From indications, the subject of Tories was one that had great interest for the stout host of the “Plow and Harrow.” He puffed out his cheeks and smoothed the white apron carefully.
“Preserve me from any such!” said he. “They come sneaking into one’s house, prying and asking questions. And all the time they have it in their hearts to send one to the gallows. They should be dealt with hardly!”
“They are a poisonous tribe,” said Jason Collyer. He darted a covert look at Ezra as he said this, and the boy noted a smile of satisfaction upon his thin lips. Like an inspiration, the other’s intention flashed upon the boy.
“He’s sounded the landlord upon this subject with one thought in his mind,” Ezra told himself. “He’ll tell him that Ben and I are Tories; and so these friends of his will be left to work their wills with us.”
Ezra was not a lad to sit and ponder while something to his injury was going forward. With the solution of the other’s plan, came a counterplot with which he hoped to balk it.
“If you will pardon me, sir,” spoke he, leaning forward, his elbows upon the table, “I would like to agree with you in what you have said. The greatest enemies of the colonies are those who should naturally be at one with us—the Tories.”
“Truly spoken, young gentleman,” beamed the landlord, “and very well spoken too.”
Jason Collyer was about to say something, but Ezra calmly waved him down, riveting the host’s attention with a look.
“And, as you say, sir,” with a little bow, “they intrude themselves into one’s very house with the basest of intentions against one’s peace. And they come when least expected, also in many guises.”
He looked coolly toward the man who still stood watching from the window, and proceeded, slightly lifting his voice: