"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!"