omach."

"Nay, Captain, we'll not deal so harshly with the poor fellow at the
beginning, whatever may come at the end," said the Governor smiling.
"Howland, get the man his dram, and if he will not go, put him to sleep
in Hopkins's house and under his ward."

CHAPTER XVI.

PRISCILLA MOLINES' LETTER.

"John Alden, the captain says thou 'rt a ready writer. Didst learn that
along with coopering?"

"Nay, Mistress Priscilla, I was not dubbed cooper until I was a
se'nnight old, or so."

"Oho! Then thy schoolcraft all came in the first week of thy life. Eh?"

"Have thy way, Priscilla. Thou knowst well enow thou canst not anger
me."

"Truly? Well I never cared to see a man maiden-meek. But thou canst
write?"

"Ay, and so canst thou, I have heard."

"Heed not all thou hearest, John; no, nor believe all thou seest."

"But what about my pencraft? Can I do aught for thee, Priscilla?"

"Mayhap."

"And what is it, maid? Well thou knowest that it is more than joy for me
to do thy bidding."

"Nay, I know not what feeling 'more than joy' can be, unless haply it
topple over t' other side and become woe, and I would be loth to breed
thee woe."

"And I am as loth to let thee; but still thou dost it and will do it."

"Verily!"

"Ay, verily; but what is thy bidding, Priscilla? for I have an errand on
hand."

"And what weighty matter claims thee for its guardian?"

"Nay, 't is no such weighty matter, nor is it a secret. The governor
will have me warn the men to gather in the Common house to-morrow to
complete the affairs twice broken off by the visit of our red-skinned
neighbors."

"And mark my words, John, they'll come again to-morrow so sure as you
try to hold council. 'T is a fate, and you'll not escape it."

"Pooh, child! Dost believe in signs and fates?"

"My forbears did. Haply thou hadst none, and so escaped the corruption
of such folly."

"Nay now, Priscilla, each one of us has just as many grandsires as
another all the way back to Adam, only some of us have had more
important matter in hand than to reckon up their names, and 't will
never spoil a night's rest for me that I know not if my great-grandam
was Cicely or Phyllis. But tell me, mistress, what my pen can do for
thee?"

"Thy pen! Then 't is not thy heart or thy hand that is at my service?"
and Priscilla raised a pair of such melting and velvety brown eyes to
the somewhat offended face of the young giant that he at once tumbled
into th