g man at Springtown: he
thought Uncle Peter was respectable, because the Dudgeons had a good
name. But his next example will be the best man in the town to whom he
can bring home a rebellious word. Well, we're all rebels; and you know
it.

ALL THE MEN (except Anderson). No, no, no!

RICHARD. Yes, you are. You haven't damned King George up hill and down
dale as I have; but you've prayed for his defeat; and you, Anthony
Anderson, have conducted the service, and sold your family bible to buy
a pair of pistols. They mayn't hang me, perhaps; because the moral
effect of the Devil's Disciple dancing on nothing wouldn't help them.
But a Minister! (Judith, dismayed, clings to Anderson) or a lawyer!
(Hawkins smiles like a man able to take care of himself) or an upright
horsedealer! (Uncle Titus snarls at him in rags and terror) or a
reformed drunkard (Uncle William, utterly unnerved, moans and wobbles
with fear) eh? Would that show that King George meant business--ha?

ANDERSON (perfectly self-possessed). Come, my dear: he is only trying
to frighten you. There is no danger. (He takes her out of the house.
The rest crowd to the door to follow him, except Essie, who remains
near Richard.)

RICHARD (boisterously derisive). Now then: how many of you will stay
with me; run up the American flag on the devil's house; and make a
fight for freedom? (They scramble out, Christy among them, hustling one
another in their haste.) Ha ha! Long live the devil! (To Mrs. Dudgeon,
who is following them) What mother! are you off too?

MRS. DUDGEON (deadly pale, with her hand on her heart as if she had
received a deathblow). My curse on you! My dying curse! (She goes out.)

RICHARD (calling after her). It will bring me luck. Ha ha ha!

ESSIE (anxiously). Mayn't I stay?

RICHARD (turning to her). What! Have they forgotten to save your soul
in their anxiety about their own bodies? Oh yes: you may stay. (He
turns excitedly away again and shakes his fist after them. His left
fist, also clenched, hangs down. Essie seizes it and kisses it, her
tears falling on it. He starts and looks at it.) Tears! The devil's
baptism! (She falls on her knees, sobbing. He stoops goodnaturedly to
raise her, saying) Oh yes, you may cry that way, Essie, if you like.

ACT II

Minister Anderson's house is in the main street of Websterbridge, not
far from the town hall. To the eye of the eighteenth century New
Englander, it is much grander than the plain farmhouse