"And with a comment I permit no man to make. You said, 'no doubt he got it.' I want an apology at once." He went around the table to where Swallow sat.
The lawyer rose, saying, "Every one will know to-day that Josiah was a runaway slave. His master will be here this evening. Whoever warned him is liable under the Fugitive-Slave Act—Mrs. Penhallow drew the money and—"
"One word more, sir, of my wife, and I will thrash you. It is clear that you know all about the matter and connect my wife with this man's escape—you have insulted her."
"Oh, Mr. Penhallow," said the old farmer who presided, "I beg of you—"
"Keep quiet," said the Squire, "this is my business."
"I did not mean to insult Mrs. Penhallow," said Swallow; "I apologize—I—"
"You miserable dog," said Penhallow, "you are both a coward and a lying, usurious plunderer of hard-working men. You may be thankful that I am a good-tempered man—but take care."
"I shall ask this board to remember what has been said of me," said
Swallow. "The law—"
"Law! The law of the cowhide is what you will get if I hear again that you have used my wife's name. Good-day, gentlemen."
He went our furious and rode homeward at speed. Before the Squire reached Grey Pine he had recovered his temper and his habitual capacity to meet the difficulties of life with judicial calmness. He had long been sure that Josiah had been a slave and had run away. But after these years, that he should have been discovered in this remote little town seemed to him singular. The man was useful to him in several ways and had won his entire respect and liking, so that he felt personal annoyance because of this valuable servant having been scared away. That Ann had been in any way concerned in aiding his escape perplexed him, as he remembered how entire was her belief in the creed of the masters of slaves who with their Northern allies had so long been the controlling legislative power of the country.