Uncle Nathan put his hand to his bald head. The absence of his wig appeared to disconcert him, and it was his brother who answered first.
"Yes," said Uncle Daniel. "Here is one who has something plain to say. You are a villain, sir. I am Daniel Frothingham, much at your service."
Again Mr. Hewes bowed. "You are an old man," he said. "But guard your words, I pray of you."
"I need guard no words when talking to a traitor," half shouted Uncle Daniel.
"A traitor to what or whom, may I inquire?" said Mr. Hewes, lifting his eyebrows.
"To your King," was the rejoinder. "I have heard of your rebellious speech."
"We may have no King here shortly," replied Mr. Hewes; "and in saying so I am but far-sighted. Still I warn you, guard your words!"
Nathaniel had by this time recovered his wig and his composure, although he looked redder than ever.
"This is my quarrel, brother," he said, turning first to Daniel and then to his hated neighbor. "Look here, you sneering rebel, I am not too old, and my words shall not be guarded at your orders," he added.
"Hold," said Mr. Hewes; "no need of further talk; do you mean to force a meeting with me?"