"But how can you charge us with any concern in it?"
"Wasn't it all a piece of work beginning with what we did to Master Lillie? Hasn't it grown out of that?"
"Of course not. Ebenezer Richardson's bloody deed had nothing to do with the soldiers," Amos cried, quickly, but at the same time a terrible fear took possession of him that possibly the tragedy on Hanover Street might have had some connection with that at the Custom House.
"But, Amos," Hardy continued, imploringly, "when poor little Chris Snyder was killed through what we did to Master Lillie, and you were as much concerned in the matter as I, you didn't accuse me then of being at fault."
"No," Amos said, slowly and thoughtfully, "because that which we did, so Master Revere said, was not done with any idea or possibility in our minds that bloodshed might follow."
"Nor was there in my mind any idea that bloodshed might follow when I told the crowd the soldier at the Custom House was the one who had knocked me down."
During several moments Amos stood silent and motionless.
Hardy's offending seemed less heinous in his eyes than it had a few moments previous, and he said, in a milder tone:
"I won't be one to accuse you, Hardy; but let me advise you to leave the affairs of the city to those who are older and have better judgment. Don't go about any more with such companions as have been yours during the past few days."
"Will you forgive me, Amos, for what I did yesterday?"