A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD PHILADELPHIA by AMANDA M. DOUGLAS [Illustration] A. L. Burt CompanyPublishers New York Copyright, 1890, byDodd, Mead and Company. TO MR. AND MRS. HENRY HORTON LAWRENCE. The early youth of an old town has a certain simplicity like the youthof human life. Its struggles, its romance, its unfolding come downthrough the earnest hands that have labored for its welfare and leftimperishable monuments. To the legacies of remembrances you have hadhanded down to you, I add this little story of a long ago time, a posyculled from quaint gardens. _With sincere regard_, AMANDA M. DOUGLAS. NEWARK, N. J. , 1899. CONTENTS. CHAPTER PAGE I. HERE AND THERE, 1 II. BESSY WARDOUR, 14 III. IN A NEW WORLD, 29 IV. OF MANY THINGS, 44 V. A BOULEVERSEMENT, 58 VI. TO THE RESCUE, 74 VII. AT SOME CROSSROADS, 87 VIII. A LITTLE REBEL, 104 IX. FATE TO THE FORE, 122 X. TO TURN AND FIGHT, 134 XI. A RIFT OF SUSPICION, 150 XII. TRUE TO HER COLORS, 167 XIII. UNDER THE ROSE, 183 XIV. FOR NATIVE LAND AND LOYALTY, 200 XV. PARTING, 215 XVI. LOVE AND TRUE LOVE, 231 XVII. MID WAR'S ALARMS, 238 XVIII. WHOM SHALL SHE PITY, 264 XIX. MIDNIGHT TIDINGS OF GREAT JOY, 279 XX. WHEN THE WORLD WENT WELL, 297 XXI. AN APRIL GIRL, 312 XXII. POLLY AND PHIL, 330 XXIII. PRIMROSE, 342 XXIV. THE OLD AND THE NEW, 364 A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD PHILADELPHIA. CHAPTER I. HERE AND THERE. She was swinging her gingham sunbonnet, faded beyond any recognition ofits pristine coloring, her small hand keeping tight hold of the strings. At every revolution it went swifter and swifter until it seemed agrayish sort of wheel whirling in the late sunshine that sent longshadows among the trees. When she let it go it flew like a great bird, while she laughed sweet, merry childish notes that would have stirredalmost any soul. A slim, lithe little maid with a great crop of yellowhair, cut short in the neck, and as we should say now, banged across theforehead. But it was a mass of frowzy curls that seemed full ofsunshine. With two or three quick leaps she captured it again and was justpreparing for her next swirl. "Primrose! Primrose! I think thee grows more disorderly every day. Whatcaper is this? Look at these strings, they are like a twisted rope. Andif thy bonnet had gone into the pond! For that matter it needs thewashtub. " Primrose laughed again and then broke it in the in the middle with afunny little sound, and glanced at the tall woman beside her, who wassmoothing out the strings with sundry pinches. "Certainly thou art a heedless girl! What thou wilt be----" She checkedherself. "Come at once to the kitchen. Wash thy face and hands and combout that nest of frowze. Let me see"--surveying her. "Thou must have aclean pinafore. And dust thy shoes. " Primrose followed Aunt Lois in a spell of wonderment. The scolding wasnot severe, but it was generally followed by some sort of punishment. Aclean pinafore, too! To be set on a high stool and study a Psalm, or berelegated to bread and water, and, oh! she was suddenly hungry. Down inthe orchard were delicious ripe apples lying all about the ground. Whyhad she not gone and taken her fill? She scrubbed her face with her small hands until Aunt Lois said, "Thatis surely enough. " Then she wet her hair and tugged at the tangles, butas for getting it straight that was out of the question. All this timeAunt Lois stood by silent, with her soft gray eyes fixed on the culprit, until Prim felt she must scream and run away. The elder turned to a chest of drawers and took out an apron of homespunblue-and-white check, a straight, bag-like garment with plain armholesand a cord run in at the neck. A bit of tape was quite a luxury, as ithad to be imported, while one could twist cords, fine or coarse, athome. "Your Aunt Wetherill's housekeeper is in the next room. She has comehither to give notice. Next week will be the time to go in town. " "Oh, Aunt Lois! Aunt Lois!" Primrose buried her face in the elder'sgown. A curious yearning passed over the placid countenance, followed bya stronger one of repression, and she unclasped the clinging hands. "It is a misfortune, as I have ever said, and there will be justshifting hither and yon, until thou art eighteen, a long way off. Itmakes thee neither fish nor fowl, for what is gained in one six monthsis upset in the next. But thy mother would have it so. " Primrose made no further protest, but swallowed over a great lump in herthroat and winked hard. What she longed to do was to jump up and downand declare she would not go, in a tone that would reach the townitself. Even well-trained children had unregenerate impulses, butself-control was one of the early rules impressed upon childhood, theseason and soil in which virtues were supposed to take root and flourishmost abundantly. There were two doors opening from this kitchen to a small hall, fromthence to the ordinary living room, and a smaller one adjoining, usedfor a sort of parlor, as we should call it now, a kind of state roomwhere the Friends often held meetings. It was very plain indeed. Therewere straight white curtains at the windows, without a bit of fringe ornetting. Women used to make these adornments as a kind of fancy work, but the rigid rules of the Friends discountenanced all such employments, even if it was to improve odd moments. There was no carpet on the floor, which was scrubbed to spotlessness; chairs of oaken frame, bent, andpolished by the busy housewife until they shone, with seats of broadsplint or rushes painted yellow. A large set of drawers with severalshelves on top stood between the windows, and a wooden settle was rangedalong the wall. A table with a great Bible and two or three religiousbooks, and a high mantel with two enormous pitchers that glittered in abrilliant color which was called British luster, with a brass snuffersand tray and candlesticks, were the only concession to the spirit ofworldliness. Primrose entered with a lagging step behind her aunt. There sat MistressJanice Kent in her riding habit of green cloth faced with red silk, anda habit shirt of the same color just showing at the neck where thelapels crossed. Her hat was wound around with a green veil, and hergauntlet gloves were of yellow buckskin broidered with black. In onehand she still held her riding whip. A somewhat airy butdignified-looking person with dark, rather sharp eyes, and dark hair;and a considerable amount of color, heightened now by the rapidexercise. "Mercy of me! The child has grown mightily!" she exclaimed. "Indeed, there will not be a thing fit for her to wear! Madam Wetherill wasconsidering that, and has sent for new measurements. With the lastvessel in, has come lots of choice stuffs of every kind, and the maidhas already fallen to work. How do you do, Mistress Primrose? Rose wouldbetter become such a blossoming maid without the Prim, " and she laughedgayly, as if pleased with her conceit. "Come hither, child; do not beafraid. There, I'll lay my whip on the floor. It has a threatening look, I will admit, yet 'tis a harmless thing without the owner's hand. I amsent to measure thee, Mistress Rose, and to announce that next Wednesdaythe chaise will be sent out for you, with perhaps Madam Wetherill. Meanwhile we shall be making ready to transform you from a sober grayFriend to a gay young damsel. It is a pity you are not older. Therewill be great doings this winter. " Lois Henry's face settled into sterner lines. It was a sweet andpeaceful face, rendered so by some discipline and much freedom fromcare. For the Friends made small efforts to shine in society, and atthis period there were few calls upon charity or even sympathy. JamesHenry was a prosperous farmer, and the style of living simple. Fair asto complexion, rather aquiline in features, with blue-gray eyes andnearly straight brows, her soft hair drawn back from her forehead andgathered under a plain cap with a frill a little full at the sides andscant across the top, a half square of white linen crossed over herbosom, a gray homespun gown reaching barely to the ankles, with bluehomeknit stockings and stout low shoes with a black buckle on the top, Lois Henry was a fine sample of a Quaker gentlewoman. "There are many things to life beside gayety, " she said rather severely. "And such a child hath much that is useful to learn. " "Oh, we have a tutor in the house, Madam Wetherill's two cousins willspend the winter in town, Miss Betty Randolph from Virginia, and MarthaJohns from some western county. There will be lessons on the spinet andin dancing. " Mistress Kent gave a little smile of malice and a jaunty toss to herhead. "The child needs nothing of that since she comes back to us and plainerliving. She reads well and is not slow in figures. I shall see that sheis instructed in all housewifely ways, but it is ill making headway whenthe tide runs down the stream. " Lois Henry really sighed then. She did hate to have her six months'labor and interest come to naught. She longed to snatch the child fromthese paths of temptation, for now, as she was growing older, they mightbe more alluring. "Come hither, little one, and let me measure you. My, but you have growntall, and keep slim, so there will be less for stays to do. 'As the twigis bent, ' you know, " laughing and showing her even teeth, of which shewas very proud. "And a fine figure is a great advantage. Your hands arenot ill-kept, I see. " They were tanned, but dimpled, with tapering fingers and rosy nails, andthe skin fine and soft. "Hands are for use and not ornament. Thou art to do with thy mightwhatsoever comes in thy way. " "True, Friend Henry. But a clean room may abound in virtue as well as anuntidy one. And a well-kept person surely is no sin. Put off your shoe, child. Ah, you have a slim foot, though no one would think it, to seethe shoe. " She had been taking measurements and putting figures on an ivory tabletthat she slipped into a cloth pocket hanging at her side. "I have the necessary requirements, I believe, and the maid can have afew things in order. We will send in on Wednesday. That is the dateappointed, Friend Henry. " She picked up her whip with an airy grace, and stood tall and straight, her habit falling around her feet. "Now I will bid you good-day, though it is almost evening. Do not lookso sober, little Rose, but then we will soon have smiles displacing theQuaker gravity, which ill beseems young people. Friend Henry, why doyour community consider smiling sinful when it is so pretty and comesfrom a merry heart? A man who went about to commit murder would scarcelysmile, methinks. " "'The laughter of fools is as the crackling of thorns under a pot, '" wasthe somewhat severe answer. "One need not break out into silly giggling, " was the rather tart reply. "I abhor that myself. But a smile on a child's face is much to bepreferred to a frown. 'And a merry heart doeth good like a medicine. '" "'Children, ' saith the wise man, 'are to be brought up in the fear andadmonition of the Lord. '" "Ah, well! luckily there are many rules and opinions in the world. Good-by, Rose-blossom. Next week we will welcome thee at WetherillHouse. " Primrose followed her aunt to the door. There were Mistress Kent's horseand the black servant, who respectfully touched his hat and assisted hismistress to mount, then sprang on his own steed, and with a wave of thehand and a nodding of the veil she cantered away. "Next week! Why, Aunt Lois, how near it is! I had forgotten, " Primroseexclaimed breathlessly. "It would be a most excellent thing if thou wert allowed to forgetaltogether. This continual changing works ill. Now go and stir the mealand feed those late chicks. Put in some of the cracked corn for themother hen. " Primrose went at once, though she was eager to ask about the promisedjourney, but the habit of repression was strong upon her, and obedienceto the letter was exacted from children at that period. It must havebeen a halcyon time for mothers when a child never ventured to ask why. Friend Henry went out to the kitchen again. It was a great room with awide fireplace and a crane that accommodated two kettles. An iron bakingpot stood in a bed of coals, with a plentiful supply on the cover. Theblack woman came and gave it a push partly around, with the tongs, sothat the farthest side should have the benefit of the blaze. There were even then many Friends who owned slaves, indeed most of theservants were of African descent. The feelings and beliefs ofPhiladelphia were more in consonance with the settlements farther south, than those to the north of them. But the Henrys held slavery inabhorrence, and hired their servants. Lois Henry kept but one woman, andshe was quite superior to the average of her race; indeed, like hermistress, was of the persuasion of Friends. The two women busied themselves about the supper. If Friends were plainin their household adornments and attire, they did not stint in food northe trouble of preparing it. Primrose fed the two late broods whose mothers had stolen their nestsand brought off their families in great triumph. One had thirteen, theother eleven. Their mothers ran cheerfully to the coops and called theirprogeny. When the families were within, Primrose took up the slatteddoor and fastened it down with a stake and shut up the peeping things sobusy with their supper. As she was loitering on the way back, she saw her uncle and cousinAndrew talking eagerly. Did they know she was going away next week? Sheran forward and Andrew turned to her with a smile, while his fathertalked on. She clasped his hands in hers so warm and soft. His were brawny andhard, but he was a great fellow and he looked down with a kindly, protective air. "Oh, do you know Aunt Wetherill has sent over, and----" "Yes, " slowly, "we knew it was time. Madam Wetherill does not forgeteasily. " "Primrose!" called her aunt. She hastened to the kitchen, rinsed out her dipper, and hung it up. Uncle Henry was washing his hands and Chloe was taking up the hot breadand dishing the stewed chicken. Oh, how delightfully appetizing thefragrance was! And she was so glad not to have forfeited her right tothe supper. "Come to the table, " said Aunt Lois. The four heads were bowed reverently. There was not much talking at mealtime. Aunt Lois was ever afraid of idle words and vain babbling. UncleJames had a good, hearty appetite, as became his size and strength, andgenerally occupied himself in ministering to it. Children in Quakerhouseholds--indeed, in nearly all others--had the wise old adage dinnedinto their ears that they were to be seen and not heard, and they alsounderstood that they were to be seen as little as possible. When the supper was ended Primrose went out to the kitchen and dried theteacups, of which Aunt Lois was quite choice, and the silverheirlooms--the teaspoons her grandmother had brought from old England. Friend Dunscomb was coming up the path. That meant an evening in thebest room with Uncle James and Aunt Lois. There were many agitatingsubjects to talk about in these days. Primrose walked out of the kitchendoor and around the path, sending a long, dubious glance in thedirection of her new home. Six months ago she had left it. How queer to be divided up in this way. She had felt lonely at Wetherill House, and missed her mother sadly. Tobe sure it was winter, and here on the farm it was glowing, goldensummer. She had not known the dreariness of a long winter here. Therewere so many enchanting things, so much life and joy and beauty. In avague way it thrilled her, even if she did not understand. There wererambles in the lanes, and the orchard where she could climb trees; therewas luscious fruit in which she was never stinted. Rides behind CousinAndrew on Jack, and going to market, as a rare treat, with Uncle James, learning to spin on the little wheel, stealing away to the old garretand reading some forgotten, time-stained books that she dared not askabout. Sometimes she had a misgiving of conscience, but no one everinquired about them, or what she did up there. Andrew came out and took a seat under the old apple tree. She ran downto him. "Andrew, why must I go to Aunt