CHAPTER IX
OUT OF THE FRYING-PAN INTO THE FIRE
“Long war without and frequent broil within
Had made a path for blood and giant sin,
That waited but a signal to begin
New havoc, such as civil discord blends,
Which knows no neuter, owns but foes or friends.”
—“Count Lara,” Byron.
The two mothers were at the door to greet them as David Owen brought the girls back. Both girls were much excited, half laughing, half crying, over the turn events had taken.
“’Tis good news, I can see,” said Mrs. Owen leading them into the sitting-room. “As to how it came about I can gather nothing clearly.”
“Oh, ’twas Sally, Sally,” cried Peggy. “’Tis said that Mr. Henry of Virginia is eloquent, but ye should have heard Sally. He could not excel her.”
“’Twas a complete rout,” declared Mr. Owen, his usual composure somewhat ruffled. “Here I was down-stairs beset with anxiety lest untoward sentences be passed upon the girls when down from the Council chamber they came, escorted by Mr. Jacob Deering and President Moore himself. Sally addressed the honorable body with so much unction, I hear, that thy uncle, Robert, at once declared for them. In fact, his championship took the form of a direct challenge, which caused so much merriment that the Council was unable to proceed with the business before it, and an adjournment was taken until this afternoon.”
“But what happened? What did you say? Do tell us, Sally,” urged Robert Dale. “I acknowledge that I am consumed with curiosity. I am sure the others are affected in like manner. We were just sitting here while you were gone trying to cheer each other by hoping that the sentence would be fines rather than imprisonment. And here you come back with neither, it seems, and colors flying. Do tell us what happened.”