"Allison is a Scotchman. I happened to be at Norfolk when he landed from the old country. The captain told me the fellow had been brought on board unconscious and with a bad wound in his head. I liked the man's face, and asked no questions. He never spoke of the matter. I paid the cost of his passage and let him work it out. He's a good accountant." "An objectionable person, probably an escaped convict," remarked Mogridge with the air of a judge. "On the contrary he seems a most respectable man. To be sure he's a Dissenter, but one has to expect that. I've always found him trustworthy. He has taught a field school for years and the children make good progress under his instruction." "You can't mean that you allow Lisbeth to go to such a school?" "Well, you see," replied the squire as if in excuse, "the school is a small one, confined to my neighbours' children, otherwise I wouldn't allow it." "So she associates with such boys as that Allison." "He's a fine lad. His mother was a Tawbee, old Squire Tawbee's daughter. She was a playmate of mine and lived at Greenwood till it had to be sold, after the squire's death, to pay the debts." "But you don't know about the father?" "I said," replied the squire, rather testily, "that he's a decent man except for his revolutionary notions. He wants to say 'amen' every time Patrick Henry opens his mouth. That, I have no patience with. England has helped us fight our foes. This hullabaloo about no taxation without representation fills the ears of the ignorant. Why, fifty years ago the chronic growlers opposed the establishment of a postal service because the government, without consulting the colonies, charged postage on the letters." "It seems, however, that you are providing a living for a man who is a chronic growler and opposed to you." There was the evident suggestion of a sneer in Mogridge's voice. "Well, I suppose I might look at it that way. I took him up when he hadn't a friend." "Pardon me, but I do not see how one might look at it in any other way. A fellow who will do as you say he is doing, is an ingrate." The squire frowned, but made no reply, and Henry Mogridge smiled unpleasantly, for he saw that his words were surely poisoning his uncle's thoughts respecting the Allisons. CHAPTER II SEVERAL PEOPLE HAVE TROUBLES Mogridge's sneers went to bed with the squire and arose with him in the morning. The thought that a man whom he had befriended was opposing him rankled deeply. And while in this irritable condition one of the first persons the squire met was David Allison, who had come early to work on the accounts. "Good morning, Allison," was the squire's greeting, spoken gruffly. "Good morning, Squire Danesford," replied the Scotchman. "I thought I wad coom early an' ha' the work oot o' the way." "So as to have time for carrying on your treasonable mischief, I suppose." "Excuse me, Squire, but I dinna think I understand."