“Why shouldn’t I do it, mother?” I inquired, not a little astonished to find that she was inflamed by the rivalry between the two houses.
“Why shouldn’t you do it! Because it will make trouble, Wolfert. When the boat brought over the news that you had raised the dummy, or whatever they call the thing, and that you were running it on the railroad over there, the people howled just as though you had set the town on fire. The Wimpleton boys say they will mob you, tar and feather you, and I don’t know what not,” said my poor mother, who appeared to be really suffering under this manifestation of popular indignation.
“It seems just as though I am bound to put my foot in it, whether I will or not. Do folks tell the rest of the story?” I inquired.
“The rest of what story?” asked my mother, opening her eyes.
“Do they say that I was hunted out of town like a wild beast?” I demanded, indignantly.
“Why, no; they didn’t say anything of that kind. The girls came home just before dark, and said everybody was talking about you; that you had turned traitor.”
“Perhaps I have, mother; but I don’t care a fig for this three-cent quarrel between the two sides of the lake. I hope you won’t turn against me, mother,” I added, choking up with emotion, so that I could not speak.
“Turn against you! Why, no, Wolfert, I shall never turn against you. Who ever heard of such a thing?”
“You seem to blame me for what I have done,” I replied, wiping away a truant tear, and struggling hard for utterance.
“I only said what you have done will make trouble. You know Colonel Wimpleton will not like it; and he will punish us all for your acts.”