“Right is right, Thomas Rose!” cried Underhill, somewhat hotly.
“Truth, friend,” answered he, “and wrong is wrong. But which were the right, and which were the wrong, of these two afore God, perchance you and I might differ.”
“Differ, forsooth!” cried Underhill again. “Be two and two come to make five? or is there no variance in your eyes betwixt watchet (pale blue) and brasil (red)? The matter is as plain to be seen as Westminster Abbey, if a man shut not his eyes.”
“I have known men do such things,” said Mr Rose, with his quiet smile.
“I thank you, my master!” responded Underhill. “So have I.”
“Now, Ned Underhill, leave wrangling,” said Avery. “We be none of us neither prophets nor apostles.”
“‘Brethren, be ye all of one mind,’” repeated Dr Thorpe.
“I am ready enough to be of one mind with Rose,” said Underhill, “an’ he will listen to reason.”
“That is,” answered John, smiling, “an’ he will come over to you, and look through your spectacles.”
“Man o’ life! we can’t be both right!” cried Underhill, striking his hand heavily on the table.