Wetherill's every six months?" she asked. He glanced at her in a slow, irresolute fashion. "I must go again next week. It is like a ball being tossed back andforth. I--I didn't quite like it. I would rather stay here. " "I'm glad of that. " He passed his arm around her and gave her a gentlehug. "But why must I go?" impatiently. "It was thy mother's will. Madam Wetherill was her dearest cousin, likea mother to her. Thou art too young to understand. " "But my mother is dead this long while. " There was a sound of perplexityin the youthful voice. "Yes. It is hard to explain to thee, and a child should not be thinkingof money. Thy father appointed mine guardian of thee. Then the Wardours, thy mother's people, left her some fortune, and as thy father was deadshe made her will as she pleased. " "Is a will such a very bad thing, Cousin Andrew?" she inquired in atimid voice. She had heard much talk through the winter of governing andrestraining the will until it had become a sort of personality to her, and connected solely with a state of grace, another vague territory. He smiled. "This is not----" How could he explain it to hercomprehension? He had only the plainest sort of education. For though itwas true that many of the earliest Friends were versed in worldlyknowledge, they had grown more restricted in their narrower lives in thenew country. And on the farms there were not many advantages. Perhaps hecould mend her confusion of mind in another fashion. "When one has someproperty or money and desires to give it to another, he or she statesthe wish in writing before witnesses. And the law makes this intentionrespected. This is too grave a matter for a child's understanding, butthy mother and Madam Wetherill planned this. When my father protested, this compromise, I think they call it, was decided upon. " Primrose was not much used to long words. Most of the Friends kept tobrief, concise Saxon. "A compromise? Is that why I am changed about so? What queer namesthings have! I like better living straight along. And I was muchfrightened last winter. But there were two little girls in the nextplace, and I should have been sorry enough to leave them, only they weregoing to England to be educated. " Andrew remembered there was some talk of sending her to England, whereshe had a half-brother, but that was not on the mother's side. "Cannot something be done with this wicked compromise? I should like tostay here. Andrew, I love you better than anyone in the wide world. " Andrew hugged her up close and gave a soft sigh. He could remember twolittle girls sleeping in the Friends' burying ground. One would havebeen seventeen now, and had stayed with them five years, dying the nighther sister was born. He had believed it was little Lois come in a newbaby body. And after three brief years she, too, had gone to the othercountry. His mother had been graver ever since; more self-contained, more spiritual, the Friends said. This little girl, whom they had seen occasionally in her mother's life, had crept into his heart during her six months' stay and he hated to lether go. He was so fond of all young and helpless things. The lambs, thetiny chickens, and the calves appealed to him strongly as they lookedout of asking eyes, it seemed to him. He was beginning to chafe underthe colorless, repressed life about him, and the little girl had been agreat outlet for his affection, though much of it had been nursed insecret. "I do not know what can be done, if anything, " he said in answer to herquestion. "But I am truly sorry. I love thee dearly, Primrose. I wishthou wert my sister. " He bent over and kissed the soft, fragrant child lips. Oh, how sweetthey were! Was such tenderness reprehensible? He was beginning to thinkof love and marriage as strong, heartsome youth will, but, strange tosay, the young woman his father approved of was not at all to hisliking. He was nearing man's estate, and though he labored with himselfto repress what he knew would be considered lawless desires, theyreturned again and again. And how much he should long for the sweetnessof this little girl. She put her arms up around his neck and her soft, caressing fingersseemed to play with his very heart strings. Oh, how dear she was! Andher new life would be so different. Madam Wetherill rather flouted theFriends with what she called their drab religion. "Primrose! Primrose!" called the curiously soft voice of Chloe, that hada different accent from the habitual evenness of the real Quaker tone. "Where is the child!" "Here! here! I am coming. " She gave Andrew one long, tender kiss andthen walked rapidly to the kitchen porch. "Thee should have been in bed with the chickens. Go at once. The moon iscoming up and thou wilt need no light. Forget not thy prayers. MistressJanice is an emissary of the evil one that thou must resist. " Primrose went up to her chamber under the eaves in a state of halfterror and restrained rebellion. CHAPTER II. BESSY WARDOUR. It was a rather curious tangle, as Primrose Henry was to learnafterward. Philemon Henry was older than his brother James, and in tradein the city that William Penn had planned and founded in an orderlymanner. And though it is the common belief that Philadelphia was born atright angles and on a level, at its early inception there was muchdiversity to it. Creeks swept it in many directions, and there werehills and submerged lands waiting for the common sense of man to fill upand hew down the romance. Even before Revolutionary times there was muchbusiness on the wharves of the Delaware, and many men owned tradingships and warehouses. And though England had made no end of bothersomeand selfish restrictions as to trade, men had found ways to evade them;at some peril, it is true, but that added zest. Philemon Henry was tolerably successful in his undertakings and adheredto the faith of William Penn, even if his own son afterward went astray. He married an Englishwoman of good descent, who had left her native landwith a company of Friends for the sake of the larger liberty. The fine, stalwart Quaker had soon attracted her, and with him she spent threeyears of happy married life, when she died, leaving a baby boy of littlemore than a year old. A goodly housekeeper came to care for them, andthe boy throve finely. She would willingly have married Philemon, butas he evinced no inclination, she provided for her old age by marryinganother well-to-do Friend. And then, as sometimes happens in a widower'shousehold, there was an interregnum of trouble and disorder. He had business dealings with the Wardours and met a connection, anorphan, pretty young Bessy Wardour, who fell in love with the fine, strong, still handsome Quaker, whose attire was immaculate, and whosemanners were courtly. And he surprised himself by a tenderness for thewinsome, kittenish thing, who, for his sake, laid aside her fripperiesand, to the amazement of her relatives, joined the Society of Friends. But if she had been tempting in her worldly gear, she was a hundredtimes more bewitching in her soft grays that were exquisite in quality, and her wide brim, low-crowned beaver tied under her dimpled chin with abow that was distracting. The great blue eyes were of the melting, persuasive kind, her voice had a caressing cadence, and her smile wasenough to conquer the most obdurate heart, and yet withal she had an airof masquerading and enjoyed it to the full. She was deeply in love withPhilemon, and though he struggled against a passion he deemed almostungodly, she being so young and pretty, she conquered in the end. Healmost scandalized the Society when he stood up to be married. The youngQuaker women envied her, the elders shook their heads doubtfully. She was sunny and charming and did adore her great stalwart husband. Shehad so many tempting, beguiling ways, her kisses had such a delicioussweetness that he sometimes felt afraid. And yet, was she not his lawfulwife, and had he not a right? Were not husbands enjoined to be tenderto their wives? She charmed little Phil as well. She played with him, ran races, repeated verses, caressed him until sometimes the father wasalmost jealous of the tenderness showered upon the child. She had such adainty taste and was always adding delicate touches to the plain Quakerhabits that made them seem twice as pretty. Sometimes he tried to frownupon them. "But God has made the world beautiful, " she would protest. "And is itnot for us, his children? If I go out in the lanes and woods and gatherwild flowers that have cost no man any time or strength to be taken frommoney-getting and business, but have just grown in God's love, and putthem here in a bowl and give Him thanks, what evil have I done? Inheaven there will be no business, and we shall have to adore His worksthere, not the works of our own hands. " "Thou hast a subtle tongue, dear one, and what thou sayest seems to havean accent from a finer world. I am at times sore at loss----" "Thou must believe in a kindly All-father and the eyes of thy inner soulwill be opened. " Then she would kiss him tenderly and he would go away much puzzled. Presently an incident happened that caused them both no littleperplexity. The Nevitt estate had lost its direct heir, and that of LeahNevitt was next in succession, after an old great-uncle, who sent forthe boy to be brought up in English ways and usages. Sir Wyndham Nevittwas not a Friend, though several branches of the family were. And ifPhilemon Henry failed, the next heir was a dissolute fellow up inLondon, who would soon make ducks and drakes of the fine old estate. "It does seem a pity that it should be destroyed, " said the young wife. "If only the boy were old enough to choose! But, you see, he is next inthe succession, and it would come to him even if he were here. Englishlaws are curious. I should hate to give up the boy. He is a sweet childand a great comfort to me when thou art away. But his welfare ought tobe considered. " "And thou dost spoil him every hour in the day. I should have to sendhim away presently for some sterner training. And then"--she blushedscarlet at the hope--"there may be other sons and daughters. " Friend Henry took counsel of several respected and judicious men, andthe weight of it lay with sending the child abroad. It would be a hardwrench, but if he was called upon to do it? Many that he knew had senttheir children abroad for education, the advantages being limited athome. And it was true that the settlers below New York had a much warmeraffection for the mother country than the Puritans of New England. It ended by little Philemon Henry being sent abroad with many tears andmuch reluctance, and a safe convoy. The boy went quite readily, underthe impression that he could come back frequently, and having no idea ofthe length of the journey, but being an adventurous little fellow. Bessy Henry sorrowed deeply. "The house was as if one had been buriedout of it, " she said. Then her own baby was born. Philemon Henry was disappointed that it should be a girl. "Do not mind, husband, " she said in her winsome way, "this shall be _my_child, for its head is full of yellow fuzz like mine, and its eyes areblue. Presently there will be a son with dark eyes, and no doubt ahouseful of sons and daughters, " laughing merrily. "And Phil, I think, will be better pleased about a sister. He might be jealous if we filledhis place so soon. " There was some wisdom in that, and quite a comfort to the father'sheart. The baby's name was the first real disagreement. She grew rapidly andwas a bright, smiling little thing. Bessy loved her child extravagantly, jealously. But she would have none of the plain or biblical names herhusband suggested. She laughed at them with her bright humor and mademerry amusement over them, calling the child by endearing and fancifulappellations. To-day she was one kind of a flower, to-morrow another, and Rosebud a great deal of the time. She was often at the house of Madam Wetherill. Indeed, she was generallyspoken of as the gay little Quaker, but it was only her slimgracefulness and dainty ways that gained this description, for she wasquite tall. She discarded her thees and thous here, though at that dayall language was much more formal. Sometimes, when her husband was to beaway all day, she would take the child and its nurse and spend the timewith her relative. It was after one of these occasions that she took off a little of theworldly frippery she had indulged in and put on her very plainest cap, but she could not disguise the arch, pretty face, and this evening itreally seemed more beguiling than ever. Caresses of all kinds werefrowned upon as being not only undignified, but savoring of the worldand the flesh. Still, Philemon Henry would have sorely missed thegreeting and parting kiss his wife gave him. She had a certainadroitness, too, and the tact to make no show of this before thebrethren, or any of the sober-minded sisters. He sometimes wondered ifit was not "stolen waters, " it had such an extraordinary flavor ofsweetness. Then he would resolve to forget it, but he never did. She kissed him tenderly this evening. His dinner was excellent, hisday's work had been very profitable, and he was in high good humor. "Husband, " she began afterward, leaning her head on his shoulder, "Imust make a confession to thee of my day's doings. Thou wilt be angry atfirst, but it is done now, " smilingly. "Hast thou been up to some mischief?" His tone had a sense of amusementin it. "Very serious mischief. For a brief while I felt like going back to thefaith of my childhood, but my love for thee will keep me in the straightand narrow faith. But to-day I have had my babe christened in ChristChurch, and named Primrose. " "Bessy!" in a horror-stricken tone. He strove to put her from him, but she clung the more tightly. "Bessy! woman! To do such an unlawful thing!" "It is not unlawful to give a Christian name. " "A vain, trifling, heathenish name!" he interrupted fiercely. "I willhave none of it! I will----" "God made a Primrose and many another beautiful thing in this world ofHis. He has even given me a prettiness that plain Quaker garb cannotwholly disguise. Suppose I scarred my face and deformed my body, wouldmy praise be any more acceptable to Him? And people do not all thinkalike. They look at religion in divers ways, and so they who dealjustly and are kind to the poor and outcast, and keep the Commandmentsare, I think, true Christians in any garb. And her name is writ in theChurch books, her legal, lawful name that only the law can change. Andsee, husband, thou shalt call thy son whatever pleaseth thee. But thelittle daughter is mine own. " "She is my child as well. And to go through all this mummery that webelieve not in, that we have come to this new country to escape! It iswicked, sinful!" "And some consider that discarding all forms and sacraments is sinful. Iam sure God ordained many for the Jews, his chosen race!" "Which they could not keep, which were of no importance to realsalvation. Then Christ came and all was abrogated. " "Nay, He added to the Commandments the one tenderer rule--thou shaltlove thy neighbor as thyself. " "Woman, thou art full of excusing subtleties. Thou art no true Friend, methinks. Is there any real conviction under thy plain garb, or was itonly put on for----" "For love of thee, " she interrupted with brave sweetness shining in herappealing eyes. "I was in Christ's household before I knew thee. Iworshiped God and prayed to Him and gave thanks. He hath not made theworld all alike, one tree differeth from another, and the lowly Primrosegroweth where other flowers might not find sustenance, but God carethfor them all, and gives to each its need and its exquisite coloring. Sohe will care for the child, never fear. " "But I am very angry at thy disobedience. " "Nay, it was not that, " and a glimmering light like a smile crossed hersweet face. "I did not ask and thou didst not deny. " "Sophistry again. Thou art still in the bonds of iniquity. " "And thou must forgive seventy times seven. Thou must do good to thosethat despitefully use thee. If thou art so much wiser and stronger thanI, then set this