"Since when did you take to calling your superior officers 'fellows,' Sir Frederick?" asked the other, laughing.

With a cry of recognition, Mobray sprang forward, his hand outstretched. "Charlie!" he exclaimed. "Heavens, man, we have made a joke in the army of the appearance of thy troops, but I never thought to see the exquisite of the Mall in clothes not fit for a tinker."

"My name, Fred, is John Brereton," corrected the officer, "which is a change for the better, I think you will own. As for my clothes, I'll better them, too, if Congress ever gives us enough pay to do more than keep life in us. Owing to depreciation, a leftenant-colonel is allowed to starve at present on the equivalent of twenty-five dollars, specie, a month."

"And yet you go on serving such masters," burst out Mobray. "Come over to us, Charl—John. Sir William would give you—"

"Enough," interrupted Brereton, angrily. "For how long, Sir Frederick, have you deemed me capable of treachery?"

"'T is no treachery to leave this unnatural rebellion and take sides with our good king."

"Such talk is idle, and you should know it, Mobray. A word with you ere Grayson and Boudinot—who have gone to look at that marplot house of Cliveden which frustrated all our hopes four months since—return and interrupt us. I last saw you at the Merediths'; can you give me word of them?"

"Only ill ones, alas!" answered the captain. "Their necessities are such that I fear me they are on the point of giving their daughter to that unutterable scoundrel, Clowes."

Jack started as if he had been stung. "You cannot mean that, man! We sent you word he had broke his parole."

"Ay," replied the baronet, flushing. "And let me tell you, John, that scarce an officer failed to go to Sir William and beg him to send the cur back to you."

"And you mean that Mr. Meredith can seriously intend to give Miss Janice to such a creature?"

"I fear 't is as good as decided. You know the man, and how he gets his way, curse him!"

"I'd do more than that, could I but get into Philadelphia," declared Jack, hotly. "By heavens, Fred—"

But here the entrance of other officers interrupted them, and Colonel Brereton was set to introducing Boudinot and Grayson to the British officer.

Scarcely had they been made known to each other when Mobray's fellow-commissioners, Colonel O'Hara and Colonel Stevens, with a detail of dragoons, came trotting up; and so soon as credentials were exchanged the six sat down about a table in a private room to discuss the matter which had brought them together. One of the first acts of Mobray was to ask for a look at the Continental lists of prisoners; and after a hurried glance through them, he turned and said to Brereton in a low voice: "We had word in Philadelphia that Leftenant Hennion died of a fever."

"'T is a false rumour," replied Brereton. "If I could I'd see that he failed of an exchange till the end of the war; and I would that one of our officers in your hands could be kept by you for an equal term."

"Who is that?" asked Mobray.

"That rascal, Charles Lee," muttered Brereton. "But, though he openly schemed against General Washington, and sought to supersede him, his Excellency is above resentment, and has instructed us to obtain his exchange among the first."

In the arrangement of details of the cartel Brereton showed himself curiously variable, at times sitting completely abstracted from what was being discussed, and then suddenly entering into the discussions, only to compel an entire going over of points already deemed settled, and raising difficulties which involved much waste of time.

"Confound it!" said O'Hara presently, after a glance at his watch. "At this rate we shall have to take a second day to it."

"Beyond question," assented Jack, with a suggestion of eagerness. "Gentlemen, I invite you to dinner, and there are good sleeping-rooms above."

"'T is out of the question," replied Stevens. "We officers give a masked ball in the city to-night, and I am one of the managers."

"Well, then," urged Brereton, "at least stay and dine with me at three, and you shall be free to leave by six. 'T is not much over an hour's ride to the city."

"That we'll do with pleasure," assented O'Hara.

"Go on with the discussion, then, while I speak to the landlord," remarked Jack, rising and passing to the kitchen. "We wish a dinner for six," he informed the publican, "by three o'clock" Then in a low voice he continued: "And hark you! One thing I wish done that is peculiar. Give us such whiskey as we call for of thy best, with lemons and sugar, but in place of hot water in the kettle, see to it that as often as it is replenished, it be filled with thy newest and palest rum. Understand?"

"Jerusalem!" ejaculated mine host. "You gentlemen of the army must have swingeing strong heads to dilute whiskey with raw rum."

"I trust not," replied the aide, drily.

When dinner was announced Brereton drew Grayson aside for a moment and whispered: "'T is a matter of life and death to me that these fellows be made too drunk to ride, Will, yet to keep sober myself. You've got the head and stomach of a ditcher; wilt make a sacrifice of yourself for my sake?"

"And but deem it sport," replied Grayson, with a laugh; and as he took his place at the table he remarked: "Gentlemen, we have tested British valour, we have tested British. courtesy, and found them not wanting, but we understand that, though you turn not your backs to either our soldiery or our ladies, there is one thing which can make you tremble, and that is our good corn whiskey."

"Odds life!" cried O'Hara, "who has so libelled us? Man, we'd start three glasses ahead of you, and then drink you under the table, on a challenge, but for this ball that we are due at."

"A pretty brag," scoffed Brereton, "since you have an excuse to avoid its test. But come, we have three good hours; but drink Grayson even in that time, and I will warrant you'll not be able to sit your horses. Come, fill up your glasses from decanter and kettle, and I will give you a toast to begin, to which you must drink bumpers. Here 's to the soldier who fights and loves, and may he never lack for either."

Four hours later, when Brereton rose from the table, Stevens and O'Hara were lying on the floor, Boudinot was fallen forward, his head resting among the dishes on the table, fast asleep, and Mobray and Grayson, clasped in each other's arms, were reeling forth different ditties under the impression that they were singing the same song. Tiptoeing from the room, the aide went to the kitchen door and said to the publican, "Order one of the dragoons to make ready Captain Mobray's horse, as he wishes to ride back to Philadelphia." In the passageway he took from the hook the hat, cloak, and sword of the young officer, and, removing his own sash and sabre, donned the three. Stealing back to the scene of the revel, he found Mobray and Grayson now lying on the floor as well, unconscious, though still affectionately holding each other. Kneeling gently, he searched the pockets of the unconscious man until the passport was lighted upon. Thrusting it into his belt, he stole from the room.

"What are the orders for us, sir?" asked the dragoon who held Mobray's horse, as the aide mounted.

With an almost perfect imitation of the baronet's voice, Brereton answered, "Colonel O'Hara will issue directions later," and then as he cantered down the road he added gleefully: "Considerably later. What luck that it should be Fred, whose voice I know so well that I can do it to the life whenever I choose!" Then he laughed with a note of deviltry. "I am popping my head into a noose," he said; "but whether 't is that of hangman or matrimony, time only will show."

XLV IN THE JAWS OF THE LION

The ball had been in full progress for an hour when a masker, who from his entrance had stood leaning against the wall, suddenly left his isolated position and walked up to one of the ladies.

"Conceal your face and figure as you will, Miss Meredith, you cannot conceal your grace. Wilt honour me with this quadrille?"

"La, Sir Frederick! That you should know me, and I never dream it was you!" exclaimed the girl, as she gave her hand and let him lead her to where the figures were being formed. "There have been many guesses among the caps as to the identity of him who has held himself so aloof, but not a one suggested you. The disguise makes you look a good three inches taller."

As they took position a feminine domino came boldly across the room to them. "Is this the way you keep your word, Sir William?" she demanded in a low voice, made harsh and grating by the fury it expressed.

"You mistake me, madam," answered the dancer, "though I would such a rapid promotion were a possibility."

The interloper made a startled step backward. "I have watched you for a quarter hour," she exclaimed, as she turned away, "and would have sworn to your figure."

"'T is wonderful," remarked Janice, "how deceiving a domino can be."

The dance ended, her partner said: "Miss Meredith, I have something to say to you of deepest consequence. Will you not come away from this crowd?"

"Ah, Sir Frederick," pleaded the girl, "do not recur to it again. Though you importune me for a day, I could but make the same reply."

"Sir Frederick passes his word that he will not tease you on that subject to-night; but speak I must concerning this match with Lord Clowes."

"'T is in vain, sir," replied Janice; "for every moment convinces me the more that I must wed him, and so you will but make my duty the harder."

"I beg you to give me a word apart, for I have a message to you from Colonel Brereton."

Janice's hand dropped from the officer's arm. "What is it?" she asked.

"'T is not to be given here," urged the man. "I pray you to let me order your equipage and take you away. Another dance will be beginning on the moment, and some one will claim you."

The girl raised her hand and once more placed it on her partner's arm; taking the motion as a consent to his wishes, the officer led her to the doorway.

"Call Miss Meredith's chair," he ordered of the guard grouped about the outer door, and in a moment was able to hand her into the vehicle.

"Where to?" he asked. "I mean—Home!" he cried, in a far louder voice, as if to drown the slip, at the same moment jumping in and taking his seat beside her.

As he did so, the girl shrank away from him toward her corner of the gig. "Who are you?" she cried in a frightened voice.

"Who should I be but John Brereton?"

"Are you mad," cried the girl, "to thus venture within the lines?"

"The news which brought me was enough to make me so," answered Jack. "You cannot know what you are doing that you so much as think of marrying that scum. For years he has been nothing but a spy and mackerel, willing to do the dirtiest work, and the scorn of every decent man in London, as here. Are you, are your father and mother, are your friends, all Bedlam-crazed that you even consider it?"

"'T is as horrible to me as it is to you," moaned Janice; "but it seems the only thing possible. Oh, Colonel Brereton, if you but knew our straits,—dependent for all we have, and with a future still more desperate,—you would not blame me for anything I am doing." The girl broke into sobs as she ended, and turning from him leaned her head against the leathern curtain, where she wept, regardless of the fact that the aide possessed himself of her hand, and tried to comfort her, until the chaise drew up at its destination. Lifting rather than helping her from the carriage, Jack supported the maiden up the steps and into the hallway; but no sooner were they there than she freed herself from his supporting arm and exclaimed, "You must not stay here. Any instant you might be discovered."

