“An enemy hath but just made most shameful charges against my husband, sir,” says Dorothy, “and he is in some degree minded to submit and make no attempt to clear himself.”
“Well,” saith Mr Martin, “Every man as he loveth, as the good man said, when hee kist his cow; but in this case I would say that if these charges may be disproved, they should be so. And pray, madam, what may they be, and who is’t brings ’em?”
For answer we did lay before him Mr Spender’s letter, which Mr Martin read through very carefully, and then sat for some time considering, with his chin on his hand.
“Well, sir?” saith Dorothy at last.
“I think, madam,” says he slowly, “that you were right to suppose that I might furnish you with weapons against this person’s accusations. When must your answer be returned to the charge, Ned?”
I told him of the ball to be danced on the next evening, and of the threats of public insult there that I had received.
“Then this,” said he, “is my counsel. Send word at once to Sir Ambrose, begging him and the other gentlemen that are interested in the matter, and in especial Mr Spender himself, to meet you in a private room at the inn an hour before the dancing begin. Say that you hope to have an answer to the charges, but make no mention of me, and bid your servants not betray my arrival to any one in the town. ’Tis well I came from the t’other side of you, and so had no need to pass through Puckle Acton.”
“Then you can confute this man Spender, sir?” asks Dorothy.
“Madam,” says he, “I make no doubt but to-morrow we shall see a very pretty comedy played in the inn-parlour. The False Charge, or the Accuser Unmasked, hath an agreeable sound, han’t it? They say, He that mischief hatcheth, mischief catcheth, and methinks Mr Vane Spender won’t find it otherwise.”
“You are indeed an angel, sir,” says Dorothy, and kissed him on the forehead.