example. I have done many things to please thee. And, husband, thou canst call the little one Prim. I am sure that is plainenough, but to me she will be Rose, the blended sweetness of threelives. " He broke away from her. She had softened many points in his character, he knew, and just now she was a temptress to him. He must assert his ownsupremacy and deliver himself from these dangerous charms. Just now itlooked sinful to him that she had come over to the Friends' persuasionfor love of him. She had been a sweet, thoughtful wife, he could not deny that. But hehad been weak to yield to so much happiness. And when the brethren heardof this outrage put upon their usages there would be hard times for her. Suddenly his whole soul protested against having her haled before themeeting. Oh, what had her spirit of willfulness led her into! She went back to her baby, kissed it and caressed it, prepared it forthe night, and sang it to sleep. Philemon Henry wrote long in his littleoffice at home, where he kept sundry business matters he did not wanthis clerks gossiping about. There were only two discreet friends that hehad taken into his confidence and his ventures. Just now there was aslight, uneasy feeling that if he were brought to the strictestaccount--and yet there was nothing really unlawful in his gains. Therewere many curious questions in the world, there were diverse people, many religions. And the Friends had sought out liberty of conscience. Was it liberty to compel another? Bessy and her child were sleeping sweetly when he glanced at them, andhis heart did soften. But he would never call her by that name. He wouldgive her another. Bessy was up betimes and made some delicacy with her own hands for herhusband's breakfast. She came around and kissed him on the forehead aswas her morning custom, and though she was a little more grave thanusual, she was serene and charming. But he must show her how displeasedhe was. The christening had been very quiet. Madam Wetherill had been godmother, and the godfather was a distant relative who resided in New York. GoodParson Duché had been asked to keep the matter private. And so, if themeeting came to know, Philemon Henry must be the accuser. It was hisduty, of course, but he put it off month after month. The babe grewsweet and winsome, and there were many things beside family cares todistract men's minds: The friction between the mother country and gravequestions coming to the fore; the following out of Mr. Penn's plans forthe improvement of the city, the bridging of creeks and the filling upof streets, for there was much marsh land; the building of docks for thetrade that was rapidly enlarging, and the public spirit that wasbeginning to animate the staid citizens. Philemon Henry called his babe little one, child, and daughter, and themother was too wise to flaunt the name in his face. She had great faithin the future. "For if you keep stirring your rising continually, you will have no goodbread, " she said. "Many things are best left alone, until the righttime. " She dressed the child quaintly, and she grew sweeter every day. But theytalked about the son they were to have, and other daughters. Little Philwrote occasionally. He was studying in an English school, but he hadspells of homesickness now and then, and his uncle said if he learnedsmartly he should take a voyage to America when he was older. NevittGrange was a great, beautiful place with a castle and a church andpeasants working in the fields. And he was to go up to London to see theking. One damp, drizzling November night Philemon Henry came home with sosevere a cold that he could hardly speak. He had been on the dock allday, supervising the unloading of a vessel of choice goods. He could eatno supper. Bessy made him a brew of choice herbs and had him hold hisfeet in hot water while she covered him with a blanket and made a steamby pouring some medicaments on a hot brick. Then he was bundled up inbed, but all night long he was restless, muttering and tumbling about. He would get up in the morning, but before he was dressed he fell acrossthe bed like a log, and Bessy in great fright summoned the doctor. He had never been ill before, and for a few days no one dreamed ofdanger. Then his brother James was summoned, and his clerk from thewarehouse, and there were grave consultations. Bessy's buoyant naturecould not at first take in the seriousness of the case. Of course hewould recover. He was so large and strong, and not an old man. Alas! In a brief fortnight Philemon Henry lay dead in the house, andBessy was so stunned that she, too, seemed half bereft of life. She hadloved him sincerely, and for months they had forgotten their unfortunatedifference over the child's name. And when he was laid in the buryingground beside his first wife, there was a strange feeling that he nolonger belonged to her, and she was all alone; that somehow the bond hadsnapped that united her with the Friends. Philemon Henry had made a will in the lucid intervals of his fever. Hisbrother was appointed guardian of the child and trustee of the property. To Bessy was left an income in no wise extravagant, so long as sheremained a widow. The remainder was to be invested for the child, whowas not to come into possession until she was twenty-one. She and hermother were to spend half of every year on the farm, and in case of themother's death she was to be consigned to the sole guardianship of heruncle. There were a few outside bequests and remembrances to faithfulclerks. The other trustee was Philemon's business partner, who had latelyreturned from Holland. If Friend Henry had lived a few years longer hewould have been a rich man, but in process of settlement his worldlywealth shrank greatly. Uncle James proposed that the house should be sold, and she be free fromthe expense of maintaining it. "Nay, " she protested. "Surely thou hast not the heart to deprive me ofthe little joy remaining to my life. The place is dear to me, for I cansee him in every room, and the garden he tended with so much care. Thouwilt kill me by insisting, and a murder will be on thy hands. " She spent the winter and spring in the house. One day in every week shewent to cousin Wetherill's. The elder lady, a stickler for fashion, suggested that she should wearmourning. "I like not dismal sables, " declared Bessy. "And it is not the custom ofFriends. I shall no doubt do many things I should be restricted fromwere my husband alive, but I will honor him in this. " She attended the Friends' meeting on Sunday afternoon, but the eveningassemblies that had convened at the Henrys' once a fortnight weretransferred to another house. And in summer, although she went to theHenry farm, she made visits in town and resumed some of her oldfriendships. The next autumn there came an opportunity to sell the house and thebusiness, and James Henry urged it. "Then her home will be here with us, " he said to his wife. "Philemon wasanxious to have the child brought up under the godly counsel of Friends, and she will be less likely to stray. I think she is not a whole-heartedFriend, and her relatives are worldly people. " But when the place was sold she went at once to Madam Wetherill's. Andshe began to lay aside her Quaker plainness and frequented ChristChurch; indeed, though she was not very gay as yet, she was a greatattraction at the house of her relative. Before the summer ended an event occurred that gave her still greaterfreedom of action. This was a legacy from England left to the Wardourbranch in the New World, and as there were but three heirs, her portionwas a very fair one. There was some talk of Madam Wetherill taking herto England, but the cold weather came on, and there seemed so manythings to settle. That winter she went over to the world's peoplealtogether. "I think, Bessy, you should make a will, " said Madam Wetherill as theywere talking seriously one day. "It will not bring about death anysooner. I have had mine made this fifteen years, and am hale and hearty. But, if anything should happen, the child will be delivered over to theHenrys and brought up in the drab-colored mode of belief. It seems hardfor little ones so full of life. " "She must have her free choice of religion. Having tried both, " andBessy gave a dainty smile, "I like my own Church the best. If she shouldgrow up and fall in love with a Friend, she can do as she likes. Thereare not many as manly and handsome as was Philemon. Indeed I think theymake their lives too sad-colored, too full of work. I should go wild ifI lost my little one, but Lois Henry goes about as if nothing hadhappened. I found it a luxury to grieve for Philemon. There is wisdom inthy suggestion. " A lawyer was sent for and the matter laid before him. She could appointanother guardian now that she had money of her own to leave the child, and she could consign it part of the time to that guardian's care. There was much consultation before the matter was settled. And though, when the time came, she moved some chests of goods out to the farm andmade a pretense of settling, she and Madam Wetherill soon after went upto New York and were gone three full months. James Henry found himself circumvented in a good many ways by woman'swit. There was no dispute between them, and much as he objected to theways of the world's people, he had no mind to defraud his small nieceout of a considerable fortune that might reasonably come to her. Indeedhe began to be a little afraid of Bessy Henry's willfulness. And shemight marry and leave all of her money to a new set of children. But fate ordered it otherwise. Bessy went for a visit to Trenton, andthough she was rarely separated from her darling, this time she left herbehind. She did not return as soon as she expected, on account of afeverish illness which would be over in a few days, her friendsinsisted, but instead developed into the scourge of smallpox, thetreatment of which was not well understood at that time, and though shewas healthy ordinarily, the bleeding so reduced her strength that shesank rapidly and in a week had followed her husband. Madam Wetherill was cut to the very heart by the sad incident, for sheloved Bessy as if she had been her own daughter, and she was tenderlyattached to baby Primrose, who was too little to realize all she hadlost. When Friend Henry preferred his claim to his brother's child, he was metby some very decided opposition. In the first place the child had beenchristened in the church, and was, according to her mother's wishes, tobe left in Madam Wetherill's charge for six months every year and beinstructed in the tenets of her own church, and to remain perfectly freeto make her choice when she was eighteen. If her mother's wishes couldnot be carried out, her fortune was to revert to Madam Wetherill, andshe would inherit only what her father bequeathed her. "I cannot believe my brother was knowing to this nefarious scheme!"cried Friend Henry in a temper. "And I always thought Primrose a mostungodly name. It was his wish she should become a Friend. " "And if your son marries among the world's people and leaves the faithwhat will you do?" asked Madam Wetherill. "I should disown him, " was the hasty reply. "Then Bessy had a right to disown her child if she left the faith. Seehow unreasonable you are, Friend Henry, and how little true love is inyour mind. Now if you have any regard for the little child do not let usquite dismember her after the fashion of Solomon's judgment. You mayhave her next summer, and I in the winter. I warn you, if you do notagree, I shall fight to the end. I have no children of my own to depriveif I go on lawing, and my purse will surely hold out as long as yours. " That was true enough; longer, he knew. So, after a while, he assentedungraciously, and the matter was adjusted. But it was not a happy omen that the child's name should cause onequarrel and the possession of her another. She herself was bright andjoyous, with much of her mother's merry nature and her clear, frank, beguiling blue eyes. CHAPTER III. IN A NEW WORLD. A very homesick little girl was Primrose Henry when she went out to heruncle's farm. The nurse went with her, but Lois Henry preferred that sheshould not stay. The child was old enough to wait upon herself. She hada longing for it to fill the vacant place of her own little girls, butshe knew that was carnal and sinful, and strove against it. Since Godhad deprived her of them it was not right to put aught else in theirplace. So it was a continual struggle between love and duty, and she wascold to the little stranger. The name, too, was a stumbling block. They had to accept it, however, and called her Primrose with the soberest accent. Uncle James felt soreabout being worsted in his suit, for he had desired supreme control ofthe child. She soon found things to love. There was the big house dog Rover. Tiger, the watch dog, was kept chained in the daytime and let loose at night toward off marauders. But he soon came to know her voice and wagged histail joyously at her approach. She was quite afraid of the cows, but apretty-faced one with no horns became a favorite, and she used to carryit tid-bits to eat. The cats, too, would come at her call, though theywere not allowed in the house. And there was Andrew. She was very shy of him at first, but he coaxedher to look at a bird's nest with its small, blue-speckled eggs. Andthere were the chickens that, as they grew larger, followed her about. Andrew found the first ripe early pear for her, and the delicious, sweetJuly apple; he took her when he went fishing on the creek, but shealways felt sorry for the poor fish so cruelly caught, it seemed to her. He taught her to ride bareback behind him, and some boyish tricks thatamused her wonderfully. Aunt Lois trained her in spelling, in sums in addition, sewingpatchwork, and spinning on the small wheel. But there was not enough inthe simple living to keep a child busy half the time, and she soon foundways of roaming about, generally guarded by Rover. Aunt Wetherill hadsaid, "In six months you are coming back to us, " so at first she wasvery glad she was not to stay always. It is the province of happy and wholesome childhood to forget the thingsthat are behind, or even a future in which there is dread. The life ofchildhood is in the present, and it finds many pleasures. So nowPrimrose had almost forgotten her joyous and sorrowful past, and reallydreaded the next change. She hated to leave Andrew, the dogs and thechickens, the cows that she did not fear quite so much, the greatorchard, the long reaches of meadows, and the woods where the birds sangso enchantingly. But Aunt Lois had not grown into her heart, and shestood greatly in awe of Uncle James, who had a way of speaking sharplyto her. But black Cato came with Madam Wetherill in the lumbering chaise, whichwas a great rarity at that period. Primrose was dressed in a whitehomespun linen frock. At this early stage of the country's industriesthey were doing a good deal of weaving at Germantown, though manypeople had small looms in their houses. Imported goods were high, andnow that so much of the land was cleared and houses built, they had timefor other things, and were ingenious in discoveries. Madam Wetherill was very grand in her satin petticoat and brocade gown, that fell away at the sides and made a train at the back. Her importedhat of Leghorn, very costly at that period but lasting half a lifetime, had a big bow of green satin on top, and the high front was filled inwith quilled lace and pink bows. From its side depended a long whitelace veil with a deep worked border of flowers. Her shoes had glitteringbuckles, and she wore a great brooch in her stomacher. Primrose was dreadfully shy, she saw so few strangers. She scarcelyraised her eyes to the rustling dame, and her heart beat with unwontedagitation. Madam Wetherill wanted to laugh at the queer little figure, but she wasbetter bred, and kept a lingering fondness for the child's mother. Besides, she was one of the possible heirs to her fortune, and some ofthe grandnieces and nephews were not altogether to her fancy. And thoughshe was high-spirited