, and looked askance at the
wife whom he beat upon occasion, but whose counsel he held in respect.

She turned upon him. "What do you mean? They talk and talk, and cry
shame,--and a shame it is, the Lord knows! But it never comes to
anything"--

"It has come to this," interrupted Darden, with an oath: "that this
Governor means to sweep in the corners; that the Commissary--damned
Scot!--to-day appointed a committee to inquire into the charges made
against me and Bailey and John Worden; that seven of my vestrymen are dead
against me; and that 'deprivation' has suddenly become a very common
word!"

"Seven of the vestry?" said his wife, after a pause. "Who are they?"

Darden told her.

"If Mr. Haward"--she began slowly, her green eyes steady upon the
situation. "There's not one of that seven would care to disoblige him. I
warrant you he could make them face about. They say he knew the Governor
in England, too; and there's his late gift to the college,--the Commissary
wouldn't forget that. If Mr. Haward would"--She broke off, and with knit
brows studied the problem more intently.

"If he would, he could," Darden finished for her. "With his interest this
cloud would go by, as others have done before. I know that, Deborah. And
that's the card I'm going to play."

"If you had gone to him, hat in hand, a month ago, he'd have done you any
favor," said his helpmate sourly. "But it is different now. He's over his
fancy; and besides, he's at Westover."

"He's in Williamsburgh, at Marot's ordinary," said the other. "As for his
being over his fancy,--I'll try that. Fancy or no fancy, if a woman asked
him for a fairing, he would give it her, or I don't know my gentleman.
We'll call his interest a ribbon or some such toy, and Audrey shall ask
him for it."

"Audrey is a fool!" cried Mistress Deborah. "And you had best be careful,
or you'll prove yourself another! There's been talk enough already.
Audrey, village innocent that she is, is the only one that doesn't know
it. The town's not the country; if he sets tongues a-clacking here"--

"He won't," said Darden roughly. "He's no hare-brained one-and-twenty! And
Audrey's a good girl. Go send her here, Deborah. Bid her fetch me Stagg's
inkhorn and a pen and a sheet of paper. If he does anything for me, it
will have to be done quickly. They're in haste to pull me out of saddle,
the damned canting pack! But I'll try conclusions with them!"

His wife departed, muttering to herself