They found Madame sitting at breakfast along with Uncle David, and being waited upon by a negro-servant, Lucinda, the mother of Napoleon Pompey. The heat of a cooking-stove made Madame ill, therefore she required a servant, and she had what she required, principles of equality to the contrary notwithstanding. “Dear, dear!” exclaimed Uncle David in much excitement and perturbation. “Wal, to think now o’ what big raskills there is in the worl’, an’ we a-settin’ ’em such a good ’xample here o’ honesty an’ uprightness.” “We must summon the Assembly,” said Mary Winkle firmly. “It is a great pity Brothers Ezra and Dummy are both away, but there are quite enough left to deliberate.” “If you think that is the best plan, we had better do it at once, there should be no time wasted,” said Madame, looking interrogatively at Brother Wright’s frowning face. “If you ask me——” he began when his wife interrupted him. “We don’t ask you, Wright, at least not until the Assembly of Urgency is convened. Your vote doesn’t count for more than mine, and I demand an Assembly.” Wright shrugged his shoulders, and Madame smiled a little sarcastically. “We will summon it,” she said. “An’ I’ll jes’ step roun’ an’ fetch Sister Olive,” said Uncle David, putting on his hat as he spoke, “an’ you can bring together the rest of the brethren.” They came quickly enough when they heard of the loss of the brown mare, only Olive was absent. She was ill in bed with a headache and spoke to Uncle David out of a darkened room. Brother Wright detailed the loss of the horse, while the Assembly listened in deepest attention. “What we have to consider is the best means of recovering the horse if possible,” said Madame. “Does anyone know what is usually done under similar circumstances?” “The neighbours join together and run down the thief as quickly as possible,” said Brother Wright, with sharp emphasis. “And having run him down, hang him,” added Mary Winkle. “That course is impossible for us,” observed Madame. “That is a point I should like to debate,” said Brother Wright. “If we are to live here we must have horses, and we can’t keep horses if it is known to be against our principles to shoot a horse-thief. That is all I’ve got to say.” “An’ I want to notice the p’int o’ Injuns,” said Aunt Ruby. “Ef there’s Injuns as will do any wickedness un’er the sun, I want to know are we to sit still an’ be roasted on our own fires by wile savages like that, or will the men-folks defen’ us as other men do? An’ I likewise would wish to p’int out to the ’Sembly as border ruffians is mos’ly as bad as Injuns, an’ it stan’s to reason as horse-thieves is ’bout the same.”