“Bless the lad!—he’ll deafen a body, sure enough! Now then, speak, caitiff, and tell us what’s ado with Mistress Benden. Is she let off?”
“She’s sent a-prison,” shouted Silas, in tones which seemed likely to carry that information down the row. “Justice axed her why she went not to church, and quoth she, ‘That can I not do, with a good conscience, since there is much idolatry committed against the glory of God.’ And then she was committed. Justice didn’t love his work o’er well, and Master Benden, as he was a-coming away, looked as sour as crabs. And old Tabby—Oh, lack-a-daisy-me! didn’t she have at him! She’s a good un, and no mistake! She stuck to his heels all the way along, and she beat him black and blue with her tongue, and he looked like a butt of alegar with a hogshead o’ mustard in it. Hooray for old Tabby!”—and Silas announced that sentiment to the neighbourhood at the top of his very unsubdued voice.
Chapter Five.
Repentance.
“Sil-van-us Par-due!” Five very distinct syllables from his mother greeted the speech wherein Master Silas expressed his appreciation of the action of Mrs Tabitha Hall. “Silas, I would you were as ’shamed of yourself as I am of you.”
“Well, Mother,” responded Silas, with a twinkle in a pair of shining brown eyes, “if you’ll run up yonder ladder and take half a look at Esdras, you’ll not feel nigh so ’shamed of me at after!”
This skilful diversion of the attack from himself to his brother—a feat wherein every son of Adam is as clever as his forefather—effected the end which Master Silvanus had proposed to himself.
“Dear heart alive!” cried Mrs Pardue, in a flutter, “has that lad tore his self all o’ pieces?”