It is your part to sign them, Phineas."
I obeyed.
"Isn't this better than hanging?" said John to the men, when he had distributed the little bits of paper—precious as pound-notes—and made them all fully understand the same. "Why, there isn't another gentleman in Norton Bury, who, if you had come to burn HIS house down, would not have had the constables or the soldiers, have shot down one-half of you like mad dogs, and sent the other half to the county gaol. Now, for all your misdoings, we let you go quietly home, well fed, and with food for children, too. WHY, think you?"
"I don't know," said Jacob Baines, humbly.
"I'll tell you. Because Abel Fletcher is a Quaker and a Christian."
"Hurrah for Abel Fletcher! hurrah for the Quakers!" shouted they, waking up the echoes down Norton Bury streets; which, of a surety, had never echoed to THAT shout before. And so the riot was over.
John Halifax closed the hall-door and came in—unsteadily—staggering. Jael placed a chair for him—worthy soul! she was wiping her old eyes. He sat down, shivering, speechless. I put my hand on his shoulder; he took it and pressed it hard.
"Oh! Phineas, lad, I'm glad; glad it's safe over."
"Yes, thank God!"
"Ay, indeed; thank God!"