"Then take me to a room where we can be safe for a moment. I shall not leave you till I have said my say."

"Ah, please!" begged the girl. "Some one is like to enter even now."

Jack's only reply was to turn to the first door and throw it open. Finding that all was dark within, he caught Miss Meredith's fingers, and drew her in after him, saying, as he did so, "Here we are safe, and you can tell me truly of your difficulties."

With her hand held in both of the aide's, Janice began a disconnected outpouring of the tale of her difficulties intermixed by an occasional sob, caused quite as much by the officer's exclamations of sympathy as by the misery of her position. Before a half of it had been spoken one of the hands grasping hers loosened itself, and she was gently drawn by an encircling arm till her head could find support on his shoulder; not resenting and indeed, scarcely conscious of the clasp, she rested it there with a strange sense of comfort and security.

"Alas!" grieved Brereton, when all had been told, "I am as deep, if not deeper, in poverty than you, and so I can give you no aid in money. Bad as things are, however, there is better possible than selling yourself to that worm, if you will but take it."

"What?"

"The French have come to our aid at last, and are sending us a fleet. If Howe will but be as slow as usual, and the States but hasten their levies, we shall catch him between the fleet and army and Burgoyne him. Even if he act quickly, he can save himself only by abandoning Philadelphia and consolidating his forces at New York. They may then fight on, for both the strength and the weakness of the British is a natural stupidity which prevents them from knowing when they are beaten, but all doubt as to the outcome will be over. Once more it will be possible for you to dwell at Greenwood, if you will but—"

"But dadda says they will take it away and exile us," broke in Janice.

"I have no doubt the rag-tag politicians, if not too busy scheming how to cripple General Washington, will set to on some such piece of folly, for by their persecutions and acts of outlawry and escheatage they have driven into Toryism enough to almost offset the Whigs the British plundering has made. But from this you can be saved if you will but let me." As the officer ended, the clasp of his arm tightened, though it lost no element of the caress.

"How?"

"I stand well in the cause; and though I could not, I fear, save your property to you, they would never take it once it were in Whig hands, and so by a marriage to me you can secure it. Ah, Miss Meredith, you have said you do not love me, and I stand here to-night a beggar, save for the sword I wear; but I love you as never man loved woman before, and my life shall be given to tenderness and care for you. Surely your own home with me is better than exile with that cur! And I'll make you love me! I'll woo you till I win you, my sweet, if it take a life to do it." Raising the hand he held, the aide kissed it fondly. "I know I've given you reason to think me disrespectful and rough; I know I have the devil's own temper; but if I've caused you pain at moments, I've suffered tenfold in the recollection. Can you not forgive me?" Once again he eagerly caressed her hand; and finding that she offered no resistance to the endearments, Jack, with an inarticulate cry of delight, stooped and pressed his lips to her cheek.

On the instant Janice felt a hand laid on her shoulders, then on her head, as if some one were feeling of her.

"Who is this?" demanded Jack, lifting his head with a start.

The question was scarce uttered when the sound of a blow came to the girl's ears, and the arm which had been supporting her relaxed its hold, as the lover sank rather than fell to the floor. With loud screams the girl staggered backward, groping her way blindly in the dark. There came the sound of feet hurrying down the hallway, and the door was thrown open by one of the men servants, revealing, by the shaft of light which came through it, the figure of Jack stretched on the floor, with the commissary kneeling upon him, engaged in binding his wrists with a handkerchief.

"Out to the stables, and get me a guard!" ordered Lord Clowes. "I have a spy captured here. No; first light those candles from the lamp in the hall. I advise ye, Miss Meredith," he said scoffingly, "that next time ye arrange an assignation with a lover that ye take the precaution to assure yourself that the room is unoccupied."

"Oh, Lord Clowes," implored the girl, "won't you let him go for my sake?"

"That plea is the least likely of any to gain your wish," responded the baron, derisively.

"I will promise that I will never wed him, will never see him again," offered Janice.

"Of that I can give ye assurance," retorted the commissary, rising and picking up from where he had dropped it the horse pistol with which he had stunned the unconscious man. "A drum-head court-martial will sit not later than to-morrow morning, Miss Meredith, and there will be one less rebel in the world ere nightfall. Your promise is a fairly safe one to make. Here," he continued, as the soldiers came running into the room, "fetch a pail of water and douse it over this fellow, for I want to carry him before Sir William. Ye were wise not to remove your wraps, Miss Meredith, for I shall have to ask your company as well."

When the aide was sufficiently conscious to be able to stand, he was put between two of the soldiers, and ten minutes later the whole party reached the house of the commander-in-chief. Given entrance, without waiting to have their arrival announced, the commissary led the way through the parlour into the back room, where, about a supper table, the British commander, Mrs. Loring, and two officers were sitting.

"Ye must pardon this intrusion, Sir William," explained Lord Clowes, as Howe, in surprise, faced about, "but we have just caught a spy red-handed, and an important one at that, being none less than Colonel Brereton, an aide of Mr. Washington. Bring him forward, sergeant."

As Jack was led into the strong light, Mrs. Loring started to her feet with a scream, echoed by an exclamation of "By God!" from one of the officers, while the three or four glasses at Howe's place were noisily swept into a jumble by the impulsive swing of the general's arm as he threw himself backward and rested against the table.

"Charlie, Charlie!" cried Mrs. Loring. "You here?"

Standing rigidly erect, the aide said coldly, "My name is John Brereton; nor have I the honour of your acquaintance."

"What's to do here?" ejaculated Lord Clowes. "I know the man to be what he says, and that he has come in disguise within our lines to spy."

Without looking at the commissary, Jack answered: "I wore no disguise when I passed through your lines, nor have I for a moment laid aside my uniform."

"Call ye those rags a uniform?" jeered the commissary.

Howe gave a hearty laugh. "Why, yes, baron," he answered. "Know you not the rebel colours by this time?"

"And how about the domino he wears over them, and the mask I hold in my hand?" contended Lord Clowes.

"I procured them this evening at the Franklin house in Second Street, as you will learn by sending some one to inquire, merely to attend the ball."

A second exclamation broke from Mrs. Loring: "Then 't was you I mistook for—Sir William, I thought 't was you from his figure."

Again the general laughed. "Ho, Loring," said he to one of the officers. "What say you to that?"

"Take and hang me, or send me to the pest hole you kill your prisoners in, but let me get away from here," raged Jack, white with passion, as he gave a futile wrench in an attempt to free his hands.

"Art so anxious to be hanged, boy?"

"'T is a fit end to a life begun as mine was!" answered the aide.

"Oh, Sir William," spoke up Janice," he did not come to spy, but only to see me. You will not hang him for that, surely?"

"Yoicks! Must you snare, even into the hangman's noose, every one that looks but at you, Miss Janice? If the day ever comes when the innocent no longer swing for the guilty, 't is you will be hung."

"We lose time over this badinage, Sir William," complained the commissary, angrily. "The fellow is a spy without question."

"He is not," cried Mrs. Loring; "and he shall not even be a prisoner. You will not hold him, Sir William, when he came but to see the maid he loves?"

"Come, sir," said the general. "Wilt ask thy life of me?"

"No. And be damned to you!"

"You see, Jane."

"I care not what he says; you shall let him go free."

"Are ye all mad?" fumed the commissary.

"He ever had the art of getting the women on his side, Clowes," laughed Sir William, good-naturedly. "How the dear creatures love a man of fire! Look you, boy, with such a friend as Mrs. Loring—to say nothing of others—no limit can be set to your advancement, if you will but put foolish pride in your pocket, and throw in your lot with us."

"I'd sooner starve with Washington than feast with you."

"That 's easily done!" remarked Loring, jeeringly.

"Not so easily as in your prisons," retorted Jack.

"Don't be foolish and stick to your tantrums, lad," persuaded Howe.

"Is a man foolish who elects to stick to the winning side? For you are beaten, Sir William, and none know it better than you."

"Damn thy tongue!" roared Howe, springing up.

"Don't blame him for it, William," cried Mrs. Loring. "How can he be other than a lad of spirit?"

Howe fell back into his seat. "There 't is again. Ah, gentlemen, the sex beat us in the end! Well, Jane, since thou 't commander-in-chief, please issue thy orders."

"Set him free at once."

"We can scarce do that, though we'll not hang him as a spy, lest all the caps go into mourning. Commissary Loring, he is yours; we will hold him as a prisoner of war."

"Do that and you must answer for it," said Jack. "You can hang me as a spy, if you choose, but yesterday I rode into Germantown under a flag of truce, and on your own pass, as one of the commissioners of exchange. What word will you send to General Washington if you attempt to hold me prisoner?"

"Well done!" exclaimed Howe. "One would almost think it had been prearranged. Release his arms, sergeant. Loring, let the boy have a horse and a pass to Germantown. I rely on your honour, sir, that you take no advantage of what you have seen or heard within our lines."

Jack bowed assent without a word.

"And now, sir, that you are free," went on Sir William, "have you no thanks for us?"

"Not one."

"Ah, Charlie," begged Mrs. Loring, "just a single word of forgiveness."

Without a sign to show he heard her, Jack went to Janice and took her hand. "Don't forget my pledge. Save you I can, if you will but let me." He stooped his head slightly and hesitated for a moment, his eyes fixed on her lips, then he kissed her hand.

And as he did so, Mrs. Loring burst into tears. "You are killing me by your cruelty," she cried.

