Part 23 (1/2)
”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?”