and could both resent and argue fiercely, she hadthe Wardour suavity, and some early training abroad in the Court. "Come hither, little one, " and she held out her jeweled hand. "FriendHenry, I should have called to see my grandniece, but you remember wethought it best not so to do. You have had the uninterrupted six months, and I can see you have kept her well. What a clear complexion the childhath! A little sun-burned, perhaps. Her mother was a fine hearty woman, and it was a thousand pities she had not been inoculated and cared forcarefully, instead of being attacked in that blind way no one suspected. She was a sweet thing and I loved her as a daughter of my own, though Iwould fain not have had her marry Philemon Henry. But la! love rules usall, at least us worldly people. I am thankful for thy good care ofPrimrose. And now, child, put on thy hood or cap or whatever 'tis, andcome to thy new home, where we promise to treat thee well. " "And return her to us, " subjoined Lois Henry, almost afraid to let hergo now that the time had come. "Get thy hat, child. " Chloe entered just then with a glass of home-made wine of excellentflavor and age, and some newly baked cake that was quite enough in itsvery appearance to make one long to taste it. And the napkin she spreadon my lady's lap was fine and soft, if it had not been woven in Englishair and taken a sea voyage. Primrose had glanced up at the lady when she began to address her, andone by one old memories returned. Friend Henry never spoke of her motheror Madam Wetherill, and in six months a good deal drops out of a child'smind, but she smiled a little as the stream of remembrance swept overher, and recalled her pretty mother's kisses and fondness and abeautiful house that had made this seem like a desert to her. And MadamWetherill squeezed the small hand in a friendly manner, then began toeat her cake and praise it as well, though Friend Henry protestedagainst that. "Chloe, bring the child's hat, " she said in so calm a tone it hardlyseemed a command. Then Madam took her by the hand and they walked out together and theblack servant put her in the chaise. Madam Wetherill spread out her finegown so that it almost covered the plain garments of the child. Lois Henry had merely uttered the briefest of good-byes, with no partingkiss. She had given her some counsel before. Yet when she shut the maindoor that opened into the sitting room, for the strictest of Friendswould have no parlor, she sat down suddenly and put both hands to herface. It would be very hard to part thus every year, to know one'ssincere efforts in training the child to a godly life would be uprootedby the vain show of the world, so attractive to youth, and the vision ofthe two little girls gone out never to return, swept over her with apang. Why could she not give them wholly to the Lord, and be glad theywere in His fold, safe from evil? And this little one--Madam Wetherillwas quite at middle life--she herself was surely younger and mightoutlive the other. But at eighteen the child could choose, and she wouldbe likely to choose the ways of the world, so seductive to youth. They did not go in to the city house, which was being repaired andcleaned. Many people owned farms along the banks of the Schuylkill andin the outlying places, where choice fruits of all kinds werecultivated, melons and vegetables for winter use as well as summerluxury. For people had to provide for winter, and there was muchpickling and preserving and candying of fruits, and storing commonerthings so that they would keep well. The houses were large, if rambling and rather plain, with porches wideenough to dance on on the beautiful moonlight nights. And there weresailing and rowing on the river, lovely indeed then with its shadedwinding banks, mysterious nooks, and little creeks that meandered gentlythrough sedgy grass and rested on the bosom of their mother, lost in hertenderness. Parties of young people often met for the afternoon and evening. Therewould be boating and dancing and much merrymaking. The people of thissection were less strenuous than the New Englanders. They affiliatedlargely with their neighbors to the South. Indeed, many of the businessmen owned tobacco plantations in Maryland and Virginia. They kept incloser contact with the mother country as well. Madam Wetherill herselfhad crossed the ocean several times and brought home new fashions andcourt gowns and manners. The English novelists and poets were quite wellread, and, though the higher education of women was not approved of, there were bright young girls who could turn an apt quotation, werequick at repartee, and confided to their bosom friend that they hadlooked over Sterne and Swift. They could indite a few verses on themarriage of a friend, or the death of some loved infant, but pretty, attractive manners and a few accomplishments went farther in the gentlersex than much learning. The Friends who were in society were not so over strict as to theirattire. Those who lived much alone on the farms, like Lois Henry, or ledrestricted lives in the town, pondered much on how little they couldgive to the world. But they took from it all they could in thriftinessand saving. Young Mrs. Penn and Mrs. Logan and many another indulged in pretty gear, and grays that went near to lavender and peachy tints. There werepearl-colored brocades and satins, and dainty caps of sheerest materialthat allowed the well-dressed hair to show quite distinctly. There wasalso a certain gayety and sprightliness in entertaining, since therewere no matinées or shows to visit. Both hostess and guest were expectedto contribute of their best. Madam Wetherill had long been a well-to-do widow and conducted her largeestate with ability, though she employed a sort of overseer orconfidential clerk. She had inherited a good deal in her own right fromthe Wardours and sundry English relatives. Some of the Wetherills wereof the Quaker persuasion, but her husband had wandered a little from thefold. She had been a Churchwoman, and still considered herself so, butshe was of a very independent turn, and on her last visit to England hadcome home rather affronted with the light esteem in which many professedto hold the colonies. "They talk as if we were a set of ignoramuses, " she declared in highdudgeon. "We are worthy of nothing but the tillage of fields andwhatever industries the will of the mother country directs. Are we, their own offspring, to be always considered children and servants, andhave masters appointed over us without any say of our own? We can buildships. Why can we not trade with any port in the world? What if we haveraised up no Master Chaucer nor Shakspere nor Ben Jonson, nor wise LordBacon and divers storytellers--did England do this in her early yearswhen she was hard bestead with the hordes from the Continent? We havehad to make our way against Indian savages, and did we not conquer theFrench in our mother's behalf? And then to be set down as ignorantchildren, forsooth, and told what we must do and from what we mustrefrain. The colonies have outgrown swaddling-clothes!" But she was fond of gayety and pleasure as well, and having no childrento place in the world and no really near kindred but first and secondcousins she saw no need of being penurious, and lived with a free hand. She was very fond of young people also, and it seemed a great pity shehad not been mother of a family. Her city house was a great rendezvous, and her farmhouse was the stopping place of many a gay party, and oftena crowd to supper with a good deal of impromptu dancing afterward. The porch was full of young people now, with two or three men inmilitary costume, so they drove around to the side entrance. MistressJanice was busy ordering refreshments and making a new kind of frozencustard. A pleasant-faced, youngish woman came to receive them. "Here is the little Quaker, Patty, in her homespun gown. I might as wellhave sent you, for Friend Henry made no time at all, but was as meek asa mild-mannered mother sheep. It is the law, of course, and they had noright to refuse, but I was a little afraid of a fuss, and that perhapsthey had set up the child against such ungodly people. " "Oh, how she has grown!" cried Patty. "Child, have you forgotten me?" "Oh, no!" said Primrose a little shyly. "And my own mother liked you so. You were my nurse----" She slipped her hand within that of the woman. "She was a sweet person, poor dear! It will always be a great loss tothee, little child. Oh, madam, the eyes are the same; blue as a bit ofsky between mountains. But she is not as fair----" "Thou must bleach her up with sour cream and softening lotions that willnot hurt the skin. There, child, go with Patty, who will get thee intosomething proper. But she is like her mother in this respect, commongarb does not disfigure her. " Patty led her upstairs and through the hall into a sort of ell partwhere there were two rooms. The first had a great work table withdrawers, and some patterns pinned up to the window casings that seemedlike parts of ghosts. The floor was bare, but painted yellow. There wasa high bureau full of drawers with a small oblong looking-glass on top, a set of shelves with a few books, and numerous odds and ends, a longbench with a chintz-covered pallet, and some chairs, beside a sort ofwashing stand in the corner. The adjoining room was smaller and had twocot beds covered with patchwork spreads. "Yes, thou hast grown wonderfully, " repeated Patty. "And who cut thylovely hair so short? But it curls like thy mother's. I find myselftalking Quaker to thee, though to be sure the best quality use it. " "I had so much hair and it was so warm that it hath been cut severaltimes this summer. " "Oh, you charming little Friend!" Patty gave her a hug and half a dozenkisses. "I'll warrant thou hast forgotten the old times!" "It comes back to me, " and the blue eyes kindled with a soft light thatwould have been entrancing in a woman. "Aunt Lois checked me when Iwould have talked about them. And when I was here--it was in the otherhouse, I remember--I was so sad and lonely without my dear mamma. " She gave a sigh and her bosom swelled. "Patty, I cannot understand clearly. What is death, and why does Godwant people when He has so many in heaven? And a little girl has but onemother. " "Law, child! I do not know myself. The catechism may explain it, but Iwas ever a dull scholar at reading and liked not study. Yes, thy facemust be bleached up, and I will begin this very night. They were good tothee"--tentatively. "I always felt afraid of Uncle James, though he never slapped me butonce, when I ran after the little chickens. They were such balls ofyellow down that I wanted to hug them. Afterward I asked Andrew what Imight do. He was very good to me, and he wished I had been his littlesister. " Patty laughed. "And did you wish it too?" "I liked my own dear mother best. When I was out in the woods alone Italked to her. Do you think she could hear in the sky? Aunt Lois said itwas wrong to wish her back again, or to wish for anything that God tookaway. And so I ceased to wish for anybody, but learned to put on myclothes and tie my strings and button, and do what Aunt Lois told me. Ican wipe cups and saucers and make my bed and sweep my room and weed inthe garden, and sew, and spin a little, but I cannot make very eventhread yet. And to knit--I have knit a pair of stockings, Patty. AuntLois said those I brought were vanity. " "Stuff and nonsense! These Quakers would have the world go in hoddengray, and clumsy shoes and stockings. Let us see thine. Oh, ridiculous!We will give them to little Catty, the scrubwoman's child. Now I willput thee in something decent. " She began to disrobe her and bathed her shoulders and arms in somefragrant water. "Oh, how delightful! It smells like roses, " and she pressed the cloth toher face. "It is rose-water. What was in the garden at the Henrys'? Or iseverything wicked that does not grow to eat?" "The roses were saved to make something to put in cake. But the lavenderwas laid in the press and the drawers. It was very fragrant, but notlike the roses. " She combed out the child's hair until it fell in rings about her head. Then she put on some fine, pretty garments and a slip of pink silk, cutover from a petticoat of Madam Wetherill's. Her stockings were fine, cutover as well, and her low shoes had little heels and buckles. "Oh, " she cried with sudden gayety that still had a pathos in it, "itbrings back mamma and so many things! Were they packed away, Patty, likeone's best clothes? It is as if I could pull them out of a trunk wherethey had been shut up in the dark. And there were so many prettygarments, and a picture of father that I used to wear sometimes about myneck with a ribbon. " "Yes, yes; madam has a boxful, saving for you, unless you turn Quaker. But we shall keep a sharp eye on you that you do not fall in love withany of the broadbrims. But your father was one of the handsomest of hissect, and a gentleman. It was whispered that his trade made him fulllenient of many things, and your mother looked like a picture juststepped out of a frame. She had such an air that her dressing never madeher plain. I am afraid you will not be as handsome. Oh, fie! whatnonsense I am talking! I shall make thee as vain as a peacock!" Primrose laughed gayly. She felt happy and unafraid, as if she had beenreleased from bondage. And yet everything seemed so strange she hardlydared stir. Why, this was the way she felt at Aunt Lois' the first weekor two. There was a rustle in the little hall, and the child turned. "I declare, Patty, thou hast transformed our small Quaker, and improvedher beyond belief. She is not so bad when all's said and done!" "But all isn't done yet, madam. When she comes to be bleached, and herhair grown out, but la! it's just a cloud now, a little too rough forsilk, but we will soon mend that, and such a soft color. " "Canst thou courtesy, child? Let me see?" Primrose looked a little frightened and glanced from one to the other. "This way. " Patty held up a bit of the skirt of her gown, took a stepforward with one foot, and made a graceful inclination. "Now try. Surelyyou knew before you fell into the hands of that strait sect who considerrespectable manners a vanity. Try--now again. That does fairly well, mylady. " Primrose was so used to obeying that, although her face turned red, shewent through the evolution in a rather shy but not ungraceful manner. "Thou has done well with the frock, Patty, and it is becoming. My! butshe looks another child. Now I am going to lead thee downstairs and thoumust not be silly, nor frighted of folks. They knew thy dear mother. " Madame Wetherill took her by the hand and led her through another halland down a wide staircase to the main hall that ran through the house. Agreat rug lay in the front square, and on one side was a mahogany settlewith feather cushions in gay flowered chintz. Out on the porch was a girlish group laughing and jesting, sipping mead, and eating cake and confections. Little tables placed here and thereheld the refreshments. The sun was dropping down and the Schuylkillseemed a mass of molten crimson and gold commingled. The fresh wind blewup through the old-fashioned garden of sweet herbs and made the airabout fragrant. "This is my little grandniece, Primrose Henry, " she exclaimed, presenting the child. "Some of you have seen her mother, no doubt, whodied so sadly at Trenton of that miserable smallpox. " "Oh, and her father, too!" exclaimed Mrs. Pemberton, putting down herglass and coming forward. Primrose had made her courtesy and now half buried her face in MadameWetherill's voluminous brocade. "A fine man indeed was Philemon Henry, with the air of good descent, andthe manner of courts. And we always wondered if he would not have comeover to us if his sweetheart had stood firm. Girls do not realize alltheir power. But it was a happy marriage, what there was of it. Alas!that it should have ended so soon! But I think the child favors hermother. " "And it will not do to say all the sweet things we know about hermother, " laughed pretty Miss Chew. "Sweet