“I dare say,” said my aunt; “it doesn’t matter much, what you think, or what you are. You had some words with that stupid man, sir; I saw you. He looked as if he did not like it. Oh, I heard you, too.”
I vainly shook my head at her.
“Are you two going to fight? I am not sorry! I wish I could have that cat Ferguson out.”
“I hope—-oh—-I am sure, Mr. Wynne, it cannot be. How dreadful!” said Darthea.
“Nonsense!” cried my aunt. “A man cannot stand everything like a woman.”
I said plainly, seeing how vain my aunt had made concealment, that there had been some words, but that I trusted no harm would come of it.
“But there will! there will!” said Miss Peniston.
“Mercy upon us!” cried my aunt; for here was Darthea on the floor, and burnt feathers and vinegar at hand, servants running about, my aunt ordering “Cut her stay-strings!” as I was turned out, hearing my aunt declare, “I do believe she is in love with all the men. Is it you or the captain? What a shameless monkey to tumble all of a heap that way! It is hardly decent. Do go away, you goose! ‘Tis a way she has. Did never you see a woman faint?”
I never did, and I was scared faint myself. What between Darthea’s fainting spell, and this quarrel not of my seeking, I was uncomfortable enough. I had no one but Jack to appeal to; and here was a pair of Quaker lads, just over twenty-two, in a proper scrape. I had not the least intention of getting out of it, save in one way. The sneer at my aunt was more than I could endure. What my father would think was another matter.
Mr. Wilson used to say: “When you are in difficulties dispose of the worst first;” and so I resolved, as I must fight the man, and that was the imminent matter, to set aside all thought of my parent, until I was done with Mr. Woodville. Jack I took for granted, and so left a note with the servant asking my opponent’s friend to call on Jack at an hour when he was like to be alone. Before I could leave to warn him of what was on hand my aunt came to me.