Now, coxcomb that I was, I sat there, dizzied by my new dignity, yet carefully watching Sir William to imitate him, thinking that, as I was now a man, I must observe the carriage, deportment, and tastes of men.
When Sir William declined a dish of jelly, I also waved it away, though God knew I loved jellies.
When Sir William drank the last of the winter's ale, I shoved aside my small-beer and sent for a mug.
"It will make a humming-top of your head," said Sir William. "Stick to small-beer, Micky."
Mortified, I tossed off my portion, and was very careful not to look at Silver Heels, being hot in the face.
Mr. Butler and Sir William spoke gravely of the discontent now rampant in the town of Boston, and of Captain John Johnson's mission to Albany. I listened greedily, sniffing for news of war, but understood little of their discourse save what pertained to the Indians.
Some mention, indeed, was made of rangers, but, having always associated militia and rangers with war on the Indians, I thought little of what they discussed. I even forgot my new dignity, and secretly pinched a bread crumb into the shape of a little pig which I showed to Silver Heels. She thereupon pinched out a dog with hound's ears for me to admire.
I was roused by Sir William's voice in solemn tones to Mr. Butler: "Now, God forbid I should live to see that, Captain Butler!" and I pricked up my ears once more, but made nothing of what followed, save that there were certain disloyal men in Massachusetts and New York who might rise against our King and that our Governor Tryon meant to take some measures concerning tea.
"Well, well," burst out Sir William at length; "in evil days let us thank God that the fish still swim! Eh, Micky? I wish the ice were out."
"The anchor-ice is afloat, and the Kennyetto is free, sir," I said, quickly.