“And by what authority,” retorted Larkham, “was the Papistical sign foisted into the standard of England, except by that of the scarlet woman, whose robes are red with the blood of the saints?”

“Methinks,” said the Colonel, “that the flag which waved at Cressy and Poitiers deserved a better fate.”

“I pray thee to take to heart and perpend,” answered Larkham, with some solemnity, “that I will yield in loyalty to no man, and that the last drop of blood I have is at the service of my country.  In this matter a distinction is to be taken.  It was not as a contemner of the flag of England, and of the glorious memories connected therewith (he would deserve my dagger in his heart if it were so,) that Capt.  Endicott cut out the cross, but as one who is zealous against error—­What! is it reasonable to ask us to march to battle with the sign of Rome flaunting over our heads?  Shall we do anything which may induce the poor savages (whom, as I am told, the emissaries of Rome are deluding, taking good care to keep out of our reach) to recognize her errors, and admit her power?”

“Such scruples,” said the Colonel, “neither you nor I ever heard at home.  It required a foreign soil to give birth to them,” and as he uttered the word foreign, he threw an emphasis on it which offended the other.

“I shall entreat of your courtesy,” said Larkham, slowly, “to weigh well the words which it may be your pleasure to apply to any opinions of mine, I will resent any imputations upon the loyalty of the colony, or upon mine own.”

“Think not to affect me by any threats, sir,” answered the Colonel, standing up, and looking sternly at his opponent.  “I say that it was the act of a rebel, and will avouch my words against you, though the whole colony were at your back.”

The last sentence was spoken in a defiant tone, and some mischief might have been the consequence, had not Master Prout, who for some time had been listening to the conversation, placed himself with his long staff in hand, between the two, and commanded the peace.

“I pray ye, gentlemen,” he said, addressing them in a manner very different (as becoming their quality) from the style he had adopted toward Capt.  Sparhawk, “to consider the great scandal ye occasion by this unseemly altercation.  Who is there doubts the godly zeal of Col.  McMahon, or the loyalty of Capt.  Larkham, or the valor of either?  There is no cause of enmity betwixt ye, but contrariwise of peace and good will.  How sweet it is for brethren to dwell together in unity!  It is like the precious oil that ran down Aaron’s beard, yea, even to the skirts of his garment.  I pray ye to be reconciled one to the other.”

Master Prout was exceedingly fond of hearing himself talk, and a shrewd man withal, he had purposely applied to each gentleman the quality in which he was deficient, and spun out his speech with great deliberation, in order to give time for the passion of the opponents to subside.  At its conclusion he was startled to hear a voice just behind him exclaim,