“Why, so I have, Miss Sally. So I have.”
“And she married an Englishman, didn’t she?”
“Yes,” he answered with a bewildered air. “Yes, she did.”
“Now, Friend Deering,” she cried, shaking her finger at him earnestly, “just suppose that Kitty’s Englishman had come to thy house for shelter last Sixth-day, when it was so cold and stormy that thee would feel bad if the house cat was left outside? Suppose he had come asking for shelter? Would thee be any the less a friend to thy country if thee should listen to the dictates of humanity and give him shelter?”
“Bless my soul!” ejaculated Mr. Deering, again helping himself liberally to snuff. “Bless my soul!”
“Wouldn’t thee give him shelter?” persisted she. “Wouldn’t thee, Friend Deering?”
“Zounds! Of course I would,” he cried. “Englishman, or not. No matter what he was, I would turn no man from my door on such a day.”
“Of course thee wouldn’t,” she cried in a blaze of indignation. “Yet thee and thy fellows here want to indict Peggy and me for the very thing ye would do yourselves. Shame on ye!”
“Indict ye!” cried the old gentleman, getting to his feet with the agility of a youth. “Indict ye!” he roared, shaking his fist at the council belligerently. “If any man dares to indict so much as a hair of your pretty heads he shall answer to Jacob Deering.”