"Ah, Colonel Brereton, say something kind to her!" begged the girl, impulsively.

Wheeling about, Jack strode forward, till he stood beside the woman. "This scoundrel," he began, indicating Clowes with a contemptuous gesture, "is seeking to force Miss Meredith into a marriage: save her from that, and the wrong you did me is atoned."

"I will; I will!" replied Mrs. Loring, lifting her head eagerly. "I'll—Ah, Charlie, one kiss—just one to show that I am forgiven—No, not for that," she hurriedly added, as the aide drew back—"to show—for what I will do for her. Everything I can I will—Just one."

For an instant Brereton hesitated, then bent his head; and the woman, with a cry of joy, threw her arms about his neck, and kissed him not once, but five or six times, and would have continued but for his removing her hands and stepping backward.

"Come, sir,", said Loring, irritably, "if the whole army is not to have wind of this, follow me. Daybreak is not far away, and you should be in the saddle."

The aide once more went to Janice, and would have again taken her hand; but the girl shrank away, and turned her back upon him.

"One farewell," pleaded Jack.

"You have had it," replied Janice, without turning.

"Ay. Be off with you," seconded Howe, and without a word Brereton followed Loring from the room.

As the front door banged, and ere any one had spoken, the thunder of a cannon sounded loud and clear, and at short intervals other booms succeeded, as if the first was echoing repeatedly. But the trained ear of the general was not deceived.

"'T is the water battery saluting," he said, rising. "So Sir Henry Clinton has evidently arrived. Come, gentlemen, 't is only courteous that we meet him at the landing."

XLVI THE FAREWELL TO HOWE

In the movement that ensued, Janice slipped into the hallway, and in a moment she was scurrying along the street, so busy with her thoughts that she forgot the satin slippers which had hitherto been so carefully saved from the pavements. She had not gone a square when the sound of footsteps behind her made the girl quicken her pace; but instantly the pursuer accelerated his, and, really alarmed, Janice broke into a run which ended only as she darted up the steps of her home, where she seized the knocker and banged wildly. Before any one had been roused within, the man stood beside her, and with his first word the fugitive recognised Lord Clowes.

"I meant not to frighten ye," he said; "but ye should not have come away alone, for there are pretty desperate knaves stealing about, and had ye encountered the patrol, ye would have been taken to the provost-marshal for carrying no lantern."

Relieved to know who it was, but too breathless to make reply, Janice leaned against the lintel until a sleepy soldier gave them entrance. There was a further delay while Lord Clowes ignited a dip from the lamp and lighted her to the stairway. Here he handed it to her, but retaining his own hold, so as to prevent her departing, he said—

"I lost my temper at hearing that young scamp make such ardent love, and so I spoke harshly to ye. Canst not make allowance for a lover's jealousy?"

"Please let me have the light."



"Whether ye pardon me or no, of one thing I am sure," went on Clowes, still holding the candle, "ye are not so love-sick of this rogue as to overlook his seeking the aid of his discarded mistress in his suit of ye. I noted your look as she kissed him."

"'T is not a subject I choose to discuss with you, nor is it one for any gentlewoman," said Janice, dropping her hold on the candle and starting upstairs. At the top she paused long enough to say, "Nor do I trust your version," and then hurried to her room and bolted the door.

Here, dark as it was, she went straight to the bureau, and pulling open the bottom drawer fumbled about in it. Her hands presently encountered the unfinished purse, and for a moment they closed on it, while something resembling a sob escaped her. But with one hand she continued searching; and so soon as her groping put her fingers on the miniature of Mrs. Loring she rose, and feeling the way to a window, she opened it and threw out the slip of ivory. The girl made a motion as if to send the purse after it, but checked the impulse, and forgetting to close the window, and without a thought of her once treasured gown, she threw herself on the bed, and began to sob miserably. Before many minutes, worn out with excitement, fatigue, and the lateness, she fell asleep, but it was only to dream uneasily over the night's doings, in which all was a confused jumble, save for the eager tones of her lover's voice as he pleaded his suit, the sight of him as he lay on the floor after the candles had been lighted, and, finally, the look in his eyes as he made his farewell. Yet no sooner did these recur than they were succeeded by that of Mrs. Loring's eager and passionate kissing of Brereton, and each time this served to bring Janice back into a half-awake condition.

After breakfast the next morning, as she was pretendedly reading Racine's "Iphigenie," lest her mother should find her doing nothing and order her to some task, a letter was handed her by one of the servants, with word that it had been brought by a soldier; and breaking the seal, Janice read:

My deer child pleas do forgiv al i spoke to yu a bout the furst time i see yu for i did not understan it at al i was dredful up set bi last nite and feel mitey pukish this mawning, but i hope yu will cum to see me soon for i want much to tawk with yu a bout how i can help yu and to kiss and hugg yu for yu ar so prity that i shud lov just to tuck yu lik sum one else did yu see how his eys lovd yu when he was going a way he yused to look that way at me and i cried mitey hard al nite at his krulty pleas cum soon to unhapy Jane Loring. ps. i shal cum to yu if yu dont cum quick

"There is no answer," the maiden told the servant; then, as he went to the door she added, "And should a Mrs. Loring wish to see me, you will refuse me to her."

Left alone, Janice went to the fireplace, in which the advance of spring no longer made a fire necessary, and, taking from its niche the tinder box, she struck flint on steel, and in a moment had a blaze started. Not waiting to let it gain headway, she laid the letter upon the flame, and held it there with the tongs till it ignited. "I knew without your telling me," she said, "that he no longer loved you, and great wonder it is, considering your age, that he ever could."

"Hast turned fire-worshipper?" demanded Andre's voice, merrily, as she still knelt, "for if so, 't will be glad news for the sparks."

The girl sprang to her feet. "I—I was just burning a —a—some rubbish," she answered.

"Here I am, not in the lion's den, but in the jackal's, and my stay must be brief. Canst detect that I am big with news?"

"Of what?"'

"This morning Sir Henry Clinton arrived, and for the first time the army learns that Sir William has resigned his command, and is leaving us. The field officers wish to mark his departure by a farewell fete in his honour, and as it would be a mockery without the ladies, we are appealing to them to aid us. We plan to have a tourney of knights, each of whom is to have a damsel who shall reward him with a favour at the end of the contest. I have bespoken fair Peggy for mine, and I am sure Mobray, who is not yet returned, will ask you. Wilt help us?"

"Gladly," assented Janice, eagerly, "if dadda will let me."

"I met him in High Street on my way here, made my plea, and, though at first he pulled a negative look, when I reminded him he owed Sir William for a good place, he relented and said you could."

"And what am I to do?"

"You are to be gowned in a Turkish costume, in the—"

"Nay, Captain Andre" replied Janice, shaking her head, "we are too poor to spend any money in such manner."

"Think you the knights are so lacking in chivalry that we could permit our guests to pay? The subscription is large enough to cover all expenses, the stuffs are already purchased, and all you will have to do is to make them up in the manner of this sketch."

"Then I accept with pleasure and thanks."

"'T is we owe the thanks. And now farewell, for I have much to do."

"Captain Andre," said the girl, as he opened the door, "I have a question—Wilt answer me something?"

"Need you ask?"

"I suppose 't is a peculiar one, and so—Do you—is it generally thought by—Do the gentlemen of the army deem Mrs. Loring beautiful?"

"Too handsome for the good of our—of the army."

"Even though she paints and powders?"

"But in London and Paris 't is the mode."

"I think 't is a horrid custom."

"And so would every woman had she but thy cheeks. Ah, Miss Meredith, 't is easy for the maid whose tints are a daily toast at the messes to blame those to whom nature has not given a transparent skin and mantling blood."

When Mobray returned from Germantown, he at once sought out Janice and confirmed Andre's action. Though he found her working on the costume, it was with so melancholy a countenance that he demanded the cause.

"T is what you know already," moaned the girl, miserably. "Lord Clowes is pressing me for an answer, and now dadda is urgent that I give him ay."

"Why?"

"He went to see Sir Henry, and had so cold a reception that he thinks 't is certain he is to lose his place, let alone the report that General Clinton was heard to say Sir William's friends were to be got rid of. What can we do?"

"But Char—Brereton assured me he had spoked the fellow's wheel by securing the aid of—"

"'T is naught to me what he has done," interrupted Janice, proudly; "nor did I give him the right to intervene."

"You must not give yourself to Clowes. 'T is—ah— rather than see that I'll speak out."

"About what?"

"Leftenant Hennion is not dead! 'T was but another of Clowes' lies, and your father shall know it, let him do his worst." Without giving his courage time to cool, the young fellow dashed across the hallway to the office where the commissary and squire were sitting, and announced: "News, Mr. Meredith. Leftenant Hennion is alive, for his name was on the rebel lists of prisoners to be exchanged."

"Oddsbodikins!" ejaculated the squire. "Here 's an upset, Clowes, to all our talk."

"Ye'll not be fool enough to let it make any difference," growled the baron, his eyes resting on Mobray with a look that boded no good. "Ye'll only increase your difficulties by holding to that old folly."

"Nay, Clowes, Lambert Meredith ne'er broke his word to any man, and, God helping, he never will."

With a real struggle, the commissary held his anger in check. "I'll talk of this later," he said, after a pause, "when I can speak less warmly than now I feel. As for ye, sir," he said, facing Mobray, "I will endeavour—the favour ye have done shall not be forgotten."

"Take what revenge you please, my Lord," replied Mobray, his voice shaking a little none the less, "I have done what as a gentleman I was compelled to do, and am ready for the consequences, be they what they may."

