“Sartin they approved the Congress doins, nemine contradicente, as they wuz baound ter do since all aginst kep away, but—”
“Dost mean to say ye voted for it?” demanded Mr. Meredith.
Squire Hennion’s long, shrewd face slightly broadened as he smiled. “I wuz jest stepped over ter the ordinary ter git a nipperkin of ale when thet ere vote wuz took.”
“Who let the hotheads control, then?” jerked out Mr. Meredith.
“’T ain’t no sort of use ter hev my neebours set agin me.”
“And ye’ll vote at Burlington as they tell ye?” fumed the squire.
“I’m rayther fearsome my rheumatiz will keep me ter hum this winter weather. I’ve had some mortal bad twinges naow an’ agin.”
“Now damn me!” swore the squire, rising and pacing the room with angry strides. “And ye come here to blame me for neglecting a chance to check ’em.”
“I duz,” responded Hennion. “If I go ter Assembly, ’t won’t prevent theer votin’ fer what they wants. But if yer had attended thet ’ere meetin’, we could hev stopped them from votin’ ter git up a militia company an’ ter buy twenty barrels—”
“Dost mean to say they voted rebellion?” roared Mr. Meredith, halting in his angry stride.