diet is bad for infants andhad better be saved for their years of appreciation. You see we maynever reach discretion. " "Come hither, little maid, " said a persuasive voice. "I have two at homenot unlike thee, and shall be glad to bring them when Madam comes hometo Arch Street. Primrose! What an odd name, savoring of Englishgardens. " Some of the younger women pulled her hither and thither and kissed her, and one pinned a posy on her shoulder. Then Madam Wetherill led her downquite to the edge of the porch, where sat a rather thin, fretted-lookingwoman, gowned in the latest style, and a girl of ten, much morefurbelowed than was the custom of attiring children. "This is the child I was telling thee of, Bessy Wardour's little onethat she had to leave with such regrets. This is a relative of thymother's, Primrose, and this is Anabella. I hope you two children may befriends. " There was a certain curious suavity in Madam Wetherill's tone that wasnot quite like her every-day utterances. "A Wardour--yes; was there not something about her marriage----" "She became a Friend for love's sake, " laughed Madam Wetherill. "Othersstood ready to marry her, but she would have none of them--girls arewillful. " The lady rose with a high dignity. "It grows late, " she said, "and if you will keep your promise, dearaunt, I should like to be sent home, since it is not well for childrento be out in the evening dews. And I hope the little girls may indeed befriends. " "Yes, I will order the chaise. " Others had risen. Mrs. Pemberton and her daughter, and two or threemore, had been bidden to supper. Some of the ladies had come onhorseback, the ordinary mode of traveling. They clustered about MadamWetherill and praised her cake and said how glad they would be to gether in the city again. Then they pinned up their pretty skirts and puton their safeguard petticoats and were mounted by Cato and went off, nodding. The chaise took in two other ladies. The little girls had simply eyed each other curiously, but neither madeany advance, and parted formally. Then Patty came and took Primrose upstairs and gave her a supper ofbread and milk and a dish of cut peaches and cream. Afterward sheundressed her and put her in one of the cots, bidding her go to sleep atonce. She was needed elsewhere. But Primrose felt desperately, disobediently wide awake. It had beensuch an afternoon of adventure after six months of the quietest routinethat had made memory almost lethargic. The remembrances came troopingback--the long time it seemed to her when she had yearned and cried insecret for her mother, the two little girls that in some degreecomforted her, and then the half terror and loneliness on the farm untilshe had come to love the dumb animals and her Cousin Andrew. This wasall so different. A long, long while and then she must go back. Whatmade people so unlike? What made goodness and badness? And what was Godthat she stood dreadfully in awe of, who could see her while she couldnot see Him? Thus, swinging back and forth amid unanswerable questions, she fellasleep. CHAPTER IV. OF MANY THINGS. Madam Wetherill was much engrossed with visitors and overseeing the farmwork, ordering what of the produce was to be sold, what of the flax andthe wool sent away to be spun and woven, and the jars and boxes andbarrels set aside to be taken into the town later on. Patty was busysewing for the little girl and her mistress, and sometimes, when she wasbothered, she was apt to be rather sharp. At others she provedentertaining. Primrose learned to know her way about the great house and the gardenand orchard. Now she must go with a bonnet to protect her from the sunand linen gloves to keep her hands white, or to get them that color. Atnight she was anointed with cosmetics, and her hair was brushed andscented, but needed no help from curling tongs or pins. It was like a strange dream to her, and in the morning when she awokeshe wondered first if she had not overslept and missed the call of AuntLois; then she would laugh, remembering. She was a very cheerful, tractable child, and Madam Wetherill was much drawn to her. Sometimesshe went riding with her in the coach, which was a rather extravagantluxury in those days. And then they came into town and it was stranger still to the littlegirl. But now she began to be busy. There were some schools where boys and girls went together, but many ofthe best people had their daughters educated at home. It seemed quitedesirable that they should learn French, as it was useful to have alanguage servants could not understand. They began with Latin, as thatgave a better foundation for all else. Then there was enough ofarithmetic to keep household accounts and to compute interest. MadamWetherill had found her knowledge most useful, as she had a large estateto manage and had no such objections as many of the women of thatperiod. There was the spinet and singing of songs, dancing and doing fineneedlework. Anabella Morris was to come in for the accomplishments. Her mother professed to hold the weightier knowledge in slight esteem. "Anabella will no doubt have a husband to manage for her, " her mothersaid with a high sort of indifference. "Women make but a poor fist atmoney affairs. " "Indeed, Niece Mary, I do not see but what I have managed my affairs aswell as most men could have done them for me. And look at Hester Morris, left with a handsome patrimony by an easy husband, and now dependent onrelatives. I am glad there is talk of her second marriage. " "Mere talk, it may be. " With her nose in the air, Mary Morris was not alittle jealous that her almost penniless sister-in-law should capturethe prize she had been angling for. "Let us hope it will be something more. I hear Miss Morris hath promisedher a wedding gown, and I will add a brocade with a satin petticoat. Hester is a pleasant body, if not overdowered with wisdom. " Mrs. Mary Morris was not poor, though it needed much contriving to getalong on her income. She was very fond of play, one of the vices of thetime, and though she was often successful, at others she lost heavily. She was fond of being considered much richer than she really was, andkept her pinches to herself. One of her dreams had been the possibilityof being asked to stay at Wetherill House for the winter, at least, butthis had not happened. She was not as near a connection as Bessy Wardourhad been, but she made the most of the relationship, and there were nota great many near heirs; so all might reasonably count on havingsomething by and by. She had received a goodly supply of provisions from the farm, and theoffer had been made for Anabella to share Primrose Henry's teachers withno extra charge. "You are very generous to the child, " she said in a complaining tone. "Ithought Philemon Henry was in excellent circumstances. " "So he was. " "And is not her guardian, the other one, a well-to-do Quaker? Why mustyou be so regardful of her?" "Yes, she will have a nice sum, doubtless. I want her brought up to fither station, which the Henrys, being strict Friends, would not do. Hermother appointed me her guardian, you know. I do nothing beside my duty. But if you do not care----" "Oh, 'tis a real charity to offer it for Anabella, and I am glad toaccept. She is well trained, I suppose, so no harm can come of theassociation. " "Oh, no harm indeed, " returned the elder dryly. After the simplicity of life at the Henrys' there seemed such aconfusion of servants that Primrose was almost frightened. MistressJanice Kent kept them in order, and next to Madam Wetherill ruled thehouse. Patty was a seamstress, a little higher than the maid who madeher mistress ready for all occasions, looked after her clothes, did upher laces, and crimped her ruffles. But Patty wrote her invitations andanswered the ordinary notes; and she was appointed to look after andcare for Primrose, who was too old for a nurse and not old enough for amaid. Patty was a woman of some education, while Mistress Kent had been toFrance and Holland, and could both write and speak French. Patty'sadvantages had been rather limited, but she was quick and shrewd andmade the most of them, though the feeling between her and Janice Kentrather amused Madam Wetherill. Janice was always trying to "set her downin her proper place, " but what that was exactly it would have been hardto tell. Janice would not have had time to look after the child, andthis responsibility rather raised her. Then she had wonderful skill withcaps and gowns, and could imitate any imported garment, for even thenthose who could sent abroad for garments made up in the latest style, though it was London and not Paris style. Primrose kept her bed in Patty's room. There were plain little gowns forher daily wear, but white aprons instead of homespun ginghams. She cameto breakfast with Madam Wetherill when there were no guests, or only oneor two intimates. For the people of the town had much of the Southernways of hospitality, and when on their farms in summer often invitedtheir less fortunate friends. It was not always lack of money, but manyof the merchants in trade and commerce between the home ports had notime to spend upon country places, and were not averse to having theirwives and daughters enjoy some of the more trying summer weeks in thecooler suburban places. So Primrose sat like a mouse unless someone spoke to her, and it wasconsidered not best to take too much notice of children, as it made themforward. Then there were two hours devoted to studying, and sewing withPatty until dinner, which was often taken upstairs in the sewing room. Twice a week the tutor came for Latin and French, the former first; andthen Anabella came for French, and after that the little girls couldhave a play or a walk, or a ride with Madam Wetherill. Then there was adancing lesson twice a week, on alternate days, and a young woman cameto teach the spinet, which was a rather unusual thing, as women were notconsidered to know anything except housekeeping well enough to teach it. But this was one of Madam Wetherill's whims. For the girl's family hadbeen unfortunate, and the elder woman saw in this scheme a way to assistthem without offering charity. "Do you suppose the little girls I knew last winter will ever comeback?" she asked of Patty one day. "Oh, la, no!" was the reply. "Five years of school lies before them--notlike Master Dove's school, where one goes every morning, but a greatboarding house where they are housed and fed and study, and have onlyhalf of Saturday for a holiday. And they study from morning to night. " "It must be very hard, " sighed Primrose. "And why do they learn somuch?" "To be sure, that's the puzzle! And they say women don't need to know. They can't be lawyers nor doctors nor ministers, nor officers in case ofwar, nor hold offices. " "But they can be queens. There was Queen Elizabeth, and Queen Anne. Iread about them in a book downstairs one day. And if women can bequeens, why can't they be something else?" Patty looked down, nonplused for a moment. "I suppose it was because thekings died, and all the sons were dead, if they ever had any. Well--Idon't know why woman shouldn't be 'most anything; but she isn't, andthat's all about it. There's more than one man wanted to marry themadam, but she's wise not to take a spendthrift--or one of the Friends, who would be obstinate and set in his ways. She's good enough atbargaining, and she has a great tobacco plantation at Annapolis, and isas smart as any man. And she can beat half of them at piquet and ombreand win their money, too. " "What is piquet?" "Oh, Lord, child! I've always heard that little pitchers had big ears, and many a rill runs to the sea. Don't you carry things, now, nor askquestions. Little girls have no call to know such things. What were wetalking about when I made that slip? Oh, about those girls. They'll betrained in fine manners. The English ladies go to court and see the Kingand the Queen and the princesses, and have gay doings. " "Have we any court?" "Oh, dear, no! England governs us. But there's a good deal oftalk--there, child, get some sewing--hemstitching or something--anddon't talk so much. " She was silent quite a while. Then she said gravely: "I think I likedthe other girls better than I do Anabella. Is she my real cousin? Shesaid so yesterday. And once, just before I came here, Andrew said I hadno cousin but him. " "That's true enough. Andrew is a real cousin, your father's brother'sson. And your mother had no brothers or sisters. But it's a fashion tosay cousin. It sounds more respectful. Mistress Morris is a great one toscrape relationship with high-up folks. " Primrose suddenly wondered if anybody missed her at the farm. The littlechickens must have grown into quite large ones, and all the other thingsshe cared for so much. There was a sudden homesickness. She would liketo see them. But--yes, she _would_ rather be here. There were so manythings to learn. She didn't see any sense in the Latin, and she was sureit didn't make the French any easier. But the spinet---- "Patty, " she ventured timidly, "do you not think I ought to go at mynotes? I didn't play them very well yesterday, and the mistress rappedme over the knuckles. " She spread her small hand out on her knee and inspected it. "Yes. Dear me! you'll never get that kerchief done. But, then, runalong. There's no one downstairs. They are all invited to MistressPean's to take tea, and pick everybody to pieces. " "But they have no feathers, " said the little girl with a quaint smile, as she folded up her work and ran her needle through it. Then she put itin a large silken bag that hung on a nail, and remembered with ahalf-guilty conscience that there were some stockings to darn, and shealmost expected to hear Patty ask about them and call her back. Down over the wide steps she tripped. She was half minded to take aplunge amid the down cushions on the settle. She had sometimes turnedsomersaults in the grass when no one was by, being very careful not tolet Aunt Lois surprise her. She felt like that now, but she walked alongdecorously. The great company room was always a marvel to her. It heldso many wonderful things. There was, even then, a good deal of luxury for those who had the moneyto buy it. England did not care how much her colonists spent so that itpassed through her hands. She brought treasures from the far East--therewere only a very few ports allowed to the Americans. And here were Oriental rugs on the polished floor; furniture carved andpadded in brocade, tables with massive claw feet, and others in thinspindles that seemed hardly stout enough to hold up the top. There was agreat carved chimney-piece with some tiles let in, and some curiousiridescent bulbs not unlike the "bullseyes" over the wide hall door, butin different phases of light they gave out varied colors. There werequeer, beautiful, and grotesque ornaments, some ugly Chinese gods thathad been brought hither by sea captains, but if to convert the newcontinent, the scheme certainly would prove a failure. Primrose alwayslooked at them with a shudder, and instinctively thought of the Friends'meeting with the soft gray gowns and shawls with fine fringes, or insummer just a plain white kerchief crossed over the bosom. Then therewas a great blue-and-white Chinese pagoda, ornamented with numerousbells, every story growing smaller. It stood on a solid clawfoot table, and beside it, also in china, a mandarin with flowing sleeves and a longpigtail in dark-blue. There were curious chairs as well, and no end of square ottomans coveredwith brocade or tapestry, sadly faded now and some of the edges worn. Everywhere about were candlesticks and snuffers, for sometimes the roomwas brilliantly lighted. Adjoining this, with a wide doorway between, was a room not quite solong, but jutting out at the side. In a sort of alcove stood the spinet. There were also two corner buffets, as they were called. One of them haddrawers at the bottom, and the shelves above held various heirlooms, andquaint old silver, with the punch bowl over two hundred years old, bearing the Crown mark. The other contained a good many books, for the descendants of