“Child, have you dared to write my name?”
“Nay, father, I have not,” replied the girl.
Even as she spoke there were confused cries, heavy falls, and a rush in the hall, and instantly the room was filled with men, their faces flushed with excitement and drink. The guard had been overpowered.
“Whar's that paper?”
“Hain't they signed?”
“We'll make ye sign, dum quick.”
“We're a gonter tie ye up an give it to ye on the bare back.”
“We'll give ye a dose o' yer own med'cin.”
“I don' wanter hurt ye, sis, but ye muss git aout o' the way,” said a burly fellow to Eliza, who, with her mother, had thrown herself between the mob and Justice Dwight, his undaunted aspect appearing to excite the special animosity of the rabble. The other three justices were huddled in the furthest corner.
“It's all right, men, it's all right. No need of any more words. Here's the paper,” said Perez, authoritatively. A man caught it from his hand and gave it to another, saying,