Books: Janice Meredith

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Thus stimulated, Phil entered the garden, prepared to perform
most valiant deeds. Unfortunately for him, however, the
bondsman had been summoned by Janice to do the digging,
and his presence materially altered the situation and necessitated
a merely formal greeting.

Having given some directions to Charles for continuation of
the work, Janice walked to another part of the garden,
apparently quite heedless of Philemon. Her swain of course
followed, and the moment they were well out of hearing of the
servant, Janice turned upon him and demanded:--

"Art thou gentleman enough to keep thy word?"

"I hope as how I am, Miss Janice," stuttered Phil, very
much taken aback.

"Wilt give me your promise, if I tell thee something, to
repeat it to no one?"

"Certain, Miss Janice, I'll tell nothin' you don't want folks
ter know."

"Even dadda and mommy?"

"Cross my heart."

"You see that man over there?"

"Yer mean Charles?"

"Yes. He is desperately in love with me," announced the
girl.

"Living jingo! He 's been a-troublin' you?"

"No. He loves me too much to persecute me, and,
besides, he's a gentleman."

"Now, Miss Janice, you know as how I--"

"Am trying to marry me against my will."

"But the squire says you'll be gladsome enough a month
gone; that--"

"Ugh!"

"Now please don't--"

"And what I am going to tell you and what you've given
your word not to repeat is this: If you persist in trying to
marry me, if you so much as try to--to--to be familiar, that
moment I'll run off with him--there!"

"You never would!"

"In an instant."

"You 'd take a bondsman rather than me?"

The girl coloured, but replied, "Yes."

"I'll teach him ter have done with his cutty-eyed tricks,"
roared Phil, doubling up his fists, and turning, "I'll--"

"Mr. Hennion!" exclaimed the girl, her cheeks gone very
white. "You gave me your word that--"

"I never gave no word 'bout not threshing the lick."

"Most certainly you did, for you--you would have to tell
him before--and if you do that, I'll--"

"But, Miss Janice, you must n't disgrace--Damn him!
Then Bagby wasn't lyin' when he told me how there 'd been
talk at the tavern of his bundlin' with you."

For a moment Janice stood speechless, everything about her
suggesting the shame she was enduring. "He--he never
said that!" she panted more than spoke, as if she had ceased
to breathe.

"I told Bagby if he said that he was lyin'; but after--"

"Mr. Hennion, do you intend to insult me as well?"

"No, no, Miss Janice. I don't believe it. 'T was a lie for
certain, and I'm ashamed ter have spoke of it."

With unshed tears of mortification in her eyes Janice turned
to go, every other ill forgotten in this last grief.

"Miss Janice," called Phil, "you can't go without--"

The girl faced about. "You men are all alike," she cried,
interrupting. "You tease and worry and torture a girl you
pretend to care for, till 't is past endurance. I hate you, and
before I'll--"

"Now, Miss Janice, say you'll not run off with him. I'll
--I'll try ter do as you ask, if only you--"

"So long as you--as you don't--don't bother me, I
won't," promised Janice; "but the instant--"

And leaving the sentence thus broken, the girl left Philemon,
and fled to her room.

XVII
IN THE NAME OF LIBERTY

The scheme devised by Janice to keep Philemon
at arm's length would hardly have succeeded for
long, had not the squire been so preoccupied with
the election and with the now active farm work
that he paid little heed to the course of true love. Poor
Phil was teased by him now and again for his "offishness;"
but Janice carefully managed that their interviews were not
held in the presence of her parents, and so the elders did not
come to a realising sense of the condition, but really believed
that the courtship was advancing with due progress to the port
of matrimony.

Though this was a respite to Janice, she herself knew that
it was at best the most temporary of expedients, and that
the immediate press of affairs once over, her marriage with
Philemon was sure to be pushed to a conclusion. Already her
mother's discussions of clothes, of linen, and of furniture were
constant reminders of its imminence, and the mere fact that
the servants of Greenwood and the neighbourhood accepted
the matter as settled, made allusions to it too frequent for
Janice not to feel that her bondage was inevitable. A dozen
times a day the girl would catch her breath or pale or flush over
the prospect before her, frightened, as the bird in the net, not
so much by the present situation, as by what the future was
certain to bring to pass.

A still more serious matter was further to engross her parents'
thoughts. One evening late in April, as the squire sat
on the front porch resting from his day's labour, Charles, who
had been sent to the village on some errand, came cantering
up the road, and drew rein opposite.

[Illustration: "The prisoner is gone!"]

