A faint disgust took hold on me, to sit there smothering in the fumes of
pipe and liquor, while my gross kinsman guzzled and gabbled and
guzzled again.
"George," he gasped, mopping his crimsoned face, "I'll tell you now that
we Varicks and you Ormonds must stand out for neutrality in this war.
The Butlers mean mischief; they're mad to go to fighting, and that means
our common ruin. They'll be here to-night, damn them."
"Sir Lupus," I ventured, "we are all kinsmen, the Butlers, the Varicks,
and the Ormonds. We are to gather here for self-protection during this
rebellion. I am sure that in the presence of this common danger there
can arise no family dissension."
"Yes, there can!" he fairly yelled. "Here am I risking life and property
to persuade these Butlers that their interest lies in strictest
neutrality. If Schuyler at Albany knew they visited me, his dragoons
would gallop into Varick Manor and hang me to my barn door! Here am I, I
say, doing my best to keep 'em quiet, and there's Sir John Johnson and
all that bragging crew from Guy Park combating me--nay, would you
believe their impudence?--striving to win me to arm my tenantry for this
King of England, who has done nothing for me, save to make a knight of
me to curry favor with the Dutch patroons in New York province--or
state, as they call it now! And now I have you to count on for support,
and we'll whistle another jig for them to-night, I'll warrant!"
He seized his unfilled glass, looked into it, and pushed it from him
peevishly.
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