"A fit return for my lenience," remarked Clowes to the squire after Sir Frederick had made his exit. "He has long owed me money, for which I have never pressed him, yet now he would have it that if I but ask payment, 't is revenge."

One result of Mobray's outbreak was to give Janice another knight for the pageant.

"'T is a crying shame," Andre told her; "but poor Fred has gone to the wall at last, and is to be sold up. Therefore he chooses to withdraw from the tourney, and begs me to make his apologies to you, for he is too dumpish to wish to see any one. 'T will make no difference to you, save that you will have Brigade Major Tarleton in place of the baronet."

"Can nothing be done for him?" asked Janice.

"Be assured, if anything could be, his fellow-officers would not have allowed the army to lose him, for he is loved by every man in the service; but he is in for over eight thousand pounds."

"'T is very sad," sighed Janice. "I thought him a man of property," she added aloud, while to herself she said, "Then it could not have been he who bought my miniature."

"Nay, he was sometimes in funds by his winnings, but he long since scattered his patrimony."

Janice's letter to Tabitha had long before, by its length, become in truth a journal, and to its pages were confided an account of the farewell fete to the British general:—

"'The Mischianza,' as 't is styled; Tibbie, began at four o clock in the afternoon with a grand regatta, all the galleys and flatboats being covered with awnings and dressed out with colours and streamers, making a most elegant spectacle. The embarkation took place at the upper end of the city, mommy and I entering the 'Hussar' which bore Sir William Howe. Preceded by the music boats, the full length of the town we were rowed, whilst every ship was decked with flags and ensigns, and the shores were crowded with spectators, who joined in 'God save the King' when the bands played it; and the 'Roebuck' frigate fired a royal salute. About six we drew up opposite the Wharton house, and landing, made our way between files of troops and sailors to a triumphal arch that ushered to an amphitheatre which had been erected for the guests, of whom, Tibbie, but four hundred were invited. Behind these seats spectators not to be numbered darked the whole plain around; held in check by a strong guard which controlled their curiosity. The fourteen knights' ladies (selected, Tibbie, so 't was given out, as the fore-most in youth, beauty, and fashion, and into a fine frenzy it threw those maids who were not asked) were seated in the front, and though 't is not for me to say it, we made a most pleasing display. Our costume was fancy, and consisted of gauze turbans, spangled and edged with gold and silver, on the right side of which a veil of the same hung as low as the waist, and the left side of the turban was enriched with pearls and tassels of gold or silver, crested with a feather. The jacket was of the polonaise kind; of white silk with long sleeves, and sashes worn around the waist tied with a large bow on the left side, hung very low and trimmed, spangled; and fringed according to the colours of the knight. But, wilt believe it, Tibbie, instead of skirts, 't was loose trousers, gathered at the ankle, we wore, and a fine to-do mommy made at first over the idea, till dadda said I might do as the other girls did; though indeed, Tibbie, 't is to be confessed I felt monstrous strange, and scarce enjoyed a dance through thought of them. And here let me relate that this was the ostensible reason for Mr. Shippen refusing to allow Margaret and Sarah to take part after they had their gowns made (and weren't they dancing mad at being forbid!), but 't is more shrewdly suspected that 't was because of a rumour (which no thinking person credits) that Philadelphia is to be evacuated, and so, being a man of no opinions, he chose not to risk offending the Whigs.

"Once seated; the combined bands of the army sounded a very loud and animated march, which was the signal for the beginning of the ceremony of the carousel. The seven knights of The Blended Rose, most marvellously dressed in a costume of the Henry IV. period of France (which, being so beyond description, I have endeavoured a sketch), on white horses, preceded by a herald and three trumpeters, entered the quadrangle, and by proclamation asserted that the ladies of The Blended Rose excelled in wit, beauty, and accomplishment those of the whole world, and challenged any knight to dispute it. Thereupon appeared the seven knights of The Burning Mountain, and by their herald announced that they would disprove by arms the vainglorious assertions of the knights of The Blended Rose and show that the ladies of The Burning Mountain as far excelled all others in charms as the knights themselves surpassed all others in prowess. Upon this a glove of defiance was thrown, the esquires presented their knights with their lances, the signal for the charge was sounded, and the conflict ensued, until on a second signal they fell back, leaving but their chiefs in single combat. These fighting furiously, were Presently parted by the judges of the field, with the announcement that they were of equal valour, and their ladies of equal beauty. Forming in single file, they advanced and saluted, and a finish was put to this part of the entertainment.

"We now retired to the house for tea, where the knights, having dismounted, followed us, and paid homage to their fair ones, from each of whom they received a favour. The ball then succeeded, which lasted till nine, when the company distributed themselves at the windows and doors to view fireworks of marvellous beauty, ending with a grand illumination of the arch. More dancing then occupied us, till we were summoned to supper, which was served in a saloon one hundred and eighty feet long, gaily painted and decorated; and made brilliant by a great number of lustres hung from the roof, while looking-glasses, chandeliers, and girandoles decked the walls, the whole enlivened by garlands of flowers and festoons of silk and ribbons. Here we were waited upon by twenty-four negroes in blue and white turbans and party-coloured clothes and sashes, whilst the most pathetic music was performed by a concealed band. Toasts to the king and queen, the royal family, the army and navy, with their respective commanders, the knights and their ladies, and the ladies in general, were drunk in succession, each followed by a flourish of music, when once again the dancing was resumed, and lasted till the orb of day intruded his presence upon us.

"Sir William left us at noon to-day, regretted by the whole army, and, as I write this, I can hear a salute of guns in honour of Sir Henry Clinton's assuming the command. Pray Heaven he does not remove dadda.

"At last I know, Tibbie, what court life must be like."

Three days after the departure of Howe, the squire came into dinner, a paper in hand, and with a beaming face. "Fine news!" he observed. "I am not to be displaced."

"Good!" cried the commissary, while Janice clapped her hands. "I spoke to Sir Henry strongly in your favour, and am joyed to hear that it has borne fruit."

"How dost thou know, Lambert?" asked Mrs. Meredith.

"I have here an order to load the 'Rose' tender with such rebel property as the commissaries shall designate, and superintend its removal to New York. They 'd ne'er employ me on so long a job, were I marked to lose my employment, eh, Clowes?"

"Well reasoned. For 't is not merely a task of time, but one of confidence. But look ye, man, if ye 're indeed to make a voyage to York and back, which will likely take a month, 't is best that we settle this question of marriage ere ye go. I've given Miss Janice time, I think ye'll grant, and 't will be an advantage in your absence that she and Mrs. Meredith have one bound to protect them."

"I'd say ay in a moment, Clowes, but for my word to Hennion."

"'T is a promise thou shouldst ne'er have made, and which it is now thy every interest to be quit of, let alone that 't is so distasteful to thy daughter."

"A promise is a promise," answered the father, with an obstinate motion of head.

"And a fool 's a fool," retorted Clowes, losing his temper. "In counsel and aid I've done my best for ye; now go your gait, and see what comes of it."

A week later, Mr. Meredith bade farewell to wife and daughter.

"I wish you were n't going, dadda," Janice moaned. "'T is so akin to last summer that it frights me."

"Nay, lass, be grateful that I have the job to do, and that with good winds I shall return within a fortnight. Clowes has passed his word that ye shall want for nothing. I'll be back ere ye know I've gone."

There was a good cause, however, for the girl's fear of the future, for in less than a week from her father's sailing, on every street corner, in every tavern, and in every drawing-room of the town the news that Philadelphia was to be evacuated was being eagerly and anxiously discussed.

XLVII THE EVACUATION

Confirmation of the rumour, so far as Mrs. Meredith and Janice were concerned, was first received through the commissary.

"Ay," he told them, when questioned; "'t was decided at a council of war the very day Howe left us, and that was why we at once began transferring our stores and the seized property to New York, one cargo of which your husband was put in charge. 'T will tax our shipping to the utmost to save it all."

"But why didst thou not warn us, so that we might have embarked with him?" asked Mrs. Meredith.

"'T was a military secret to be told to no one."

"Can dadda return ere the evacuation begins?"

"'T is scarce possible, even if his orders permit it."

"Then what are we to do?"

"Thou hadst best apply at once to the deputy quartermaster-general for transports."

Mrs. Meredith acted on this advice the following day, but without success.

"Think you the king's ships and transports have naught to do but act as packet-boats for you Americans?" the deputy asked. "Hundreds of applications have been filed already, and not another one will we receive. If you 'd for New York, hire a passage in a private ship."

This was easier to recommend than to do, for such was the frantic demand for accommodation that the prices had been raised to exorbitant figures, quite beyond their means. So appeal was made once more to Clowes.

"'T is something of a quandary," he remarked; "but there is a simple way out."

"What?"

"I'd have saved ye all worry over the matter but that I wished ye to learn the difficulties. I have never made pretence to doing favours out of mere kindness of heart, and ye know quite as well as I why I have given ye lodging and other aids. But for that very reason I am getting wearied of doing all and receiving nothing, and have come to the end. Give me Miss Janice, and my wife and mother shall have passage in the ship I sail in."

"You take a poor way, Lord Clowes, to gain your wish," said Janice. "Generosity—"

"Has had a six months' trial, and brought me no nearer to a consummation," interrupted the baron. "Small wonder I sicken of it and lose patience."

"'T is not to be expected that I would let Janice wed thee when her father has given thee nay."

"Because he has passed his word to another, and so holds himself bound. He said he'd consent but for that, and by acting in his absence ye can save him a broken oath, yet do the sensible thing. He'll be glad enough once done; that I'll tie to."

"It scarce betters it in a moral sense," replied Mrs. Meredith. "However, we will not answer till we have had a chance to discuss it by ourselves."

