"You, Preston!" And Daisy went off into a fit of amusement. "Can you make your eyes look with coarse fury?"
"You shall see. That's a good part. I should not like to trust it to anybody else. Alexander and Hamilton Rush will have to be the Queen's guards—how we want Ransom. Charley Linwood is too small. There's George, though."
"What does that woman look at the queen so for?"
"Wants to see her head come down—which it did soon after."
"Her head come down?"—
"It had come down pretty well then, when the proud, beautiful queen was exposed to the looks and insults of the rabble. But they wanted to see it come down on the scaffold."
"What had she been doing, to make them hate her?"
"She had been a queen;—and they had made up their minds that nobody ought to be queen, or anything else but rabble; so her head must come off. A great many other heads came off; for the same reason."
"Preston, I don't think the poor would hate that kind of thing so, if the rich people behaved right."
"How do you think rich people ought to behave?" said Preston gravely, turning over the engravings.