"Have better care how ye ride that filly, sir," said the
squire, sharply. "I'll not have her wind broke by hard
riding."

"I know enough of horses to do her no harm," answered
the man, dismounting easily and gracefully; "and if I rode a
bit quick, 't is because I've news that needs wings."

"What's to do?" demanded the master, laying down the
"Rivington's Royal Gazette" he had been reading.

"As I was buying the nails," replied the servant, speaking
with obvious excitement, "Mr. Bissel rode up to the tavern
with a letter from the Massachusetts Committee of Safety to
the southward; and as 't was of some moment, while he baited,
I took a copy of it." The groom held out a paper, his hand
shaking a little in his excitement, and with an eager look on
his face he watched the squire read the following:--

Water Town Wednesday Morning near 11 of Clock.
To all friends of american liberty, be it known, that this
morning before break of day, a Brigade, consisting of about
1,000 or 1,200 Men, landed at Phipp's Farm at Cambridge
and marched to Lexington, where they found a Company of
our Militia in Arms, upon whom they fired without any provocation
and killed 6 Men & wounded 4 others--By an express
from Boston we find another Brigade are now upon
their march from Boston, supposed to be about 1,000--The
bearer Israel Bissel is charged to alarm the Country quite to
Connecticut; and all Persons are desired to furnish him with
fresh Horses, as they may be needed--I have spoken with
several, who have seen the dead & wounded.
J. Palmer one of the Committee of safety.
Forwarded from Worcester April 19, 1775.
Brooklyn--Thursday 11 o Clock
Norwich 4 o Clock
New London 7 o Clock
Lynne--Friday Morning 1 o Clock
Say Brook 4 o Clock
Shillingsworth 7 o Clock
E. Gillford 8 o Clock
Guilford 10 o Clock
Bradford 12 o Clock
New Haven--April 21
Recd & fowarded on certain Intelligence
Fairfield April 22d 8 o Clock
New York Committee Chamber 4 o Clock
23d April 1775 P. M.
Recd the within Acct by Express, forwd by Express to
N Brunswick with directions to stop at Elizabeth Town &
acquaint the Committee there with the foregoing particulars by
order
J. S. Low, Chairman.

"Huh!" grunted the squire. "I said the day would come
when British regulars would teach the scamps a lesson. The
rapscallions are getting their bellyful, no doubt; 't is to be
hoped that it will bring law and quiet once again in the land."

"'T will more likely be the match that fires the mine.
You've little idea, Mr. Meredith, how strong and universal
the feeling is against Great Britain."

"'T is not as strong as British bayonets, that ye may tie to,
fellow."

The servant shook his head doubtfully. "'T will take a
long sword to reach this far, and Gage is not the man to
handle it."

"Odd's life!" swore the squire. "What know ye of Gage?
If every covenant man does n't think himself the better of a
major-general or a magistrate!"

"Had you ever made the voyage from England, you 'd
appreciate the difficulties. 'T is as big a military folly to
suppose that if America holds together she can be conquered
by bayonets, as 't is to suppose that she'll allow a rotten Parliament,
three thousand miles away, to rule her."

"Have done with such talk! What does a rogue like ye
know of Parliament, except that it passes the laws ye run
from? 'T is the like of ye--debtors, runaways, and such
trash--that is making all this trouble."

The servant laughed ironically. "Fools do more harm in
the world than knaves."

"What mean ye by that?" demanded the squire, hotly.

"'T is as reasonable to hold the American cause bad because
a few bad men take advantage of it as 't is to blame the flock
of sheep for giving the one wolf his covering. What the
Whigs demand is only what the English themselves fought
for under Pym and Hampden, and to-day, if the words 'Great
Britain' were but inserted in the acts of Parliament of which
America complains, there 'd be one rebellion from Land's End
to Duncansby Head."

"Didst not hear my order to cease such talk?" fumed the
squire. "Go to the stable where ye belong, fellow!"

The man coloured and bit his lip in a manifest attempt to
keep his temper, but he did not move, saying instead, "Mr.
Meredith, wilt please tell me what you paid for my bond?"

"Why ask ye that?"

"If I could pay you the amount--and something over--
wouldst be willing to release me from the covenant?"

"And why should I?" demanded the squire.

The servant hesitated, and then said in a low voice: "As
a gentleman, you must have seen I'm no groom--and think
how it must gall me to serve as one."

"Thou shouldst have thought of that before thou indentured,
rather--"

"I know," burst out the man, "but I was crazed--was
wild with--with a grief that had come to me, and knew not
what I was doing."

