“Let ’em talk,” muttered the squire, angrily, looking up from the letter. “’T is nothing to me.”
“But Joe Bagby says there ’s a scheme ter git the committee of Brunswick township ter take it up.”
“Not they,” fumed Mr. Meredith. “’T is one thing to write anonymous letters, but quite another matter to stand up and be counted. As for that scamp Joe—”
“Anonymous letters?” questioned Philemon.
“Ay,” sputtered the squire, taking from his pocket a paper which he at once crushed into a ball, and then as promptly smoothed out again as a preliminary to handing it to the youth. With difficulty, for the writing was bad, and the paper old and dirty, Philemon read out the following:—
Mister Muridith,—
Noing that agenst the centyments of younited Amurika you still kontiyou to youse tea, thairfor, this is to worn you that we konsider you as an enemy of our kuntry, and if the same praktises are kontinyoud, you will shortly receeve a visit from the kommitty of
Tar And Fethers,
Brunswick Township.
“The villains!” cried Janice, flushing. “Who can have dared to send it?”
“One of my tenants, like as not,” snapped the squire.
“They ’d never dare,” asserted Janice.