"Aye, no doubt," the pedler agreed, as he arose from the table. "Now, if His Majesty could be got to sit down, comfort'ble, like another man might, an' listen to all we could tell him, he might agree to let us have what we want, an' what is only fair we should have, an' no fightin' need be done o'er the matter. The trouble is in this everlastin' lot o' lyin', gabblin' poll-parrots that he puts atwixt himself an' us, to tell him what the people do an' don't say an' do. An' to the poll-parrots he listens, and, listenin', b'lieves. So, for one, I should say the quicker we fight it out--whether it be in our streets or up to Boston--" Mary now came into the room looking very grave; and her husband, paying no further attention to the pedler, asked anxiously, "What is amiss, sweet wife?" She tried to speak quietly, but the tremor in her voice told of alarm. "Dorothy is awake," she said, "and I think you had best see her at once. She seems ill." They left the room together and were soon standing at the girl's bed,--one on either side, looking down at the restlessly moving head. The big eyes stared at Jack for an instant with evident recognition. Then a vacant look came into them, and she laughed in a way to fill him with apprehension. A moment more, and she began to mutter--something about Hugh Knollys falling into the water, and how dark and cool it was, and that she wanted to go into it, for she was hot,--so hot. "She is out of her head," Mary whispered; "and this is the way she went on, to me, before I called you." Her husband looked again at the unquiet little figure, and reached down to take the small hand wandering about the coverlid; but she snatched it from his clasp. "Go away,--go far away!" she cried. "I told you to go, and I meant it. Oh, yes,--I did mean it. I am only crying because I hate you,--never think it is for anything else. I hate you because your coat is red,--red, like the ruby ring you forced on my finger whether I would or no. And even the ring did not want to stay, for it knew me better than you did. It was so big that you had to hold it on; and now I've put it away safe,--safe, where no one will ever see, ever know. But it is red, and red means cruelty; and that is what this war is to be." The babbling died away in a moan; but before Jack or his wife could speak, Dorothy began again, now in a stronger voice than before. "Moll said it must bring sorrow,--sorrow. And yet she said I wound him like a silken thread around my finger. Ah, _that_ winds tight, although the ring was loose. And the thread Moll spoke of means love, but the ring means--But no, I must not tell, never, never, for it would kill my father. Father, I want you,--where are you?" This came in a loud cry, and she sank back sobbing, on the pillows,--for she had struggled partially to her elbow, where Jack held her so that she could rise no farther.