"Janice," said her mother, once they were alone, "thy dread of that man is a just one, and I—"

"I know—I know," broke in the daughter, miserably; "but I—if I can make us all easy as to money and future—"

"Those are but worldly benefits, child."

"But, mommy," said the girl, chokingly, as she knelt at her mother's feet and threw her arms about Mrs. Meredith's waist, "since live we must, what can we do but—but—Oh, would that I had never been born!" and then the girl buried her head in her mother's lap.

"'T is most unseemly, child, to speak so. God has put us here to punish and chasten us for Adam's sin; and 't is not for us, who sinned in him, to question His infinite wisdom."

"Then I wish He 'd tell me what it is my duty to do!" lamented Janice.

"Thinkest thou he has nothing to do but take thought of thy affairs?"

"Wouldst have me marry him, mommy?" asked the girl, chokingly.

"Let us talk no further now, child, but take a night's thought over it."

They were engaged in discussing the problem the following afternoon, when Lieutenant Hennion burst in upon them.

"Why, Phil!" cried Mrs. Meredith; and Janice, springing from her chair, met him half-way with outstretched hand, while exclaiming, "Oh, Mr. Hennion, 't is indeed good to see an old friend's face."

"'T is glad tidings ter me ter hearn you say that," declared Philemon, eagerly. "Yestere'en General Lee and the other rebel prisoners came out from Philadelphia, and we, having been brought from Morristown some days ago, were at once set at liberty; but 't was too late ter come in, so we waited for daylight. I only reported at quarters, and then, learning where you lodged, I come—I came straight ter—to find how you fared."

Alternating explanation and commentary, the women told of their difficulties.

"I can't aid you to get aboard one of the ships, for I've had ter draw my full pay all the time I was prisoner, the rebels nigh starving us, let alone freezing, so money 's as scarce with me as with you. But I'll go ter—to my colonel, and see if I can't get permission that you may go with our baggage train."

"'T will be a benefit indeed, if you can do that," exclaimed Mrs. Meredith.

"Then I'll not tarry now, but be off about it at once, for there was a rumour at brigade headquarters that three regiments had been ordered across the river this afternoon, and that it meant a quick movement." He picked up his hat as if to go, then paused, and haltingly continued, "I hope, Ja—Ja— Janice, that you've come ter—to like—not to be so set against what I wants so much. It 's nigh a year since I seen— saw you last, but it 's only made me love you the better."

The girl, with a look of real contrition, answered, "Oh, Mr. Hennion, do not force—'T would be wrong to us both if I deceived you."

"You can't love me?"

"I—oh, I believe I am a giddy, perverse female, for I seem able to care for no man."

"The world I'd give ter win you, Janice; but I'll not tease you now, the more that I can be doing you a service, and that 's joy enough."

Philemon went toward the door; but ere he had reached it Janice had overtaken him and seized his hand in both of hers. "You deserve to love a better maid," she said huskily, "and I wish you might; but perhaps 't will be some comfort to you to know that dadda holds to his promise, and—and that I am less wilful and more obedient, I hope, than once I was."

As Philemon opened his mouth to make reply, he was cut short by the entrance of the commissary, who halted and frowned as he took in the hand-clasp of the two.

"Humph!" he muttered, and then louder remarked, "Yet another! Ye'll be pleased to know, sir, that Miss Meredith's favours mean little. But a month since I caught that fellow Brereton regaling himself with her lips."

"That's a lie, I know," retorted Philemon, angrily; but as he glanced at the girl and saw her crimson, he exclaimed, "You just said you cared for no man!"

"It—it was at a moment when I scarce knew what I did" faltered Janice, "and—and—now I would not be kissed by him for anything in the world. I—I am—I was honest in what I said to you, Philemon."

"I'll believe anything you say, Janice," impulsively replied the lieutenant, as with unprecedented boldness he raised her hand to his lips. Then facing Clowes he said: "And I advise you ter have a care how you speak of Miss Meredith. I'll not brook hearing her aspersed." With this threat he left the room.

"I regret to have been an intruder on so tender a scene," sneered the commissary; "but I came with information that was too important to delay. Orders have been issued that all ships make ready to drop down the river with the tide at daybreak to-morrow, and 't is said that the army will begin its march across the Jerseys but a twenty-four hours later. So there is no time to lose if ye wish to sail with me. The marriage must take place by candle-light this evening, and we must embark immediately after."

"Philemon has promised us his aid, Lord Clowes," replied Mrs. Meredith, "and so we need not trouble thee."

"Hennion! But he must go with his regiment."

"He offers us a place in the baggage train."

"Evidently he has not seen the general orders. Clinton is too good an officer to so encumber himself; and the orders are strict that only the women of the regiments be permitted to march with the army. I take it ye scarce wish to class yourselves with them, however much it might delight the soldiery."

"They could scarce treat us worse than thee, Lord Clowes," said Mrs. Meredith, indignantly. "Nor do I believe that even the rank and file would take such advantage of two helpless women as thou art seeking to do."

"Tush! I may state it o'er plainly; but my intention is merely to make clear for your own good that ye have no other option but that I offer ye."

"Any insults would be easier to bear than yours," declared Janice, indignantly; "and theirs would be for once, while yours are unending."

"Such folly is enough to make one forswear the whole sex," the commissary angrily replied. "Nor am I the man to put up with such womanish humoursomeness. "I've stood your caprice till my patience is exhausted; now I'll teach ye what—"

"Heyday!" exclaimed Andre, as a servant threw open the door and ushered him in. "What have we here? I trust I am not mal apropos?"

"Far from it," spoke up Janice. "And thou 'rt welcome."

"I come laden with grief and with messages," said Andre, completely ignoring Clowes' presence. "Mr. Hennion, whom I met at headquarters, asked me to tell you his request was refused, that his regiment was even then embarking to cross the Delaware, and that therefore he could not return, whatever his wish. The Twenty-sixth is under orders to follow at daybreak to-morrow, and so we plan an impromptu farewell supper this evening at my quarters. Will you forgive such brief notice and help to cheer our sorrow with your presence?"

"With more than pleasure," assented Mrs. Meredith; "and if 't will not trouble thee, we will avail ourselves of thy escort even now."

"Would that such trouble were commoner!" responded Andre, holding open the door.

"Then we'll get our coverings without delay."

Lord Clowes, with a deepened scowl on his face, intercepted them at the door. "One word in private with these ladies," he said to the captain. Then, as Andre with a bow passed out first, he continued, to the women: "I have warned ye that we must be aboard ship ere ten. Refuse me my will, and ye'll not be able to rejoin Mr. Meredith. Take my offer, or remain in the city."

"We shall remain," responded Mrs. Meredith.

"With your husband a warden of the seized property of the rebels, and known to have carried away a ship-load of it? Let me warn ye that the rebels whom we drove out of Philadelphia will be in no sweet mood when they return and find what we have destroyed or carried off. Hast heard how the Bostonians treated Captain Fenton's wife and fifteen-year-old daughter? Gentlewomen though they were, the mob pulled them out of their house, stripped them naked in the public streets, smeared them with tar and feathers, and then walked them as a spectacle through the town. And Fenton had done far less to make himself hated than Mr. Meredith. Consider their fate, and decide if marriage with me is the greater evil."

"Every word thou hast spoken, Lord Clowes," replied Mrs. Meredith, "has tended to make us think so."

"Then may you reap the full measure of your folly," raged the commissary.

"Come, Janice," said her mother; and the two, without a parting word, left him. Once upstairs, Janice flung her arms about Mrs. Meredith's neck.

"Oh, mother," she cried, "please, please forgive me! I have ever thought you hard and stern to me, but now I know you are not."

Strive as those at the supper might, they could not make it a merry meal. The officers, with a sense of defeat at heart, and feeling that they were abandoning those who had shown them only kindness, had double cause to feel depressed, while the ladies, without knowledge of what the future might contain, could not but be anxious, try their all. And as if these were not spectres enough at the feast, a question of Mrs. Meredith as to Mobray added one more gloomy shadow.

"Fred? alas!" one of the officers replied. "He was sold out, and the poor fellow was lodged in the debtors' prison, as you know. As we chose not to have them fall into the hands of the rebels, a general jail delivery was ordered this morning, which set him at large."

"And what became of him?" asked Janice.

"Would that I could learn!" groaned Andre. "As soon as I was off duty, I sought for him, but he was not to be heard of, go to whom I would. Bah! No more of this graveyard talk. Come, Miss Meredith, I'll give you the subject for a historical painting. I found of Franklin's possessions not a little which took my fancy, and such of it as I chose I carry with me to New York, as fair spoil of war. Prithee, draw a picture of the old fox as he will appear when he hears of his loss. 'T will at least give him the opportunity to prove himself the 'philosopher' he is said to be. I have taken his oil portrait, and when I get fit quarters again I shall hang it, and nightly pray that I may live long enough to do the same to the original. Heaven save me if ever I be captured, though, for I make little doubt that in his rage he would accord me the very fate I wish for him!"

When at last the evening's festivities, if such they might be termed, were over, it was Andre, preceded by a couple of soldiers with lanterns, who escorted them back to their home, and at Janice's request he ordered the two men to remain in the now deserted house.

"They must leave you before daybreak," the officer warned them; "but they will assure you a quiet night. I would that you were safe in New York, however, and shall rest uneasy till I welcome you there. Ladies, you have made many an hour happier to John Andre," ended the young officer, his voice breaking slightly. "Some day, God willing, he will endeavour to repay them."

"Oh, Captain Andre," replied Janice, "'t is we are the debtors indeed!"

"We'll not quarrel over that at parting," said Andre, forcing a merry note into his voice. "When this wretched rebellion is over, and you are well back at Greenwood, and may that be soon, I will visit you and endeavour to settle debit and credit."

