“’Good morning to your warships now, and a merry Christmas all of you!  And the merrier both for rich and poor, when gentlemen see their almsgiving.  Lest you deny yourselves the pleasure, I will aid your warships.  And to save you the trouble of following me, when your guns be loaded—­this is my strawberry mare, gentlemen, only with a little cream on her.  Gentlemen all, in the name of the King, I thank you.’

“All this while he was casting their money among the poor folk by the handful; and then he spak kaindly to the red mare, and wor over the back of the hill in two zeconds, and best part of two maile away, I reckon, afore ever a gun wor loaded."*

* The truth of this story is well established by first-rate tradition.

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CHAPTER XL

TWO FOOLS TOGETHER

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That story of John Fry’s, instead of causing any amusement, gave us great disquietude; not only because it showed that Tom Faggus could not resist sudden temptation and the delight of wildness, but also that we greatly feared lest the King’s pardon might be annulled, and all his kindness cancelled, by a reckless deed of that sort.  It was true (as Annie insisted continually, even with tears, to wear in her arguments) that Tom had not brought away anything, except the warrants, which were of no use at all, after receipt of the pardon; neither had he used any violence, except just to frighten people; but could it be established, even towards Christmas-time, that Tom had a right to give alms, right and left, out of other people’s money?

Dear Annie appeared to believe that it could; saying that if the rich continually chose to forget the poor, a man who forced them to remember, and so to do good to themselves and to others, was a public benefactor, and entitled to every blessing.  But I knew, and so Lizzie knew—­John Fry being now out of hearing—­that this was not sound argument.  For, if it came to that, any man might take the King by the throat, and make him cast away among the poor the money which he wanted sadly for Her Grace the Duchess, and the beautiful Countess, of this, and of that.  Lizzie, of course, knew nothing about His Majesty’s diversions, which were not fit for a young maid’s thoughts; but I now put the form of the argument as it occurred to me.

Therefore I said, once for all (and both my sisters always listened when I used the deep voice from my chest): 

“Tom Faggus hath done wrong herein; wrong to himself, and to our Annie.  All he need have done was to show his pardon, and the magistrates would have rejoiced with him.  He might have led a most godly life, and have been respected by everybody; and knowing how brave Tom is, I thought that he would have done as much.  Now if I were in love with a maid”—­I put it thus for the sake of poor Lizzie—­“never would I so imperil my life, and her fortune in life along with me, for the sake of a poor diversion.  A man’s first duty is to the women, who are forced to hang upon him”—­