Fuming, the squire went to his morning meal, at which he
announced his intention to ride to Brunswick and the purport
of the trip.

"Oh, dadda, he--please don't!" begged Janice.

"And why not, child?" demanded her mother.

"Because he--oh! he is n't like most bondsmen and--"

"What did I tell thee, Lambert?" said Mrs. Meredith.

"Nonsense, Matilda," snorted the squire. "The lass gave
me her word for 't--"

"Word!" ejaculated the wife. "What 's a word or anything
else when--Since thee 's sent Phil off, the quicker thee
comes to my mind, and gives her to the parson, the better."

"What mean ye by objecting to this fellow being flogged,
Jan?" asked the father.

Poor Janice, torn between the two difficulties, subsided, and
meekly responded, "I--Well, I don't like to have things
whipped, dadda. But if Charles deserves it, of course he--
he--'t is right."

"There!" said Mr. Meredith, "ye see the lass has the
sense of it."