"Fudge! No romantics. Every redemptioner would have
it he is a gentleman, when he's only caught the trick by
waiting on them."

"But if I buy my time you--"

"How 'd come ye by the money?"

"I--I think I could get the amount."

"Ay. I doubt not ye know how money 's to be got by
hook or by crook! And no doubt ye want your freedom to
drill more rebels to the king. Ye'll not get it from me, so
there 's an end on 't." With which the squire rose, and
stamped into the hall and then to his office.

Charles stood for a moment looking at the ground, and
then raised his head so quickly that Janice, who had joined
the two during the foregoing dialogue and whose eyes were
upon him, had not time to look away. "Can't you persuade
him to let me go, Miss Janice?" he asked appealingly.

"Why do you want your freedom?" questioned Janice,
letting dignity surrender to curiosity.

"I want to get away from here--to get to a place where
there 's a chance for a quicker death than eating one 's heart
by inches."

"How beautifully he talks!" thought Janice.

"Nor will I bide here to see--to see--" went on the
bondsman, excitedly, "I must run, or I shall end by--'T will
be better to let me go before I turn mad."

"'T is as good as a romance," was Janice's mental opinion.
"How I wish Tibbie was here!"

"'T is no doubt a joke to you--oh! you need not have
avoided me as you've done lately to show me that I was
beneath you. I knew it without that. But who is this put
you are going to marry?"

"Mr. Hennion is of good family," answered Janice, with
Spirit.

"Good family!" laughed the man, bitterly. "No doubt he
is. Think you Phil Hennion is less the clout because he has
a pedigree? There are hogs in Yorkshire can show better
genealogies than royalty."

"'T is quite in keeping that a bond-servant should think
little of blood," retorted Janice, made angry by his open
contempt.

"Blood! Yes, I despise it, and so would you if you knew
it as I do," exclaimed Charles, hotly, cutting the air with his
whip. "That for all the blood in the world, unless there be
honour with it," he said.

"The fox did n't want the grapes."

"'T is no case of sour grapes, as you 'd know if I told you
my story."

"Oh! I should monstrous like to hear it," eagerly ejaculated
Janice.

The man dropped the bridle and came to the porch. "I
swore it should die with me, but there 's one woman in the
world to whom--" he began, and then checked himself as a
figure came into view on the lawn out of the growing darkness.
"Who's there?" Charles demanded.

"It's me--Joe Bagby," was the answer, as that individual
came forward. "Is the squire home, miss?" he asked; and,
receiving the reply that he was in his office, Joe volunteered
the information that a wish to talk with the lord of
Greenwood about the election was the motive of his call. "I
want to see if we can't fix things between us."

Scarcely had he spoken when there was a sudden rush of
men, who seemed to appear from nowhere, and at the same
instant Joe gave a shove to the bond-servant, which, being entirely
unexpected, sent him sprawling on the grass, where he
was pinioned by two of the party.

"Keep your mouth shut, or I'll have to choke you," said
Bagby to Janice, as she opened her mouth to scream. "Two
of you stand by her and keep her quiet. Sharp now, fellows,
he's in his office. Have him out, and some of you start a
fire, quick."

The orders were obeyed with celerity, and as some rushed
into the hall and dragged forth the squire, struggling, the
scene was lighted by the blazing up of a bunch of hay, which
had appeared as if by magic, and on which sticks of wood
were quickly burning. Over the fire a pot, swung on a stick
upheld by two men, was placed, telling a story of intention
only too obvious.

"There is n't any sort of use swearing like that, squire," said
Bagby. "We've got a thing or two to say, and if you won't
listen to it quiet, why, we'll fill your mouth with a lump of tar,
to give you something to chew on while we say it. Cussing
did n't prevent your being a babe in the wood, and it won't
prevent our giving you a bishop's coat; so if you don't want
it, have done, and listen to what we have to propose."

"Well?" demanded the squire.

"We've stood your conduct just as long as it was possible,
squire," went on Bagby, "and been forbearing, hoping you 'd
mend your ways. But it 's no use, and so we've come up this
evening to give you a last chance to put yourself right, for
we're a peace-loving, law-abiding lot, and don't want to use
nothing but moral suasion, as the parson puts it, unless you
make us."

"That 's it. Give it to him, Joe," said some one, approvingly.

"Now that the regulars of old Guelph have begun slaughtering
the sons of liberty, we have decided to put an end to
snakes in the grass, and so you can come to the face-about,
or you can have a coat of tar and a ride on a rail out of the
county. And what 's more, when you 're once out, you 're to
stay out, mind. Which is your choice?"

