“Paupers, every one of them!” cried a voice from the crowd.
“Perhaps worse’n that,” declared another. “They look to me like a parcel of thieves!”
“Paupers and thieves!” exclaimed a dozen in the same breath, until Deacon Cornhill turned pale, as he felt that ominous results were likely to come from his well-meant intentions.
The little party of strangers huddled together in great trepidation, excepting their leading spirit, Ragged Rob, who had so gladly yielded to the counsel of their protector and lent his influence toward getting them here. Something of the spirit of the stern man for whom he had been nicknamed flashed in Little Hickory’s eyes, and drawing his figure to its full height with a dignity felt all the more for the ragged suit in which he was clothed, he exclaimed, in a tone heard to the limit of the scene:
“Paupers and thieves, never! We are poor, but we are willing to earn an honest living. Deacon Cornhill, if we are not wanted here——”
“Tut, tut, lad!” said the other, in an undertone, “this will soon blow over,” though he had his misgivings.
“You see how it is, deacon, and how the people feel,” said the ’squire, with a ring of triumph in his voice. “This settling so many city hoodlums in our midst is a risky experiment. For my part, I had rather my house should burn down than to have such people in it.”
“It would be pretty sure to if they were in it,” cried a zealous friend.
“I do not believe there is a house on the Hare road they could get.”
“No, no, no!” came from every quarter.