Just as he finished, the sound of drums was heard.

"'T is past tattoo, surely?" Mrs. Meredith questioned with a start.

"Ay," answered Andre. "'T is the rogue's march they are ruffling for a would-be deserter who was drum-headed this evening, and whom they are taking to the State House yard to hang. Brrew! Was not the gloom of to-night great enough without that as a last touch to ring in our ears? What a fate for a soldier who might have died in battle! Farewell, and may it be but a short au revoir," and, turning, the young officer hurried away, singing out, in an attempt to be cheery, the soldier's song:—

"Why, soldiers, why Should we be melancholy, boys? Why, soldiers, why, Whose business 't is to die? What, sighing? fie! Drown fear, drink on, be jolly, boys. 'T is he, you, or I!"

XLVIII A TIME OF TERROR

The Merediths were awakened the next morning by sounds which told of the movements of troops, and all day long the regiments were marching to the river, and as fast as they could be ferried, were transferred to the Jersey side, the townspeople who, by choice or necessity, were left behind being helpless spectators meanwhile. Once again the streets of Philadelphia assumed the appearance of almost absolute desertion; for as the sun went down the prudent-minded retired within doors, taking good heed to bar shutters and bolt doors, and the precaution was well, for all night long men might be seen prowling about the streets,—jail-birds, British deserters, and other desperadoes, tempted by hope of plunder.

Fearful for their own safety, Mrs. Meredith and Janice failed not to use every means at hand to guard it, not merely closing and securing, so far as they were able, every possible entrance to the house, but as dark came on, their fear led them to ascend to the garret by a ladder through a trap, and drawing this up, they closed the entrance. Here they sat crouched on the bare boards, holding each other, for what seemed to them immeasurable hours; and such was the intensity of the nervous anxiety of waiting that it was scarcely added to, when, toward daybreak, both thought they detected the tread of stealthy footsteps through the rooms below. Of this they presently had assurance, for when the pound of horses' hoofs was heard outside, the intruders, whoever they might be, were heard to run through the hall and down the stairs with a haste which proved to the miserable women that more than they had cause for fear.

Hardly had this sound died away when a loud banging on the front door reached even their ears, and after several repetitions new fear was given them by the crashing of wood and splintering of glass, which told that some one had broken in a shutter and window to effect an entrance. Once again footsteps on the stairs were heard, and a man rushed into the room underneath them and came to a halt.

"Do you find them?" he shouted to some companion, whose answer could not be heard. "What ho!" he went on in stentorian voice. Is there any one in this house who can give me word of a family of Merediths?"

Janice reached forward and raised the trap, but her mother caught her arm away, and the door fell with a bang.

"'T is all right, mommy," the girl protested. "Didst not hear the jingle of his spurs? 'T is surely an officer, and we need not fear any such."

Even as she spoke the trap was raised by a sabre from below. "Who 's above?" the man demanded, and as Janice leaned forward and peeked through the opening, he went on, "I seek—" There he uncovered. "Ah, Miss Meredith, dark as it is above, I could pick you from a thousand by Colonel Brereton's description. I was beginning to fear some misfortune had overtaken you. I am Captain McLane of the light horse. You can descend without fear."

With a relief that was not to be measured, the two dropped the ladder into place and descended.

"Is Colonel Brereton here?" asked Mrs. Meredith.

"Not he, or I suspect he'd never have given me the thrice-repeated charge to make sure of your safety. He is with the main army, now in full pursuit of the British, and we'll hope to come up with the rats ere they get safely to their old hole. Since you are safe I must not tarry, for there is much to—"

"Oh, Captain McLane, can't you stay?" beseeched Janice. "Do not leave us unprotected. I can't tell you what we have suffered through thought of possible violence, and even now—"



"I will station a trooper at the door," the officer promised; "but have no fear. Already patrols are established, and within an hour broadsides will be posted about the city warning all plunderers or other law-breakers that they will be shot or hanged on sight. General Arnold, who is given command of the city, intends there shall be no disturbance, and he is not the man to have his orders broke."

Set at ease as to their safety, the first concern of the women was a hastily improvised breakfast from the scantily supplied larder which Clowes' servants had abandoned to them. In the kitchen, as well as all over the house, they found ample signs that pilferers had been at work, for every receptacle had been thrown open, drawers dragged out, and the floor littered with whatever the despoilers elected not to take. A month before Janice would probably have been moved to tears at the discovery that her "elegant and dashy robing," as well as her Mischianza costume, had been stolen, but now she scarcely gave either of them a thought, so grateful was she merely to feel that they were safe from violence and insult.

In reinstating her own meagre possessions in their proper receptacles, which was the girls after-breakfast occupation, she came upon an unfinished silk purse, and this served to bring an end for a time to the restoration of order, while she sat upon the floor in a meditative attitude. Presently she laid it on the bureau with a little sigh and returned to her task. Once this was completed, she again took the purse, and seating herself, set about its completion.

Afraid to stir out of doors, and with little to occupy her. the next three days served to complete the trifle, elaborate and complicated as the pattern was. Meantime, a steady stream of Whigs flooded into the city, and from Captain McLane, who twice dropped in to make sure of their well-being, they learned that the Continental Congress was about to resume its sessions in the city. Ocular proof that the rulers of America were assembling was very quickly brought home to the two, for one morning Janice, answering a rap of the knocker, opened the door to the Honourable Joseph Bagby.

"Well, miss. I guess you 're not sorry to see an old friend's face, are you. now that the dandiprat redcoats you've been gallivanting with have shown that they prefer running away to fighting?" was his greeting, as he held out his hand.

Janice, divided in mind by the recollection of his treatment of them and by her fear of the future, extended her own and allowed it to be shaken, as the easiest means of escaping the still more difficult verbal response.

"Are n't you going to ask me in?" inquired the caller, "for I've got something to say."

"I did n't know that you would want to," faltered Janice, making entrance for him. "Mommy will be gla—will be in the parlour," she said, leading the way to that room.

Without circumlocution, Bagby went at the object of his call the moment the equally embarrassing meeting with Mrs. Meredith was over.

"I came up to town," he announced," to 'tend Congress, of which I'm now a member;" and here the speaker paused as if to let the new dignity come home to his hearers. "Did n't I tell you I was a rising man? But I had another object in view in being so prompt, and that was to have a talk with you to see if we can 't arrange things. 'T is n't given to every girl to marry a Congressman, eh, miss?"

"I—I—suppose not," stammered Janice, frightened, yet with an intense desire to laugh.

"Before I say anything as to that," went on Bagby, "I want to tell you that I've been a good friend of yours. Old Hennion, who 's come out hating your dad the worst way, was for introducing a bill in Assembly last session declaring his lands forfeited, but I told him I'd not have it."

"'T is but a duty man owes to prevent evil deeds," said Mrs. Meredith.

"We are very grateful, Mr. Bagby," Janice thought it was necessary to add, with not a little surprise in her voice.

"That's what I guessed you'd be," said the legislator. "Says I to myself, 'They've made a mistake as to the side they took but when they see that the British is beat, they'll do most anything to put themselves right again and save their property.' Now, if Miss Janice will marry me, there is n't any reason why you should n't all come back to Greenwood and live as fine as a fivepence."

"We should not be willing to give thee our daughter, Mr. Bagby, even were she."

"But I am—for the compliment you offer, sir, I thank you," interjected Janice.

"Now, you just listen to reason," protested Joe. "You must n't think it 's only the property I'm set on. I've made a swipe of money in the last year—nigh forty thousand dollars— Continental—so I can afford to marry whom I like; and though I own that thirty thousand acres is no smouch of land, yet I'm really soft on Miss Janice, and would marry her even if she had n't money, now that I've got some of my own."

"It can make no difference, Mr. Bagby," replied the mother. "Neither her father nor I would consent to her wedding thee, and I know her wishes accord with ours."

Joe, with a somewhat bewildered face and a decidedly awkward movement, picked up his hat. "It don't seem possible," he said, "that you'll throw away all that property; for, of course, I'm not going to stand between you and old Hennion when you show yourselves so unfriendly."

"'T is in the hands of One who knows best."

Bagby went to the door. "The Assembly meets on the twenty-eighth," he remarked, "and I promised some of the members I'd quit Congress to 'tend the early part of the session, so I've got to go back to Trenton in three days. If you change your mind before then, let me know."

"Oh, mommy," groaned the girl the moment the door closed, "I wish there were no such things in the world as lovers!" Then she told a yet greater untruth: "Or would that I had been born as plain as Tibbie's aunt!"

"'T is ingratitude to speak thus, child. Hast already forgot the help Philemon tried to give us, and what we owe to Colonel Brereton?"

The girl made no response for a little, then said hurriedly, "Mommy, dost think dadda, and wouldst thou wish me to wed Colonel Brereton, provided 't would save us our lands and let us live in peace at Greenwood?"

"I know not what to say, Janice. It would be a deliverance, indeed, from a future black with doubt and trouble; but thy father holds to his promise to Philemon, and I question if he'd ever consent to have a rebel for a son-in-law. Nor do we know that Colonel Brereton was not but speaking in jest when he said what he did at Greenwood."

"He meant it, mommy," answered the daughter, "for—for at grave risk he stole into Philadelphia last April to see me; and then he vowed he could save us from the Whigs if—if—"

"And wouldst thou wed him willingly?" asked the mother, when Janice lapsed into silence with the sentence unfinished.

With eyes on the floor and cheeks all aflame, the girl answered: "I—I scarce know, mommy. At times when I am with him I feel dreadfully excited and frightened—though never in the way I am with Lord Clowes—and want to get away; but the moment he is gone I—I wish him back, if only he would do but what I'd have him—and yet I like him for— for having his own way—as he always does—though I know he'd do mine if—if I asked him."

