To hell
with your politics! Hang me Swift Nicks!"
The terms of our treaty were that I was to remain peaceably and make a
night of it, giving my word to make no attempt to escape or harm anyone.
In the meantime, and at my proper charges, a post was to be sent to fetch
Nance Lousely and her father to give evidence on my behalf.
"DEAR GHOSTIE,"--I wrote to her,--"I am in great danger because a
red-nosed man vows I am Swift Nicks. I want you and your father to come
and prove he's an ass. If you don't I am to be hung on a gibbet at a place
called the Copt Oak, and I can't abide gibbets, for they are cold and
draughty. So come at once, my brave Nance!--Your friend,
"O. W."
A groom was fetched and I told him how to get to Job Lousely's. He was
well mounted from the Squire's stables and set off. However quickly he did
his business, it would be many hours before he could be back. So I settled
down to make a night of it.
There was nothing original in the Squire's way of making a night of it.
The parson who had been in at the death and who, during the settlement of
my affair, had been busy in the stables, now joined us at dinner.
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