thecavaliers were not averse to something lighter than the "Book ofMartyrs. " An old brown leather-covered Shakspere, and some of hiscompeers, and Bacon, Lord Verulam, reposing peacefully on the shelfunderneath. Mr. Benjamin Franklin had given an impetus to knowledge andventured upon the writing of books himself. Primrose wandered among them now and then, not understanding, and havinga greater fondness for the versifying part than the prose. But she didpore over "Rasselas, " and an odd collection of adventures in Easternlands, very like the "Arabian Nights. " But now she went straight at her spinet. She was thrilled through andthrough with the sound of the notes, and often before she was aware herlittle fingers would wander off in some melody, recalling how a birdsang or how a streamlet rippled over the stones. Then she would stop inaffright and go carefully over her lesson. Anabella really succeeded better than she did. There was no singing birdin her brain that tempted her to stray. But sometimes the music masterwas quite angry with her, and said she "might as well be a boy drivingnails or facing stone. " But now she went over and over and would not be seduced by "wonderfulmelodies. " It was quite dark when Mistress Janice called her to supperin the tea room, with Patty. The two women had a great deal of sparring, it would seem. At the farm there was never any bickering. Once in awhile Uncle James scolded some of the laborers. Yet it seemed curious toPrimrose that they should talk so sharply to each other and the nextminute join in gay laughter. The very next day she had a visitor. Uncle James had been in once andhad a long talk with Madam Wetherill. After he had given her a somewhatserious scrutiny and asked a few questions she was dismissed. But AuntWetherill was out now and Andrew Henry asked for her. "Promise me you won't run off with him, " exclaimed Patty. "I must finishthis gown, as madam goes to Mrs. Chew's this afternoon, and all thesefurbelows have to be sewed on. Folks can't be content with a plain gownany more, but must have it laced and ruffled and bows stuck on it as ifit was Fair time!" "When is Fair time?" asked Primrose, as she was putting on a cleanpinafore. "How you take one up, child! There are fairs and fairs. They started inEngland, where all things do. For all we put on such mighty independentairs we do but follow like a flock of sheep. There, child, run and don'tstand gaping! And mind that you don't attempt to run off with friendBroadbrim. " She was glad to be clasped in the strong arms and have the hearty kisson her forehead. "It is like a different place without thee, " he exclaimed. "I cannotmake the days go fast enough until spring opens and thou come back withthe birds. We are such quiet folk. And here all is gayety. Wilt thouever be content again?" "Is gayety so very wrong, Andrew? It seems quite delightful to me, " shereturned wistfully. "And when the ladies move about in their prettygowns it is like great flocks of birds, or the meadows with lilies anddaisies and red clover-heads. Why do they have all the bright colors?" A hint of perplexity crossed her brow. "Surely I cannot tell. And the woods have been robed in scarlet andyellow, and such tints of red brown that one could study them by thehour. And the corn has turned a russet yellow and looks like the tentsof an army. Yes, there are divers colors in the world. " "And sometimes I have wished to be a butterfly. They were so beautiful, skimming along. God made them surely. " "Yes. But He put no soul in them. Perhaps that was to show His estimateof fine gear. " Primrose sighed. "They would make heaven more beautiful. And the singing birds! Oh, surely, Cousin Andrew, they must be saved. " "Nay, child, such talk is not seemly. What should a thing without a souldo in heaven where all is praise and worship?" "And the worship at Christ Church is very nice, with the singing ofpsalms and hymns and the people praying together. Why do we not sing, Andrew?" He hugged her closer. The soft "we" went to his heart. She had notidentified herself with these people of forms and ceremonies then, norquite accepted their "vain repetitions. " "Thou wilt understand better in the course of a few years. There is muchmummery in all of these things. They who worship God truly do it inspirit and in truth. But tell me what else thou art doing on week-days?" She told him of her studies. The Latin and French seemed quite uselessto him, although he knew it was taught at the Friends' school, and manyof the persuasion he knew did not disdain education. But his father wasquite as rigorous as the Church Catechism about the duties pertaining toone's station in life, and as his son was to be a farmer and inheritbroad acres, he cared for him to know nothing outside of his business. But the bits of history, of men and women, interested him very much. "I hear them talk sometimes, " she said. "And some of them do not want aking. Why is he not content to govern England and let us alone?" "I am not clear in my own mind about that, " he answered thoughtfully. "So many of us came over here to escape the rigors of a hard rule and toworship God as we chose. And methinks we ought to have the right to liveand do business as we choose. I should like to hear able men talk onboth sides. I heard some things in the market place this morning thatstartled me strangely. " "They will not have the tea, " she said tentatively. "It is queer, bitterstuff, so I do not wonder. " He laughed at that. "Yes, I heard we were like to be as famous as Boston. " "Patty knows about Boston, " she said. "She was a little girl there. Butshe doesn't like it very much. " Mistress Kent came in with some cake and a home brew of beer, and askedpolitely after Mrs. Henry. Then Andrew rose to go. "I cannot take thee just yet, " he said, twining the little fingers aboutone of his. "But the time will soon pass. And I shall be likely to comein on market day once in a while, if I do not make bad bargains!" with agrave sort of smile. "Then I shall see thee, and take home a goodaccount. " "Thou mayst indeed do that, " said Mistress Janice, with high dignity. "She learns many things in this great house. " He stooped and kissed her, and she somehow felt sorry to say good-by. "I suppose, " exclaimed his father that evening, "that the child has beentutored out of her simple ways, and is aping the great lady with finefeathers and all that!" "She is not much changed and plainly dressed, and seems not easily toforget her old life, asking about many things. " "My brother Philemon's intentions will be sorely thwarted. He was calledupon to give up his son, but I am not sure I should have done it forworldly gain. It was going back to the bondage we were glad to escape. And he had counted on other sons to uphold the faith. But the mother wasonly half-hearted, and the child will always be in peril. " Andrew Henry wondered a little about this question of faith. He hadheard strange talk in the market place to-day. The Puritans of Bostonhad persecuted and banished the Friends, and the Friends here couldhardly tolerate the royalist proclivities of the Episcopalians. If warshould come, would one have to choose between his country and hisfaith? CHAPTER V. A BOULEVERSEMENT. It was a winter of much perturbation. Grave questions were beingdiscussed--indeed, there had been overt acts of rebellion. And while theFriends counseled peace and preached largely non-resistance, those intrade found they were being sadly interfered with, and this led them tolook more closely into the matter and frequent some of the meetingswhere discussions were not always of the moderate sort. There had been a congress held at Smith's Tavern after Captain Ayres, with his ship _Polly_, had thought it wisdom to turn about upon reachingGloucester Point and hearing that the town had resolved he should notland his cargo of tea. Boston and New York had destroyed it, and hethought it wiser not to risk a loss. They went, afterward, to Carpenter's Hall, where the Reverend Mr. Duchémade a prayer and read the collect for the day. The discussion wasrather informal, if spirited, and the general disuse of English goodswas enjoined. A sentiment was given afterward: "May the sword of the parent never be stained with the blood of hischildren. " There were a number of Friends present at the table. One, who hadprotested vigorously against the possibilities of war, said heartily: "This is not a toast, but a prayer. Come, let us join it. " Christmas was kept with much jollity on the part of many who had no fearof the Scarlet Lady before their eyes, and whose affiliations withVirginia and Maryland were of the tenderer sort. There was greatmerrymaking at Madam Wetherill's, visitors having been invited for aweek's stay. And just at this time the widow Hester Morris marriedagain, and Anabella assumed a great deal of consequence. Wedding festivities lasted several days. Primrose, in a flowered silkengown, was permitted to go and have a taste of the bride cake, withstrict injunctions to refuse the wine. There were several children, andthey danced the minuet, to the great admiration of the grown people. There were some other pleasures as well. The creeks were frozen over andthere were fascinating slides, --long, slippery places like a sheet ofglass, --and the triumph was to slide the whole length and keep one'shead well up. You could spread your arms out like a windmill, only youmight come in contact with some other arms, and the great thing was topreserve a correct and elegant balance. Sometimes there were parties oflarge girls, and then the little ones had to retire elsewhere lest theymight get run over and have a bad fall. One of the pretty ways was to gather up one's skirt by an adroitmovement, and suddenly squat down and sail along like a ball. There wasa great art in going down, for you could lurch over so easily, and youwere almost sure to come down on your nose. Primrose and Bella went out together after the former learned her wayabout a little. And though Anabella seemed a rather precise body andeasily shocked over some things, she was quite fond of the boys, andoften timed their play hour so as to meet the boys coming home fromschool, and have a laughing chat with them. Primrose had a scarlet coat edged with fur and a hood to match. Shelooked very charming in it, and even a stranger could see the glances ofadmiration bestowed upon her. She was very shy with strangers, thoughshe did make friends with two or three girls. "You must be very careful, " declared the pretentious Bella. "I wouldn'ttake so much notice of that Hannah Lee. They are very common people. Herfather is a blacksmith and her mother was a servant before she wasmarried. And they are Quakers. " "So was my own father and my dear mother. " "But your mother wasn't really, you know, and she had all those EnglishWardour relations, and was well connected. But the Lees are very commonpeople, and poor. You see such people hang to you when you are grown up. My mother says one cannot be too careful. Then I think Aunt Wetherillwould not approve. " She did like the fresh, rosy, brown-eyed Hannah Lee, though her dress, from crown almost to toe, was drab, and somewhat faded at that. Her graybeaver hat was tied snugly under her chin, and her yarn stockings weregray. Her shoes had plain black buckles on them. But there were otherlittle gray birds as well, and some Quaker damsels were in cloth andfur. Primrose thought she would ask Aunt Wetherill. One morning she was up inthe sewing room and Patty was downstairs pressing out a gown that wasto be made over. "You look nice and rosy, little Primrose, " said the lady. "A run out ofdoors is a good thing for you. I saw a flock of children slidingyesterday, and I thought I knew the scarlet hood. It is more sensiblethan a hat. Did you like the fun?" "Oh, so much!" answered Primrose, her soft eyes shining like a summersky. "And I can keep up a good long while. But, when I go down, I dooften tip over. " "Thou wilt learn all these things. I am glad to have thee with thechildren, too. It is not good for little ones to live too much withgrown people and get their ways. " "I know some of the girls, " said Primrose. "I like Hannah Lee very much. She goes to Master Dove's school, but Bella said she was poor. " "Fie! fie! Children should put on no such airs! Bella hath altogethertoo many of them, and her mother is not an overwise woman! Let me hearno more about whether one is poor or rich. " Primrose was not at all hurt by the chiding tone. She was so glad thatshe might keep her friend with a clean conscience that she looked up andsmiled. "Thou art a wholesome little thing, and the training of the Friends hassome good points. Let me see--I think thou canst have a white beaverthis winter, and a cloak with swansdown. And I will give Bella one ofblue, so she shall not ape thee. I do not like one to copy the otherwhen one purse is long and the other short. " "Oh, a white beaver! That would be beautiful!" and the eager eyes werealight more with pleasure than vanity. "She is like her mother, " Madam Wetherill thought. Primrose was reallyhappy not to give up Hannah Lee. They could find so many subjects ofinterchange--what the children were doing at Master Dove's school, andthe plays they had. The snowballing, although as yet there had been onlyone snow, had been almost a battle between two parties of boys. "But Master Dove said no one should dip the balls in water and then letthem freeze, or he would get birched soundly. The soft ones are morefun, methinks; they often go to pieces in a shower. My brothers and Isnowball after the night work is done. We can keep no servant, so we allhave to help. " That was being poor, Primrose supposed. Yet Hannah seemed a great dealkinder and merrier than Bella, and never said sharp things, or washaughty to a playmate. What Primrose had to tell seemed like wonderland to the little girlwhose only story was "Pilgrim's Progress"--the great house, with rugsand silken curtains, the Chinese mandarin and the pagoda, the realpictures that had come from England, and a beautiful, full-lengthportrait of her own mother, the books in the library, and the gaycompanies, the silver and fine dishes, and all the servants. Not that Primrose boasted. She was very free from such a fault. It wasnot hers, either, and she had no sense of possession. She spoke of herlife at her uncle's as well, of the quiet at the farm, of the sewing andspinning. "I shall learn to spin another year, " said Hannah with interest. "I likethe merry, buzzing sound. And when I am tall enough for the big wheel Ishall enjoy running to and fro. I have an uncle at Germantown whoweaves. Mother lets us visit him now and then, and I delight in that. " Hannah had so many aunts and cousins that the little girl quite enviedher. Bella Morris had a great deal to say about her newly married aunt, who, after all, was no real relation, but her father's sister-in-law. She hadmarried a Mr. Mathews, a well-to-do widower with two growing-up sons whowere among the mischievous lads of the day, for even then signs werereversed and gates carried off and front stoops barricaded; even windowswere broken in sport, the sport seeming to be chiefly in the adroitnesswith which one could parry suspicion. They had a house on Spruce Street, set in the midst of a considerable garden, while not a few respectablebusiness men lived over their stores and offices. Polly Morris reallygrudged her sister-in-law the good fortune, for Hester had been leftmuch worse off than she, but Hester had no incumbrances, and wasyounger. In January another congress met, and there was a warm discussion abouthome manufactures. Underneath was a seething mass ready to bubble overat another turn of the screws. England had utterly refused to listen tothe colonists or accede to their wishes. Franklin returned homeheavy-hearted indeed, and though he counseled prudence and moderation, and could not believe there would be what he foresaw, if it came to anopen issue, would prove a long and bitter struggle. But the gun wasfired at Lexington, and the State of Massachusetts stood forth