The news of my return had spread all over town, so that I had a deal more handshaking to do when we went to the Coffee House for breakfast.  All the quality were in the country, of course, save only four gentlemen of the local Patriots’ committee, of which Captain Daniel was a member, and with whom he had an appointment at ten.  It was Mr. Swain who arrived first of the four.

This old friend of my childhood was a quiet man (I may not have specified), thin, and a little under stature, with a receding but thoughtful forehead.  But he could express as much of joy and welcome in his face and manner as could Captain Daniel with his heartier ways.

“It does me good to see you, lad,” he said, pressing my hand.  “I heard you were home, and sent off an express to Patty and the mother last night.”

“And are they not here?” I asked, with disappointment.

Mr. Swain smiled.

“I have done a rash thing since I saw you, Richard, and bought a little plantation in Talbot, next to Singleton’s.  It will be my ruin,” he added.  “A lawyer has no business with landed ambitions.”

“A little plantation!” echoed the captain. “’Od’s life, he has bought one of his Lordship’s own manors—­as good an estate as there is in the province.”

“You overdo it, Daniel,” said he, reprovingly.

At that moment there was a stir in the doorway, and in came Mr. Carroll, the barrister, and Mr. Bordley and Colonel Lloyd.  These gentlemen gave me such a welcome as those warm-hearted planters and lawyers knew how to bestow.

“What, he!” cried Mr. Lloyd, “I’m stamped and taxed if it isn’t young Richard Carvel himself.  Well,” says he, “I know one who will sleep easier o’ nights now,—­one Clapsaddle.  The gray hairs are forgot, Daniel.  We had more to-do over your disappearance than when Mr. Worthington lost his musical nigger.  Where a deuce have you been, sir?”

“He shall tell us when we come back,” said Mr. Bordley.  “He has brought our worthy association to a standstill once, and now we must proceed about our business.  Will you come, Richard?  I believe you have proved yourself a sufficiently good patriot, and in this very house.”

We went down Church Street, I walking behind with Colonel Lloyd, and so proud to be in such company that I cared not a groat whether Grafton had my acres or not.  I remembered that the committee all wore plain and sober clothes, and carried no swords.  Mr. Swain alone had a wig.  I had been away but seven months, and yet here was a perceptible change.  In these dignified and determined gentlemen England had more to fear than in all the mobs at Mr. Wilkes’s back.  How I wished that Charles Fox might have been with me.