“One man!” protested the dragoon.  “Think you one man could do that?”

“Janice insists that there was but Brereton—­but Charles Fownes, now a rebel colonel.”

“You may lay ter it there was mor’n—­” Then Philemon wavered, for the sight of the flushed, guilty look on the girl’s face gave a new bent to his thoughts.  “What was he here for?” he vociferated, growing angrily red as he spoke and striding to the fire.  “So he’s doin’ the Jerry Sneak about you yet, is he?  I tell you, squire, I won’t have it.”

“Keep thy blustering and bullying for the mess-room and the tavern, sir,” rebuked Clowes, sharply, also showing temper.  “What camp manners are these to bring into gentlemen’s houses and exhibit in the presence of ladies?”

“’S death, sir,” retorted Phil, hotly, “I take my manners from no man, nor—­”

“Hoighty, toighty!” chided Mrs. Meredith, entering.  “Is there not wind enough outside but ye must bellow like mad bulls within?”

“Ay,” assented the squire, “no quarrelling, gentlemen, for we’ve other things to set to.  Phil, there is no occasion to go off like touchwood; ’t is not as thee thinks.  What is true, however, is that we’ve a chance to catch this same rogue of a Brereton, if we but lay heads together.”

“Oh, dadda!” expostulated Janice.  “You’ll not—­for I promised him to tell nothing—­and never would have spoken had I not been dazed—­and thinking him dead.  I should die of—­”

“Fudge, child!” retorted Mr. Meredith.  “We’ll have no heroics over a runaway redemptioner who is fighting against our good king.  Furthermore, we must know all else he told ye.”

“I passed him my promise to keep secret—­”

“And of that I am to be judge,” admonished the parent.  “Dost think thyself of an age to act for thyself?  Come:  out with it; every word he spake.”

“I’ll not break my faith,” rejoined Janice, proudly, her eyes meeting her father’s bravely, though the little hands trembled as she spoke, half in fright and half in excitement.

“Nay, Miss Janice, ye scruple foolishly,” advised Lord Clowes.  “Remember the old adage, that ’A bad promise, like a good cake, is better broken than kept.’”

“‘Children, obey thy parents in the Lord, for this is right,’” quoted Mrs. Meredith, sternly.

“God never meant for me to lie—­and that ’s what you would have me do.”

The squire stepped into the hail, and returned with his riding-whip.  “Thou ’rt a great girl to be whipped, Janice,” he announced; “but if thou ’rt not old enough to obey, thou ’rt not too old for a trouncing.  Quickly, now, which wilt thou have?”

“You can kill me, but I’ll keep my word,” panted the maiden, while shaking with fear at her resistance, at the threatened punishment, and still more at the shame of its publicity.

Forgetful of everything in his anger, the squire strode toward his daughter to carry out his threat.  Ere he had crossed the room, however, to where she stood, his way was barred by Philemon.