anundisguised rebel. One market day Andrew came in again. Primrose had wondered at his longabsence. There had been many things to disturb the serenity of thepeaceful farmhouse. A sister of Aunt Lois' who had cared for the motherduring years of widowhood was taken down, and died after a shortillness. The mother, old and feeble, and wandering in her mind, neededconstant care. There were three children also, a lad of sixteen and twoyounger girls, one of whom was devoted to the poor old grandmother. There was nothing to do but to offer them a home, James Henry felt, forLois would want to make her mother's declining years as comfortable aspossible. They were not penniless, but the income was small, and thefarm in debt, so it was judged best to sell it and invest the money forthe children. Penn Morgan was a stout young fellow and would be of muchassistance to Uncle James, while he was learning to do for himself. Rachel, at fourteen, was very womanly, and little Faith was ten. All this had happened during March. James Henry paid little attention tooutside matters. He was prosperous enough under the King's rule, hethought, and he was not a man to take up the larger questions. "We can hardly have thy brother's child here this season, " Lois Henrysaid to her husband one evening as she sat in her straight-backed chair, too tired even to knit when the cares of the day were over, and thepoor, half-demented mother safely asleep. He looked up in anger. "Not have her here?" he repeated vaguely. "There is so much more care for me. Rachel is a great help and acomforting maiden. I never thought anyone could come so near to theplace of the lost ones, the daughters I had hoped would care for my oldage. Faith is gentle and tractable, but two children so nearly of anage, yet with such a different training, would lead to no end ofargument and do each other no good. I dare say Madam Wetherill has usedher best efforts to uproot our ways and methods. " "That would be a small and unjust thing, remembering her father'sfaith. " There was something not quite a smile crossed Lois' face, so tired nowthat a few of the placid lines had lost their sweetness. "Yet it was what we did, James. " Lois had a great sense of fair-dealingand truth-telling. So far she had had no bargains to make with theworld, nor temptations to get the better of anyone. "We thought it ourduty to instruct her in her father's faith and keep her from thefrivolities that were a snare to her mother. I dare say Madam Wetherilllooks at the reverse side for her duty. They go to Christ Church, Andrewsaid, and though christening signifieth nothing to us, she may impressthe child with a sense of its importance. Then the Wetherill House hasbeen very gay this winter. Friend Lane said there was gaming andfestivities going on every night, and that it was a meeting place fordisaffected minds. " "But Madam Wetherill is a fine royalist. Still there are many ungodlythings and temptations there, and this is why I requested Andrew not togo there on market days. He was roused in a way I could not approve andtalked of the books in the house. Indiscreet reading is surely a snare. I am not at all sure the ever-wise Franklin, while no doubt he hath muchgood sense and counseleth patience and peace, hath done a wise thing inadvocating a public library where may be found all kinds of heresy. Yetit is true that James Logan was learned in foreign tongues and gave tothe town his collection. It was better while they were kept in thefamily, but now they have been taken to Carpenter's Hall, and some otherbooks added, I hear, and it is a sort of lounging place where the youngmay imbibe dangerous doctrines. I am glad Penn is such a sensiblefellow, though Andrew hath been obedient, but he will soon be of age. " "The child has been subject to little restraint then, if she is allowedto read everything. And it would be better for Faith not to have thecompanionship. Then I do not feel able to undertake the training out ofthese ideas, as I should feel it my duty to do. " James Henry gave a sigh. He could recall his brother's anxiety that thechild should not stray from the faith of the Friends. "I will go in next week myself and have an interview with MadamWetherill and see the child. I shall be better able to decide what is myduty. " Then they lapsed into silent meditation. If the prayers, since they areonly fervent desires, could have been uttered aloud, they would havebeen found quite at variance. Providence, which is supposed to have a hand in these matters, wascertainly on Lois Henry's side, though she never took comfort in thefact; indeed, accepted the accident with the sweet patience of her sectand never disturbed her mind studying why it should have been sent atthis particular time. For James Henry had a fall from the upper floor ofhis barn and broke his hip, which meant a long siege in bed at thebusiest season. Penn Morgan, a nice, strong fellow, was a great comfort. He had managedhis mother's smaller farm and was not afraid of work. There was yet considerable farm produce, and much demand for the nicerqualities. Andrew was instructed to call at Arch Street and request avisit from Madam Wetherill. The news had not yet come of the great battle at Lexington, but all wasstir and ferment and activity. For six weeks Andrew had not seen thetown. Now on nearly every corner was a group in eager discussion. Therehad been Patrick Henry's incendiary speech, there was Mr. Adams fromMassachusetts, and Benjamin Franklin, so lately returned from England, and many another one from whom the world was to hear before the struggleended. Madam Wetherill was out, but would surely be in at dinner time, andthough society functions were sometimes as late as two, the ordinarydinner was in the middle of the day. He would have almost an hour towait, but he had sold very rapidly this morning and made good bargains. "It is thy cousin, " said Mistress Kent. "I have no time to spare, and ifthou art not needed at lessons----" "Oh, let me go to him!" cried Primrose, her face alight with joyouseagerness. "It is so long since I have seen him. I can study thisafternoon, as there are no more dancing lessons. " "Well, run along, child. Don't be too forward in thy behavior. " Patty had gone out with her mistress to do a little trading, since shewas excellent authority and had many gossiping friends who were muchinterested in the latest fashions. And now, in the disturbed state ofimports, it would not be so easy to have orders filled abroad. Primrose danced down the stairs and through the hall. "Oh, Andrew!" shecried, as she was clasped in the fond arms. Then he held her off a bit. No, Faith could not compare with her. YetFaith had blue eyes, a fair skin, and light hair, straight and ratherstringy and cut short in her neck. But these eyes were like a glint ofheaven on a most radiant day, these curving red lips were full of smilesand sweetness, and this lovely hair, this becoming and gracefulattire---- "Oh, why do you sigh!" in a pretty, imperious fashion. "Are you not gladto see me? I thought you had forgotten me. It is such a long, longwhile. " "Did I sigh? I was surprised. Thou art like a sweet, blossomy rose withthe morning dew upon it. " "Prim Rose. " She drew her face down a little, drooped her eyes, and lether arms hang at her side in a demure fashion, and though Andrew'svocabulary had few descriptive adjectives in it, he felt she wasdistractingly pretty. He wanted to kiss her again and again, butrefrained with Quaker self-restraint. She laughed softly. "Madam Shippen was here one day with big Miss Peggy, who can laugh and be gay like any little girl, and who is so pretty--notlike my dear mother in the frame, but--oh, I can't find a word, and I amlearning so many new ones, too. But one would just like to kneel at herfeet, and draw a long breath. And she took hold of my hands and weskipped about in the hall with the new step Master Bagett taught me. AndMadam Shippen said I was 'most like a rose, and that if I became aFriend I should be called Prim alone, since the name would be suitable. And Madam Wetherill said I was divided, like my name. When will it betime to go to the farm?" "Would it be a great disappointment if thou didst not go?" he askedgravely. "What has happened, cousin?" Her sweet face took instant alarm. The smiles shaped themselves to asudden unspoken sympathy. "A great many things have happened. " He would have liked to draw herdown to his knee as he had seen Penn hold his sister Faith and comforther for the loss of their mother. But Primrose did not need comforting. He kept his arm about her and drew her nearer to him. "Yes, a great many things. Mother's sister, Aunt Rachel Morgan, died inMarch, and grandmother and the three children have come to live with us. Grandmother is old and has mostly lost her mind. Penn is a large fellowof his age, almost grown up, and is of great service. Rachel is fourteenand is wise in the management of grandmother, who cannot tell one fromanother and thinks my mother the elder Rachel who died. And then thereis little Faith. " "Faith? What is she like? Would you rather have her than--than me? Doyou love her most?" A sudden jealousy flamed up in the child's heart. Since her mother hadgone she had really loved no one until she had met Andrew. Perhaps itwas largely due to the fact that he was the only sympathetic one in alonely life. Andrew laughed, stirred by a sweet joy. "I would a dozen times rather have thee, but Faith is nice and obedientand my mother has grown fond of her. But there is something about thee, Primrose--canst thou remember how the chickens followed thee, and thebirds and the squirrels never seemed afraid? Thou didst talk to therobins as if thou didst understand their song. And the beady-eyedsquirrels--how they would stop and listen. " "I made a robin's song on the spinet quite by myself, one afternoon. Andthe dainty Phoebe bird, and the wren with her few small notes. Do youknow, I think the wren a Quaker bird, only her gown is not quite grayenough. We went out to great-aunt's farm one day, and oh, the birds!Some had on such dazzling plumage and flew so swiftly. We went to thewoods and found trailing arbutus, that is so sweet, and hepatica, andoh! many another thing. I can't recall half the names. There was a tall, grave gentleman who talked much about them and said they were families. Are the little birds the babies, and are there cousins and aunts andgrandmothers all faded and shriveled up? And can they talk to each otherwith those little nods and swinging back and forth?" "Thou art a strange child, Primrose, " and he smiled. "What were wetalking of? Oh, the coming of the children. And then father hath had abad fall and has to be kept in bed for weeks. So we seem full oftrouble. " "Oh, I am so sorry, Andrew!" Her head was up by his shoulder and sheleaned over and kissed him, and then he held her in a very close embraceand felt in some mysterious way that she belonged to him, rather than tohis father or to her grand aunt. "And you will hardly want me, " with a slow half question answeringitself. "That is one of my errands. Father desires to see Madam Wetherill. Hedid not say--he wishes to follow out my uncle's will concerning you. " Then he looked her all over. Her eyes were cast down on the polishedfloor that had lately come in. Many people had them sanded; indeed, thelarge dining room here was freshly sanded every morning and drawn inwaves and diamonds and figures of various sorts. The Friends used thesand, but condemned the figures as savoring of the world. As Primrose stood there she was grace itself. Her head was full of loosecurls that glinted of silver in the high lights and a touch of gold inthe shade, deepening to a soft brown. Her skin was fine and clear, herbrows and the long lashes were quite dark, the latter just tipped withgold that often gave the eyes a dazzling appearance. Her ear was like abit of pinkish shell or a half crumpled rose leaf. And where her chinmelted into her neck, and the neck sloped to the shoulder, there wereexquisite lines. After the fashion of the day her bodice was cut square, and the sleeves had a puff at the shoulder and a pretty bow that haddone duty in various places before. He did not understand that it wasbeauty that moved him so, for he had always been deeply sympathetic overthe loss of her parents. She was not studying the floor, or thinking whether she looked winsomeor no, though Bella Morris would have done for an instructor on posesalready, and was often saying, "Primrose, you must stand that way andturn your face so, and look as if you were listening to something, " or"Bend your head a little. " "But I'm not listening, and I can't have my head bent over, it tires myneck, " she would reply with a kind of gay decision. She was wondering whether she wanted to go out to the farm or not. Wouldshe be allowed to take her books along, or must she go on with thespinning and sewing? And she did love her pretty gowns and the ribbons, and the silver buckles on her shoes, and several times she had worn thegold beads that her mother had left behind for her. And there was thespinet, with its mysterious music, the drives about, and she waslearning to ride on a pillion; and Patty knew so many stories abouteverything, merry and sad and awesome, for her grandmother's sister hadbeen thrust into prison at Salem for being a witch. And Patty also knewsome fairy stories, chief among them a version of "Cinderella, " and thatfascinating "Little Red Riding Hood. " "I think I shall want thee always, " he began, breaking the silence. "Ihave missed thee so much, and counted on thy coming back to us. But youmight find it dull after all the pleasure and diversion. There would beFaith----" "Should I like her?" "That I cannot tell, " and he smiled gravely. She did not altogether like Bella, but she did not want to say so. Itwas queer, but she was learning that you could not like everybody toorder. There was something about kind, gentle Aunt Lois that held one ata distance, and she was always afraid of her Uncle James. "Do you like her very much?" with a lingering intonation. "We are commanded to love everyone, chiefly those of the household offaith. " "Cousin Andrew, " very seriously, "I go to Christ Church now. I like thesinging. And it says--in the Scriptures, I think--'Let everything thathath breath praise the Lord!'" "One can praise in the heart. " "How should another know it? One might be thinking very naughty thingsin the heart, and keep silence. " "But the naughty and evil heart would not be likely to do good works. " Primrose was silent. The spiritual part of theology was quite beyondher. Then there was a clang at the knocker and the small black boy in abright turban went to answer. CHAPTER VI. TO THE RESCUE. Primrose was dismissed, though she saw her Cousin Andrew again atdinner. Madam Wetherill had quite settled the question. She was goingout to her own country estate, and Primrose would have a change of airand much more liberty, and under the circumstances it was altogetherbetter that she should not go to her uncle's, and Madam Wetherillconsidered the matter as settled, though she promised to come out thenext day. The dream of William Penn had been a fair, roomy city, with houses setin gardens of greenery. There were to be straight, long streets reachingout to the suburbs and the one to front the river was to have a greatpublic thoroughfare along the bank. Red pines grew abundantly, and manyanother noble tree was left standing wherever it could be allowed, andnew ones planted. Broad Street cut the city in two from north to south, High Street divided it in the opposite direction. But even now "The greene country towne" was showing changes. To be surethe house in Letitia Court was still standing and the slate-roof houseinto which Mr. Penn moved later on. But market houses came in HighStreet, the green river banks were needed for commerce, and littlehamlets were growing up on the outskirts. There were neighborly rows ofhouses that had wide porches where the heads of families received theirneighbors, the men discussing the state of the country or their