"Janice, canst thou not speak less lightly and foolishly?" chided Mrs. Meredith. "If thou lovest the man, say so without such silly maunderings, which are most unbefitting of thy years."

"But I—I don't love Colonel Brereton, mommy," protested the girl; "and I never could, after his—after knowing that he once gave his love to that—"

"And art thou so foolish, Janice," demanded her mother, "as to pretend that thou dost not care for him?"

"Really it—it would only be for you and dadda, and to save the property, mommy," persisted Janice.

"Then why didst thou draw back from Lord Clowes and Bagby?" asked the mother, sternly.

"But I—I could never have—have—Oh, mommy, there is a cart just stopped at the door, and I'll see what is wanted,— an excuse conveniently present for the flustered maiden to escape an explanation.

As it proved, the arrival of the cart was of very material moment, for by the time Janice was at the door a lean-visaged woman had been helped from it, and her salutation was anything but promising.

"Who are you. that you are in my house?" she demanded, and then entered the hall, and, womanlike, would not listen to the explanations that both Janice and her mother sought to make. "Be off with you at once!" she ordered. "I'll not have you here a minute. My son died of fever and starvation in a freezing prison last winter while you made free of his mother's home not a half-mile away. Be thankful I don't have you arrested for the rent, or hound the people into treating you Tory snakes as you deserve. No, you shall not stay to get your clothes; into the street I'll bundle them when I have got them together, and there you'll find them. Out with you!"

Janice was for obeying, but Mrs. Meredith refused positively to leave without packing. Hastily their scanty belongings were bestowed in the two little leathern trunks they had brought originally from Greenwood; these they dragged to the porch, and, sitting upon them, held debate as to their next step.

Ere they had been able to hit upon some escape from the nonplus, their attention was distracted by a rabble of men, women, and boys, who suddenly swept around a corner and flooded down the street toward them. With a premonition of coming evil, Janice sprang to the knocker, and rapped desperately, but their evictor paid no attention to the appeal. In a moment the mob, which numbered not less than a thousand people, reached the steps, hissing, hooting. and caterwauling, and from the din rose such cries as: "Tory, Tory!" "Turn-coats!" "Where are the bloody-backs?" "Ain't we draggle-tails now?"

"Order!" shouted a man in a cart pulled by some of the crowd, for which a way was made by all so that it could be wheeled up to the sidewalk opposite where the two women, holding each other's hands, were despairingly facing the crowd. "Remember, I passed my oath to General Arnold that there 'ud be no violence; an' if we don't keep it, the troops will be down on us. an' some on you will spend a night in the guard-house"

"Hooray!" cheered some one, and the mass echoed the cry.

The spokesman turned to the Merediths. "We know'd the Fourth o' July ain't no joyous day to you-alls, so we've done our bestest to keep you from thinkin' of it by bringin' some one to call on you. Ain't you glad to see again your old friend, Miss Shy Anna?"

As the speaker finished, he stepped to one side, bringing into view of the porch a woman seated upon the head of a barrel in the cart. A poor army drab, left behind in the evacuation, had been decked out in what Janice instantly recognised as her Mischianza costume; and with hair dressed so that it stood up not less than two feet above her forehead, splashed over with white paint, a drink-coloured face, doubly red in contrast, and bare feet, with an expanse of more than ankle in a similar nakedness below the trousers, she made up in all a figure so droll that under any other circumstances Janice would have laughed.

"We are escortin' Miss Shy Anna—who ain't really very shy—to see all her friends of The Blended Rose and of The Burning Mountain, an' as we hate airs an' pride, we demands that each give her a kiss. Just make a way for Miss Meredith to come and give her the chaste salute," he ordered of the throng.

"Thou wilt not insist on such a humiliation for my daughter," appealed Mrs. Meredith.

"Insult!" cried the leader. "Who dares to say 't ain't an honour to kiss one dressed in such clothes? Give the miss a little help, boys, but gently. Don't do her no harm."

A dozen men were through the gate before the sentence was finished, but outcries and a surge of the mob at this point gave a new bent to the general attention. A horseman from the direction opposite to that from which the crowd had come was spurring, with little heed, through the mass, and the clamour and movement were due to the commotion he precipitated.

In twenty seconds the rider, who was well coated with dust, and whose horse was lathered with the sweat of fast riding, had come abreast of the cart, and Janice gave a cry of joy. "Oh, Colonel Brereton," she called, "save us, I beg!"

"What are you about?" demanded the new-comer, sternly, of the crowd.

"We 're celebratin' independence," explained he in the cart, "and all we wants of this miss is that she buss her friend Miss Shy Anna. They both is British sympathisers."

"Be off with you, every doodle and rag-tail of you!" ordered the officer, angrily.

"And who are you?" demanded one; and another, emboldened by distance, recommended, "Pull him off his horse."

Twenty hands seized hold of Brereton; but as they did so, the aide, realising his mistake, retrieved it by a sudden change of manner. "I am an aide of General Washington," he shouted, "and I bring news of a great battle."

An uproar of questions broke out, drowning every other sound, till, by raising his hand, the aide procured silence.

"I must carry the despatches to Congress; but come with me, and I'll give you the tale the moment they are safe delivered."

With a rush the crowd followed him, as he moved forward, deserting the cart and its occupants, who hastily descended, and hurried after the throng. But Jack was not so forgetful, and turning in his saddle, he called back, "I'll return as soon as I can."

XLIX PLATO vs. CUPID

The patience of the two homeless women was heavily taxed before Brereton returned, but finally, after nearly two hours' waiting, he came, almost running along the street.

"Neither the Congress nor the populace were to be put off," he began to explain, ere he was within the gate, "and I have had to retail again and again the story of the fight, and tell 'how our army swore in Flanders.' But I dared not break away from them through fear they would follow me back and force me to play hare to their hounds once more. 'T is a great relief to know that you are safe," Jack declared, as he shook their hands warmly.

"Thanks to you," replied Mrs. Meredith "'T was indeed a mercy of God that thou cam'st when thou didst."

Pray give my mare, who has done her seventy miles since daylight, some share," laughed the officer, heartily.

"Oh, Colonel Brereton, what do we not owe to you?" exclaimed Janice, warmly.

A few words told their champion of their plight and stirred him to hot anger.

"By heavens!" he growled; "I would that my general were here to curse the beldame, as he did Lee at Monmouth. Once you are cared for, I'll return and see that she hear one man's opinion of her. Follow me, and I'll soon put you in comfort." Getting a trunk on each shoulder, he set off down the street.

Did I understand thee aright in inferring that General Washington so far forgot himself as to use profane language?" asked Mrs. Meredith as they walked.

"Ay, Laus Deo!"

"I can't think of him as doing that," ejaculated Janice.

"'T was glorious to hear him, for he spoke with righteous anger as an angel from heaven might, and his every word was well deserved. Indeed, had I been in command, Lee should have had a file of soldiers before sundown for his conduct."

"What did he?"

"Everything that an honourable man should not," answered the aide, warmly. "Finding that Gates had lost favour with Congress, and had failed in his attempt to supplant Washington, he at once resumed his old intriguing. But, worse still, once we were across the Delaware and in full cry after the British, he persisted in the Council of War in asserting that 't would he madness to bring on a general engagement, and that we should keep at a comfortable distance and merely annoy them by detachment,—counsel that would have done credit to the most honourable Society of Midwives, and to them only, and which could mean naught but that he did not wish my general to reap the glory of defeating the British. Voted down, my fine gentleman at first refused the command of the advance; but once he saw that the attack had promise of success, he asserted his claim as senior officer to command it, only, it would seem, with the object of preventing its success, for at the moment of going into action he predicted to Lafayette that our troops could not stand against the British, and instead of supporting those engaged, he allowed them to be thrown into confusion and was the first to join in the retreat which he himself had brought about. 'T was at this moment, when he was actually heading the rout, that my general cantered up to him and demanded, 'By God, sir, what is the meaning of this disorderly retreat?' Lee began a stuttering explanation that did n't explain, so his Excellency repeated his question. 'You know that the attack was contrary to my advice and opinion,' stammered Lee, and then Washington thundered out, 'Then you should not have insisted on the command. You're a damned poltroon!' And 't was what the whole army thought and wanted said."

"'T is too bad General Washington was beat," sighed Janice.

"That he was not," answered Brereton, triumphantly. "When we rode up, not a one of us but thought the day lost, but the general, with a quickness and decision I never before saw in him, grasped the situation, rallied the broken regiments, seized on a strong piece of ground, and not merely checked the British advance, but drove them back on their reserves, where, after nightfall, they were glad enough to sneak away, leaving their wounded and dead behind them. But for Lee's cowardice, or treachery, as I believe it to be, they 'd have never reached the protection of their fleet at Sandy Hook. Yet one benefit of his conduct will be that 't will end all talk of making him commander-in-chief. In seeking to injure his Excellency, he has but compassed his own discrediting, and the cabal against my general in Congress will break down for very lack of a possible successor. We did more than beat the English at Monmouth."

The tale served to bring the trio to the City tavern, where Brereton led the way at once to a room on the second floor, and deposited the two trunks.

"You'll have no more than time to freshen yourselves for dinner, and we'll leave talk till we've eaten that," he suggested, as he picked up a pair of saddlebags and left the room.

"Oh, mommy," sighed Janice, rejoicefully, "is n't it a relief to be told what to do, and not have to worry one's self? He did n't make us think once."

