Tacy. He was like a mad
bull, eager for war, and behold--he is fed and petted. Ah, but he was
furious and bedazed. Tacy, I would you had seen it."

It was at last quite too much of a trial for Josiah, who turned from
Gainor to Schmidt, and then to De Courval, with wild opinions, to which
every one in turn agreed, until at last, beginning to suspect that he
was being played with, he selected a subject sure to make his hostess
angry. A look of pugnacious greed for a bone of contest showed on his
bulldog face as he turned to Mistress Wynne. "This Madeira is on its
last legs, Gainor."

"All of us are," laughed Schmidt.

"It is hardly good enough for my toast."

"Indeed," said Gainor; "we shall know when we hear it."

Then Josiah knew that for her to agree with him would this time be
impossible. He smiled. "When I am at home, Gainor, as thee knows, I
drink to our lawful king." He rose to his feet. "Here's to George the
Third."

Gainor was equal to the occasion.

"Wait a little, Josiah. Take away Mr. Langstroth's glass, Caesar. Go to
the kitchen and fetch one of the glasses I use no more because the
Hessian hogs used them for troughs when they were quartered on me in
the war. Caesar, a Hessian wine-glass for Mr. Langstroth."

De Courval listened in astonishment, while Schmidt, laughing, cried, "I
will drink to George with pleasure."

"I know," cried Margaret: "to George Washington."

Schmidt laughed. "You are too sharp, Pearl. In a minute, but for your
saucy tongue, I should have trapped our Tory friend. To George the
greater," said Schmidt.

The Quaker turned down his glass. "Not I, indeed."

"I hope the poor man will never hear of it, Josiah," said Miss Wynne as
she rose laughing, and presently Schmidt and the young people went away,
followed shortly after by Langstroth.

For a while Margaret walked on in silence, De Courval and the German
talking. At last she said: "Thou shouldst know that my uncle is not as
bad as he seems. He is really a kind and generous man, but he loves to
contradict my aunt, and no one else can so easily make her angry."

"Ah, Pearl, the Madeira was good," said Schmidt--"too good; or, rather,
the several Madeiras. In the multitude of vinous counselers there is
little wisdom, and the man's ways would tempt an angel to mischief."

Mrs. Swanwick, being alone, had gone out to take supper with a friend,
and as Margaret left them in the hall, Schmidt said to De Courval: "Come
in. I have