od if you could hear
them!

RIGBY
(eyes a-gleam).
'Tis stirred enough already! Go on, lad, quickly!

RICHARD.
Josiah Quincy is presiding at the New Old South. 'Twas he who thought
of sending word to the governor. And now the governor has refused, and
if there's nothing done we're _beaten_--beaten, Tom Rigby, we who so
love freedom!

RIGBY.
Tut! Tut! Lad! The night's not done yet. Are they still at the meeting?

RICHARD.
Aye, and are like to be for the next hour. 'Tis scarcely six--just
candle-lighting time.

RIGBY.
You look white, lad. Have you eaten?

RICHARD.
Eaten! On such a day as this!

RIGBY.
Nonsense, lad. You must keep up your strength. (Crosses to serving-
table where bowl stands.) Here! If you will not eat, at least you can
drink a cup of steaming lemon punch. No _lads_ who come to my tavern
get anything stronger--unless, mayhap, a cup of apple juice. Youth is
its own best wine. Cider for you. Burgundy for your betters, eh, lad?
(Gives Richard a cup and takes a cup himself.) Here's to taxless tea!
(Drinks.)

RICHARD
(joining him in the toast).
And the confounding of the British! And now, since there are no red-
coats about, I may tell you that the Old South Church is not the only
place that's to hold a meeting. There's going to be one here.

RIGBY
(surprised).
Here?

RICHARD.
In less than half an hour the lads will meet me. We call ourselves "The
Younger Sons of Freedom."

RIGBY
(somewhat severely).
All that I have is at your service; yet 'tis only lately that lads have
been allowed to rove past curfew time.

RICHARD.
Such days as these lads grow to men right quickly. Do you think we
waste our time with games and--and snowball forts, Tom Rigby? No! The
Younger Sons of Freedom have learned to fight and fence, to run and
swim, and to swarm up a ship's ladder if need be. How could any lad be
idle these last nineteen days, with fathers and brothers patrolling the
wharves day and night to keep the tea from landing; when patriot
sentinels are stationed in every belfry; and when all Beacon Hill is
topped with tar-barrels ready to blaze out into signals at a moment's
notice. I tell you--my very dreams are of defiance! But my deeds--what
can a lad do when he goes through life halting? A maimed foot makes a
maimed ambition, unless--unless as I would fain believe, the spirit is
stronger than the body. It is the _will_ that counts.

RIGBY.
You're wiser than most lads, Richard. You've a head