Their self-chosen guardian was equally decisive as to the future, when the subject was taken up after the meal. "I must stay here two days for some despatches Congress wishes me to bear, and 't is fortunate, for I shall have time to procure a second horse and a pillion, so that you may journey with me."

"Whither?"

"To Brunswick."

"I suppose there is naught else left for us," said Mrs. Meredith, doubtingly, "but we have little reason to feel secure there."

"Do not give yourself a moment's discomposure or dolour. We shall find the army there; but, better still, I possess a means to secure your safety, whether it remains or no."

"And what is that?" inquired Mrs. Meredith, eagerly, while Janice, feeling her cheeks begin to burn, suddenly sprang to her feet, with a pretended interest in something to be seen from one of the windows, which enabled her to turn her back to the table.

"By good luck I have a hold over both Esquire Hennion and Bagby, and I'll threat them that unless they let you live at peace I'll use it."

Janice came back to the table. "'T was only the rounds," she remarked with a note of half surprise, half puzzlement, in her voice, which was not lost to her mother's ears.

"Art thou as sure as thou wert, Janice," Mrs. Meredith asked, once they were in their room again, "that Colonel Brereton wishes to wed thee?"

"I—I thought—he said he did," replied the girl, hanging her head with mortification; "but he may have changed his mind."

"I fear me, child, that thy vanity, which has ever led thee to give too much heed to the pretty speeches of men, has misled thee in this instance."

Janice's doubt grew in the next two days, for by not a word or act did the aide even hint that such a hope was present in his thoughts. Their every need was his care, and all his spare time was passed in their company; but his manner conveyed only the courtesy of the friend, and never the tenderness of the lover. Even when the maiden presented him with the silk purse to which she had given so many hours of toil, his thanks, though warm, were distinctly platonic. Both piqued and humiliated at his conduct, the girl was glad enough when, on the morning of the third day, they set out on their journey, and she almost welcomed the advent of Bagby, who overtook them as they were taking their noon baiting at Bristol, and who made the afternoon ride with them.

Another familiar face greeted them, as, toward nightfall, they rode into Trenton and drew rein in front of the Drinkers' house, whither the ladies had asked to be taken; for ere Janice had been lifted from the horse's back, or Mrs. Meredith had descended from the pillion, they were accosted by Squire Hennion.

"I hoped ez haow we wuz well quit of yer," he began; "an' yer need n't 'spect, after all yer goin's on, an' those of yer— ole Tory husband, thet ye're goin' ter be allaowed ter come back ter Greenwood. I persume Joe 's told yer thet he an' I is goin' ter git a bill through this Assembly declarin' yer lands escheated."

"You have n't any right to talk for me, squire," protested Joe. "I can do my own talking; and my sympathies is always with the female sex."

"He, he!" snickered Hennion. "Ain't we doin' the gallant all of a suddint! An' ain't we foxy? Joe, here," he continued, turning to the ladies, "come ter me jest afore we left Brunswick, with a bill he'd draw'd ter take yer lands, an' he says ter me he wuz a-goin' ter push it through Assembly. But by the time we gits ter Trenton, word come thet the redcoats wuz a scuttlin' fer York, so Joe he set off like a jiffy ter see, I persume, if yer wuz ter be faound. Did he offer ter buy yer lands cheap, or did he ask ter be bought off? Or is the sly tyke snoopin' araound arter yer darter?"

Bagby had the grace to grow a brick red at this revelation and home thrust, and he began an attempted explanation. But Brereton, who had helped both his charges to the ground, did not let them give ear to it. "I will bide at the tavern, and we'll start to-morrow as soon after daybreak as we can," he said, as he escorted them to the door, then turned back to the two assemblymen, who were busy expressing frank opinions of each other. "Quarrel as you like," he broke in, "but understand one thing now. That bill must never be introduced, or the pair of you shall hear from me. I warn you both that I have in my possession your signed oaths of allegiance to King George, and if you dare to push your persecution of the Merediths I'll ride from one end of Middlesex County to t' other, and prove to your constituents what kind of Whigs you are, over your own hands and seals." He took the two bridles and walked toward the tavern.

"Thet 'ere is a lie!" cried Hennion, yet following the officer.

"It is, if you never signed such a paper," remarked Jack, drily.

"I defy yer ter show it." challenged Hennion.

"If you want sight of it, introduce the bill," retorted the aide.

"Say, colonel," said Bagby, with a decided cringe, "you won't use those documents against your old friends, will you?"

"'T ain't fer a Continental officer ter injure them cairn ginooine Whigs," chimed in Hennion, "an' only swore an oath cuz it seemed bestest jest then."

"If you don't want those papers known, stop persecuting the Merediths."

"So thet gal 's caught yer, too, hez she? Look aout fer them. They'll use yer ter save theer lands, an' then they'll send yer ter right-abaout, like they done with my Phil. I warns yer agin 'em, an' ef yer don't listen ter me, the day'll come when yer'll rue it."

Meanwhile the Drinkers had made the new arrivals most welcome; and the two girls, with so much to tell each other, found it difficult to know where to begin. They had not talked long, however, when Janice became conscious that there was a rift in the lute.

"My letter," she said, "would have told you better than ever I now can all about the routs and the plays, and everything else; but, alas! some one broke into our house the night the British left Philadelphia, and search as I would the next day, I could not find what I had written you."

"I should think thee 'd be glad," replied Tibbie; "for surely thou 'rt ashamed of having been so Toryish."

"Not I," denied Janice. "And why should I be?"

"Shame upon thee, Janice Meredith, for liking the enemies of thy country!"

"And pray, madam," questioned Janice, "what has caused this sudden fervour of Whigism in you?"

"I never was unfaithful to my country, nor smiled on its persecutors."

"Humph!" sniffed Janice. "One would think, to hear you talk, that you have given those smiles to some rebel lover."

"Better a Whig lover than one of your popinjay British officers," retorted Tibbie, crimsoning.

"Gemini!" burst from the other. "I believe 't is a hit from the way you colour."

"And if 't was—which 't is not—'t is naught to feel ashamed of." resentfully answered the accused.

The two girls had been spatting thus in lowered voices on the sofa, and as Tibbie ended, her disputant's arm was about her waist, and she was squeezed almost to suffocation.

"Oh, Tibbie, wilt tell me all about it—and him—once we are in bed to-night?" begged Janice, in the lowest but most eager of whispers.

Whether this prayer would have been granted was not to be known, for as it was uttered Mr. Drinker interrupted their dialogue.

"Why, Tabitha," he called from across the room, "here 's a great miscarriage. Mrs. Meredith tells me that Colonel Brereton rode with them from Philadelphia, but thinking to o'ercrowd us he has put up at the Sun tavern."

Had the daughter merely remarked that "'T was a monstrous pity," or suggested that her father should at once set off to the hostel to insist on his coming to them, Janice would have thought nothing of the incident; but in place of this Tibbie said, "'T is well," with a toss of her head, even as she grew redder still, and realising this, she pretended that some supper preparation required her attention, and almost fled from the room.

"Colonel Brereton," explained Mr. Drinker, "stopped with us last summer each time he rode through Trenton on public business, and we came to like him much; so glad were we when he was well enough from his wound this spring to once more drop in upon us."

"His wound!" exclaimed Janice.

"Ay," said Miss Drinker. "Didst thee not know that he was hit at Whitemarsh, and was weeks abed?"

Mr. Drinker gave a hearty laugh as the girl shook her head in dissent. "I'll tell thee a secret, Jan," he said, "and give thee a fine chance to tease. There was a girl not a hundred miles from this house who was sorely wounded by that same British bullet, and who pilfered every goody she could find from our pantry, and would have it that I should ride myself to Valley Forge with them all, but that I found a less troublesome conveyance."

"'T was very good of her," said Janice, gravely. "I—I did not know that he had been wounded."

"Thou wert hardly in the way of it," replied Mr. Drinker. "British officers were scarce news sheets of our army."

However praiseworthy Miss Meredith may have thought her friend's kindness to Brereton, one action conveyed the contrary import, for when the bed hour came she said to Tabitha: "I think I'll sleep with mommy, and not with thee, after all."

"Oh, Jan, and I have so much to tell thee!"

"We make so early a start," explained Miss Meredith, "that the sleep is more valuable to me." Then the girl, after a swallow, said: "And I thank you, Tibbie, for being so good to Colonel Brereton, to whom we owe much kindness; for even had we known he was injured, we could have done nothing for him." She kissed her friend and followed her mother.

When Brereton appeared the next morning, Janice mounted the horse which was to bear her while the aide was exchanging greetings with the Drinkers; and when these quickly changed into farewells, she heeded not Tabitha's protest that they had not kissed each other good-by.

"I thought to save time by mounting," explained Janice, "and for this once it does not matter." And during the whole morning's ride the aide found her strangely silent and unresponsive.

Both these qualities disappeared with marvellous suddenness once they were within the Greenwood gate. All along the Raritan the fields were dotted with tents and parks of artillery, and on Greenwood lawn stood a large marquee, from which floated the headquarters' flag, while groups of officers and soldiers were scattered about in every direction. But all this panoply of war was forgotten by the girl, as Sukey, who was carrying some dish from the house to the tent, dropped it with a crash on the ground, and with a screech of delight rushed forward. Janice slid, rather than alighted, from her horse; and as if there were no such things as social distinctions, mistress and slave hugged each other, both rendered inarticulate by their sobs of joy. Further to prove that hearts have nothing to do with the colour of the skin, Billy Lee, who had been following in Sukey's train with another dish, was so melted by the sight that he proceeded to deposit his burden of a large ham on the grass, and began a loud blubbering in sympathy. Their united outcries served to bring two more participants on the scene, for Peg and Clarion came running out of the house and with screams and yelps sought to express their joy.