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away, an’ so did th’ other two. Bu’ their homes are wrecked.”
    One of the men behind him suppressed a chuckle and looked sidelong at another. This man laughed, too.
    “All right, you lot,” Kannice said. “You’ve had your say. Now get out.”
    “Bu’ we’re thirsty,” the first man said, sounding aggrieved.
    “Well, you’ll have to find your drink elsewhere.”
    They looked like they might argue, but at that moment Kelf stepped out from behind the bar, and planted himself in the middle of the great room, his massive arms crossed over his chest. The men grumbled among themselves, but shuffled out of the tavern.
    When they had gone, Kelf faced Ethan and Kannice. “Ya think it’s true?”
    “Hallowell’s place is on Hanover Street, isn’t it?” Ethan asked.
    “Yes,” Kannice said. “And I think William Story lives near the Court House.”
    “I heard them,” Ethan said. “There were mobs at both houses.”
    Kelf looked from one of them to the other. “But Hutchinson—he lives in th’ North End, don’ he? Did ya hear anything from there?”
    “It was hard to tell,” Ethan told him. “But if the rest of it’s true…”
    “Then this is, too,” Kannice finished for him. “And there’ll be hell to pay.”

 
    Chapter
    F OUR
    S oon after the men left, Kannice and Ethan went upstairs and immediately fell into each other’s arms, forgetting about Parliament and street mobs for a time. After they made love, though, Ethan made the mistake of asking if Kannice was ready to admit that the Stamp Act agitators were ruffians and fools.
    “The ones who attacked Hutchinson’s house?” she said. “Clearly. But that doesn’t mean all of them are.”
    He should have left it at that. But he didn’t, and they were up half the night arguing about the rioters and what they had done. Kannice, who believed that Parliament had overstepped its authority by enacting the Stamp Act in the first place, blamed the mob for going too far and ransacking the Hutchinson house. But she refused to say categorically that the riots led by Ebenezer Mackintosh and his men were wrong.
    Ethan could hardly contain himself. “So what you’re saying is that they were justified in attacking Andrew Oliver’s property, but not Thomas Hutchinson’s.”
    “Oliver has been made distributor of stamps!” she said, as if that was answer enough.
    “That is what you’re saying then!”
    Kannice raised her chin defiantly. “Yes!”
    “So, you think it acceptable to destroy the property of those who disagree with you! And you’d be fine if people who support the Stamp Act tore the Dowser to the ground!”
    “That’s not what I said!” she shot back. “And you know it! Oliver will be enforcing the Act. What was done to him was unfortunate, but justified. Tonight was different.”
    “There’s no justification for destroying a man’s home,” Ethan said in a low voice. “I don’t care who he is, or what he’s done. If that’s the freedom these men speak of, then I want no part of it.” He rolled over and pulled the blanket up to his chin.
    Ethan could tell that Kannice was watching him, thinking of more to say. But at last she blew out the lone candle burning in the room and lay down beside him. She touched his arm lightly and Ethan reached back to give her hand a quick squeeze. Soon after, he fell asleep.
    When Ethan woke, Kannice was already up. The room was cold, though the bed was still warm where she had lain. She had pulled on a long, plain dress and was plaiting her hair.
    Seeing that he was awake she said, “Good morning. Are you hungry?”
    Ethan nodded and tried to rub the sleep from his eyes.
    “Bacon? Bread? Eggs?”
    “Aye,” he said.
    Kannice laughed. “Fine. Don’t take too long getting yourself out of bed. Unlike some people, I have to work today.”
    “Yes, ma’am.”
    She came to the bed, kissed him, and slipped out of the room.
    Ethan lay there for a few minutes more before finally sitting up