The Bravest of the Brave | Page 2

you
away for six months to the care of my sister Deborah, who will, I
warrant me, bring you to your senses."
The Mayor of Southampton must have been very angry indeed when he
spoke in this way to his daughter Alice, who in most matters had her
own way. Especially did it show that he was angry, since he so spoke in
the presence of Mistress Anthony, his wife, who was accustomed to
have a by no means unimportant share in any decision arrived at
respecting family matters.
She was too wise a woman, however, to attempt to arrest the torrent in

full flood, especially as it was a matter on which her husband had
already shown a very unusual determination to have his own way. She
therefore continued to work in silence, and paid no attention to the
appealing glance which her daughter, a girl of fourteen, cast toward her.
But although she said nothing, her husband understood in her silence an
unuttered protest.
"It is no use your taking that scamp's part, Mary, in this matter. I am
determined to have my own way, and the townspeople know well that
when Richard Anthony makes up his mind, nothing will move him."
"I have had no opportunity to take his part, Richard," his wife said
quietly; "you have been storming without interruption since you came
in five minutes ago, and I have not uttered a single word."
"But you agree with me, Mary--you cannot but agree with me--that it is
nothing short of a scandal for the daughter of the Mayor of
Southampton to be talking to a penniless young rogue like that at the
garden gate."
"Alice should not have met him there," Mistress Anthony said; "but
seeing that she is only fourteen years old, and the boy only sixteen, and
he her second cousin, I do not see that the matter is so very shocking."
"In four more years, Mistress Anthony," the mayor said profoundly,
"he will be twenty, and she will be eighteen."
"So I suppose, Richard; I am no great head at a figures, but even I can
reckon that. But as at present they are only fourteen and sixteen, I
repeat that I do not see that it matters--at least not so very much. Alice,
do you go to your room, and remain there till I send for you."
The girl without a word rose and retired. In the reign of King William
the Third implicit obedience was expected of children.
"I think, Richard," Mrs. Anthony went on when the door closed behind
her daughter, "you are not acting quite with your usual wisdom in
treating this matter in so serious a light, and in putting ideas into the
girl's head which would probably never have entered there otherwise.
Of course Alice is fond of Jack. It is only natural that she should be,
seeing that he is her second cousin, and that for two years they have
lived together under this roof."
"I was a fool, Mistress Anthony," the mayor said angrily, "ever to yield
to your persuasions in that matter. It was unfortunate, of course, that
the boy's father, the husband of your Cousin Margaret, should have

been turned out of his living by the Sectarians, as befell thousands of
other clergymen besides him. It was still more unfortunate that when
King Charles returned he did not get reinstated; but, after all, that was
Margaret's business and not mine; and if she was fool enough to marry
a pauper, and he well nigh old enough to be her father--well, as I say, it
was no business of mine."
"He was not a pauper, Richard, and you know it; and he made enough
by teaching to keep him and Margaret comfortably till he broke down
and died three years ago, and poor Margaret followed him to the grave
a year later. He was a good man--in every way a good man."
"Tut, tut! I am not saying he wasn't a good man. I am only saying that,
good or bad, it was no business of mine; and then nothing will do but I
must send for the boy and put him in my business. And a nice mess he
made of it--an idler, more careless apprentice, no cloth merchant,
especially one who stood well with his fellow citizens, and who was on
the highway to becoming mayor of his native city, was ever crossed
with."
"I think he was hardly as bad as that, Richard. I don't think you were
ever quite fair to the boy."
"Not fair, Mary! I am surprised at you. In what way was I not quite
fair?"
"I don't think you meant to be unfair, Richard; but you see you were a
little--just a little--prejudiced against him from the