"What do you want me to do?" demanded the squire,
sullenly.

"First off we're tired of your brag that tea 's drunk on your
table. You 're to give us all you've got, and you 're not to
get any new, whether 't is East India or smuggled."

"I agree to that."

"Secondly," went on Bagby, in a sing-song voice, much as
if he was reading a series of resolutions, "you 're to sign the
Congress Association, and live up to it."

The squire looked to right and left, as if considering some
outlet; but there were men all about him, and after a pause he
merely nodded his head.

"You 're getting mighty reasonable, squire," remarked
Bagby, with a grin. "Lastly, we don't want to be represented
in Assembly by such a king's man, and so you're to decline a
poll."

"If the electors don't want me, let them say so at the
election."

"Some of your tenants are 'feared to vote against you, and
we intend that this election shall be unanimous for the friends
of liberty. Will you decline a poll?"

"Now damn me if--" began the squire.

"Come, come, squire," interrupted an elderly man.
"Yer've stud no chance of election from the fust, so what 's
the use of stickling?"

"I wash my hands of ye," roared the squire. "Have
whom ye want for what ye want. I've done with serving a
lot of ingrates. Ye can come to me in the future on your
knees, but ye'll not get me to--"

"That's just what we wants," broke in Joe. "If you 'd
always been so open to public opinion, we'd have had no
cause for complaint against you. And now, squire, since
a united land is what we wants, while your daughter gets
the tea and a pen to sign the Association, do the thing up
handsome by singing us the liberty song."

"Burn me if I will," cried the owner of Greenwood, like
many another yielding big points without much to-do, but
obstinate over the small ones.

"Is that tar about melted?" inquired Bagby.

"Jest the right consistency, Joe," responded one of the
pole-holders.

"Better sing it, squire," advised Bagby. "We know you 're
not much at a song, but the sentiments is what we like."

Once again the beset man looked to right and left, rage and
mortification united. Then, with a remark below his breath,
he sang in a very tuneless bass, that wandered at will between
flat and sharp, with not a little falsetto:--

"Come join Hand in Hand, brave Americans all,
And rouse your bold Hearts at fair Liberty's Call;
No tyrannous Acts shall suppress your just Claim
Or stain with Dishonour America's Name--
In Freedom we're born and in Freedom we'll live.
Our Purses are ready--
Steady, Friends, Steady--
Not as Slaves, but as Freemen our Money we'll give."

"That 's enough!" remarked the ringleader. "Now,
Watson, let the squire sign that broadside. Take the pot
off, boys, and dump the tea on the fire. Good-evening,
squire, and sweet dreams to you; I hope 't will be long before
you make us walk eight miles again. Fall in, Invincibles.
You've struck your first blow for freedom."

For a moment the steady tramp of the departing men was
all that broke the stillness of the night; but as they marched
they fell into song, and there came drifting back to the trio
standing silent about the porch the air of "Hearts of Oak,"
and the words:--

"Then join Hand in Hand, brave Americans all!
To be free is to live, to be Slaves is to fall;
Has the Land such a Dastard, as scorns not a Lord,
Who dreads not a Fetter much more than a Sword?
In Freedom we're born, and, like Sons of the Brave,
We'll never surrender,
But swear to defend her,
And scorn to survive, if unable to save."

XVIII
FIGUREHEADS AND LEADERS

The squire's mood in the next few days was anything
but genial, and his family, his servants, his farm-hands,
his tenants, and in fact all whom he encountered,
received a share of his spleen.

His ill-nature was not a little increased by hearing indirectly,
through his overseer, that it was the elder Hennion who had
planned the surprise party; and in revenge Mr. Meredith set
about the scheme, already hinted at, of buying assignments of
the mortgages on Boxley. For this purpose he announced
his intention of journeying to New York, and ordered Philemon
to be his travelling companion that he might have the
advantage of his knowledge of the holders of the elder Hennion's
bonds. The would-be son-in-law at first objected to
being made a cat's-paw, but the squire was obstinate, and
after a night upon it, Phil acceded. No other difficulty was
found in the attainment of Mr. Meredith's purpose, the money-lenders
in New York being only too glad, in the growing insecurity
and general suspension of law, to turn their investments
into cash. It was a task of some weeks to gather them all in,
but it was one of the keenest enjoyment to the squire, who
each evening, over his mulled wine in the King's Arms Tavern,
pictured and repictured the moment of triumph, when, with
the growing bundle of mortgages completed, he should ride to
Boxley and inform its occupant that he wished them paid.

"We'll show the old fox that he's got a ferret, not a goose,
to deal with," he said a dozen times to Phil,--a speech which
always made the latter look very uneasy, as if his conscience
were pricking.

This absence of father and lover gave Janice a really restful
breathing space, and it was the least eventful time the girl had
known since the advent of the bondsman nearly a year before.
Even he almost dropped out of the girl's life, for the farm-work
was now at its highest point of activity, and he was little
about house or stable. Furthermore, though twenty thousand
minutemen and volunteers were gathered before Boston, though
the thirteen colonies were aflame with war preparations, and
though the Continental Congress was voting a declaration on
taking up arms and appointing a general, nothing but vague
report of all this reached Greenwood.

In Brunswick, however, Dame Rumour was more precise,
and one afternoon as the bondsman rode into the town, with
some horses that needed shoeing, he was hailed by the tavern-keeper.

"Say! Folks tells that yer know how tew paint a bit?"
And, when Charles nodded, he continued: "Waal, we've
hearn word that the Congress has appinted a feller named
George Washington fer ginral, who 's goin' tew come through
here tew-morrer on his way tew Boston, an' I want tew git
that ere name painted out and his'n put in its place. Are yer
up tew it, and what 'ud the job tax me?" As the publican
spoke he pointed at the lettering below the weather-beaten
portrait of George the Third, which served as the signboard
of the tavern.

"Get me some colours, and bide till I leave these horses at
the smith's, and I'll do it for nothing," said Charles, smiling;
and ten minutes later, sitting on a barrel set in a cart, he was
doing his share toward the obliteration of kinghood and the
substitution of a comparatively unknown hero.

"'T is good luck that they both is called George," remarked
the tavern-keeper; "fer yer've only got tew paint out the
'King' an' put in a 'Gen.' in the first part, which saves
trouble right tew begin on."

Charles smilingly adopted the suggestion, and then measured
off "the III." "'T is a long name to get into such
space," he said.

"Scant it is," assented the publican. "I'll tell yer what.
Jist leave the 'the' an' paint in 'good' after it. That'll
make it read slick." Pleased with this solution of the difficulty,
the hotel-keeper retired to the "public," with a parting
invitation to the painter to drink something for his
trouble.

While Charles was doing the additional work, he was interrupted
by a roar of laughter, and, twisting about on his barrel,
he found a group of horsemen, who had come across the green
and drawn rein just behind him, looking at the newly lettered
sign. From the one of the three who rode first came the
burst of laughter--a man of medium size and thinly built,
perhaps fifty years of age, with a nose so out of proportion
to his face, in its size and heaviness, that it came near enough
to caricature to practically submerge all his other features.
The second man was evidently trying not to smile, and as
Charles glanced at him, he found him looking at the third of
the trio, as if to ascertain his mood. This last, a man of
extreme tallness, and in appearance by far the youngest of the
group--for he looked not over thirty at most--was scrutinising
the signboard gravely, but his eyes had a gleam of
merriment in them, which neutralised the set firmness of the
mouth. All the party were in uniform, save for a couple of
servants in livery, and all were well mounted.

"Haw, haw, haw!" laughed the noisy one. "Pray God
mine host be not as chary with his spit as he is with his paint
or 't will be lean entertainment."

"I said 't was best to make a push for 't to Amboy," remarked
the second.

"Nay, gentlemen," responded the third, smiling pleasantly.
"A man so prudent and economical must keep a good ordinary.
Better bide here for dinner and kill a warm afternoon,
and then push on to Amboy, in the cool of the evening, with
rested cattle."

"Within there!" shouted the noisy rider, "hast dinner and
bait for a dozen travellers?"

The call brought the publican to the door, and at first he
gasped a startled "By Jingo!" Then he jerked his cap off, and
ducked very low, saying: "'T was said, yer--yer--Lordship,
that yer 'd not come till the morrow. But if yer'll honour my
tavern, yer shall have the bestest in the house." He kept
bowing between every word to the man with the big nose.

"Then here we tarry for dinner," said the young-looking
man, gracefully swinging himself out of the saddle, a proceeding
imitated by all the riders. "Take good heed of the
horses, Bill," he said, as a coloured servant came forward.
"Wash Blueskin's nose and let him cool somewhat before
watering him." He turned toward the door of the tavern,
and this bringing Charles into vision again, he looked up at
the painter to find himself being studied with so intent a gaze
that he halted and returned the man's stare.