ownbusiness, the women comparing household perplexities, complaining ofservants, who, when too refractory, were sent to the jail to be whipped, and the complaints or the praises of apprentices who boarded in theirmaster's houses, or rather, were given their board and a moderate yearlystipend to purchase clothes, where they were not made at home. Youngpeople strolled up and down under the great trees of elm and sycamore, or lingered under the drooping willows where sharp eyes could not followthem so closely, and many a demure maiden tried her hand on her father'sfavorite apprentice, meaning to aim higher later on unless he had someunusual success. Up to this time there had been a reign of quiet prosperity. The oldSwedes had brought in their own faith; the church, so small at first asto be almost unnoticed, was winning its way. And though Whitfield hadpreached the terrors of the law, religious life was more tolerant. Natural aspects were more conciliatory. The Friends were peace-lovingand not easily roused from placid methods of money-getting. There wasnothing of the Puritan environment or the strenuous conscience thatkeeps up fanatics and martyrs. Witchcraft could not prosper here, therebeing only one trial on record, and that easily dismissed. The mantle ofcharity and peace still hovered over the place, and prosperity hadbrought about easy habits. Perhaps, too, the luxuriant growth andabundance of everything assisted. Nature smiled, springs were early, autumns full of tender glory. And though the city was not crowded, according to modern terms, therewere many who migrated up the Schuylkill every summer, who ownedhandsome farms and wide-spreading country houses. Chestnut Hill andMount Airy, Stenton and the Chew House at Germantown, were the scene ofmany a summer festivity where Friends and world's people mingled insocial enjoyment; pretty Quakeresses practiced the fine art of pleasingand making the most of demure ways and eyes that could be so seductivelydowncast, phraseology that admitted of more intimacy when prefaced bythe term "Friend, " or lingered in dulcet tones over the "thee and thou. " Madam Wetherill always made a summer flitting to her fine and profitablefarm, and surrounded herself with guests. She was very fond of companyand asked people of different minds, having a great liking for argument, though it was difficult to find just where she stood on many subjects, except the Church and her decided objection to many of the tenets of theFriends, though she counted several of her most intimate acquaintancesamong them. She had a certain graceful suavity and took no delight inoffending anyone. But she was moved to the heart by Lois Henry's misfortunes. The oldmother sat under a great walnut tree on a high-backed bench, with someknitting in her hand, in which she merely run the needles in and out andwound the yarn around any fashion, while she babbled softly or asked aquestion and forgot it as soon as asked. Rather spare in figure and muchwrinkled in face, she still had a placid look and smiled with ameaningless softness as anyone drew near. For a moment Madam Wetherill thought of William Penn, whom her fatherhad visited at Ruscombe in those last years of a useful life whendreams were his only reality, still gentle and serene, and fond ofchildren. Faith was sitting at her knee and answering her aimless talk, and Rachel had her spinning wheel on the porch. Madam Wetherill alighted from her horse, and Rachel came out to her. Shesometimes took her servant, but she was a fearless and capable rider. "I will call my aunt, " the young woman said with a courtesy of respectsuch as girls gave to elders. "Tell her it is Madam Wetherill. Nay, I will sit here, " as the girlinvited her within; and she took the porch bench. Lois Henry showed her added cares in the thinness of her face andcertain drawn lines about the mouth, but it had not lost its gravesweetness. "I hear you are full of trouble, " began Madam Wetherill in her well-bredtones. What with education on the one side, and equable temperament onthe other, perhaps too, the softness of the climate and the easier modesof life, voices and manners both had a refinement for which they areseldom given credit. The intercourse between England and the colonieshad been more frequent and kindly, though the dawning love of libertywas quite as strong as in the Eastern settlements. "Yes, there is heaviness and burthens laid upon me, but if we are gladto receive good at the hands of the Lord we must not murmur againstevil. The spring is a bad time for the head of the house to be laidaside. " "And you have added family cares. I have come to see if you are willingto be relieved in some measure. Everyone counts at such a time, while ina family like ours, with the going and coming, one more never adds tothe work. " "I should be quite willing if we could be assured it was our duty toshift burthens in times of trouble. James is somewhat disquieted aboutthe child. Will you come in and talk with him?" The bed had been brought out to the best room, as it was so much largerthan the sleeping chamber adjoining it. James Henry lay stretched upon apallet, his ruddy face somewhat paler than its wont. "I am pleased to see thee, " he said gravely. "And I am sorry for thy misfortune. " The use of the pronoun "thou" had its old English manner and was notconfined to the Friends alone. The more rigid, who sought to despise allthings that savored of worldliness, used their objective in season andout. And among the younger of the citified Friends, "you" was notinfrequently heard. "It is the Lord's will. We are not allowed our choice of times. Though Imust say I have been prospered heretofore, and give thanks for it. Ihear there are other troubles abroad and that those pestilent Puritans, who were never able to live in peace for any length of time, haverebelled against the King. I am sorry it hath come to open blows. Butthey will soon have the punishment they deserve. We are enjoined to liveat peace with all men. " "The news is extremely meager. There is a great ferment, " MadamWetherill replied suavely. "And in town they are holding congresses! The Lord direct them in theright way. But we have many rebels among us, I think. This was to be atown of peace. William Penn conciliated his enemies and had no use forthe sword. " "True--true! We shall need much wisdom. But I must not weary theetalking of uncertainties. There is another matter that concerns us both, our little ward. As affairs stand I think she had better remain with methrough the summer. She will be on a farm and have plenty of air andtake up some of the arts of country life. She is in good health and is, I think, a very easily governed child. " "It is not following out her father's wishes. He hoped she would be ofhis faith. And the influence here might serve to counteract somefollies. I would rather she came. But Lois is heavily weighted and twochildren of the same age----" "Primrose would have many strange things for her little cousin's ears. Nay, they are hardly cousins. " And Madam Wetherill smiled. A keenobserver might have observed a touch of disdain. "Except as to faith. She would be forbidden to talk over her worldlylife. We discountenanced it before. It is a sad thing that a childshould be so torn and distracted before she can hardly know good orevil. I do not think my brother meant this course should be followed. " "Yet he could not deprive the mother of her child. And he gave away hisson for worldly advancement. It was merely that Mistress Henry and herchild should live here half the year. The court decided she couldtransfer her rights to another guardian, and I was nearest of kin. And Ishall have to seek heirs somewhere. But one summer cannot matter much, and it will be a relief to thy overtired wife. " James Henry started to raise himself on his elbow and then rememberedthat he was bandaged and strapped, and was but a helpless log. Twomonths, the doctor had said, even if all went well, before he couldmake any exertion. He glanced at his wife. He must be waited on hand andfoot, and now the child had been filled with worldliness and would needstrong governing. Andrew was overindulgent to her. "It hath caused me much thought. This time we might make it a year forgood reasons. Mr. Northfield would no doubt consent. Then she would comein the fall and remain. " "Nay, I will not promise that. Her winters in town are important foreducation. It was for that partly that I preferred the winters. She hathno farm to go to afterward and will lead a town life. " "But so much worldly education does not befit a woman or improve her. " "Yet we must admit that the earlier Friends were men of sound education. They read Greek and Latin, and now at the Friends' school there are manyhigh branches pursued. And it is becoming a question whether spellingcorrectly, and being able to write a letter and cast up accounts, willharm any woman. Widows often have a sorry time when they know nothing ofaffairs, and become the prey of designing people. I have had largematters to manage and should have had a troublesome time had I beenignorant. " James Henry sighed. He had wished before that this woman had not beenquite so shrewd. And though he was a stanch Friend and would havesuffered persecution for the cause, wealth had a curious charm for him, and he was not quite certain it would be right to deprive Primrose Henryof any chance. She had seemed easily influenced last year. If Faithcould gain some ascendency over her! But Faith was more likely to beswayed than to sway, he was afraid. "Then let the case stand this way, " said Madam Wetherill. "After a monthor so matters may be improved with you, and she can come then, being amonth or two later in town. " "Yes, that may do, " he answered reluctantly, but he did long for a wholeyear in which to influence his brother's child. For surely she was bornin the faith. He would not have gone outside for a convert; the Friendswere not given to the making of proselytes. Everyone must be convincedof his own conscience. "Then we will agree upon this for the present. Thou hast my warmestsympathy, and I shall be glad to hear of thy improvement. I hope FriendLois will not get quite worn out. Good-day to thee. If there is anythinga friend can do, command me at once. " "My own patience is the greatest requisite, " said the master of thehouse, while Lois raised her eyes with a certain grateful light. She paused a moment for a word with Rachel, a nice, wholesome-lookinggirl with the freshness of youth, and who responded quietly but made noeffort for conversation. Faith was still chatting with the grandmother. Madam Wetherill stepped on the block and mounted her horse as deftly asa young person might. "The youth Andrew is not so straitlaced, " she ruminated. "And he seemedmuch interested in the talk of war. If it comes to that, what will theQuakers do, I wonder? They can hardly go among the Indians to escape thestrife, and if home and country is worth anything they ought to taketheir share in defending it. As Mr. Adams says, it would come sooner orlater. The colonists are of English blood and cannot stand so muchoppression. It is queer they cannot think of us as their own children. And we of the more southern lands have felt tenderly toward the mothercountry, especially we of the church. " Philadelphia believed herself on the eve of great changes, as well asBoston. Virginia had her heroes that felt quite as keenly the injusticeof the mother country. Patrick Henry had fired many hearts with hispatriotic eloquence. When Governor Dunmore had seized a quantity ofgunpowder belonging to the colonies and had it shipped on board a man ofwar, Henry went at the head of a party of armed citizens and demandedrestitution, which was made with much show of ill feeling. Not longafter the exasperated people had driven the Governor from his house, shorn him of power, and compelled him to seek safety. In North Carolinathere had been a declaration of independence read aloud to a conventionat Charlotte. "An appeal to arms and to the God of Hosts, is all that isleft us, " said Patrick Henry. And Joseph Hawley said, "We must fight. " The battle of Lexington was the match that started the blaze. The othercolonies were ready. Philadelphia prepared herself for the struggle. Atanother meeting it was resolved, "That the United Colonies are of rightor ought to be free and independent states, and that they are absolvedfrom all duties to the British crown. " Jefferson wrote this declaration, submitting it to Franklin and JohnAdams, and many discussions followed before it was adopted. And theContinental Congress had been much encouraged by the enthusiasm ofVirginia. Washington had said publicly, "I will raise a thousand men, subsist them at my own expense, and march with them, at their head, forthe relief of Boston. " Mrs. Washington had not been less patriotic, though her love of peacefuldomestic affairs was well known. To a friend she had written, "Yes, Iforesee serious consequences, dark days and darker nights, domestichappiness suspended, social enjoyments abandoned, property of every kindput in jeopardy by war, neighbors and friends at variance, and eternalseparations possible. " There had come news of the seizure of fortresses at Ticonderoga andCrown Point. Ammunition, stores, and fifty pieces of cannon had beentaken. General Gage had announced his intentions of sending "those archoffenders Samuel Adams and John Hancock" to England to be hanged. Thelatter brave rebel had laughed the threat to scorn. But the Declarationwas considered a bold step. There was a gathering of friends at Madam Wetherill's that very evening, for it was known that she would soon be out on the farm, and since shehad much at stake in trade and property, many were curious to see whichside she would really espouse. "The idea of a horde of common people running a government with no headbut their own wills is preposterous!" cried the proud old Tory RalphJeffries, as he settled his wig with a shake of the head and pulled outhis lace ruffles. "Are these canting Puritans going to rule us withtheir quarrels?" "The whole country seems pretty well ablaze. It is like a Latimer andRidley fire, " was the retort. "We will put it out, sir! We will put it out! Where would be the dignityor security of any such government? A pack of braggarts over a littleskirmish. King George is good enough for us. " "Then you may have to emigrate again presently, " suggested portly JohnLogan. "The storm has been long gathering. Little by little we have seenour rights abridged, while we have been growing up to the full size ofmanhood. We have tried our wit and ability. To-day we could enter thelists of trade with foreign nations, but our ports have been closed. England dictates how much and how little we shall do. We are not anation of slaves, but brethren with them over the seas. We are not to bekept in the swaddling clothes of infancy. "It hath been a sorry hardship not to trade where we will when thecountry groweth steadily. It is a great and wonderful land and needethonly wise rulers to make it the garden of the world. But the taxes aregrievous, and no one knows where this will end. I am a man of peace asthou all knowest, but when the iron is at white heat and has been struckone blow it is best to keep on. " "And you believe, " returned Jeffries scornfully, "that a handful of mencan conquer the flower of Britain? How many, think you, will come to thefore if there is a call to arms? A few of these noisy brawlers likeHenry and Jefferson and Adams, and those pestilent Puritans who havebeen ever stirring up strife, and a few foolish men easily turned withevery wind that blows. Good Lord, what an army to cope with trainedmen!" "These same brawlers have done England some good service against theFrench. They have fighting blood, and when it is roused on the side ofright will be a match for the redcoats at Champlain. " Some of the women were gathered in the hall where there was tea andcakes, or mead if one liked better. "But, if there is war, we shall not be able to get anything, " said vainand pretty Madam Jeffries, who was a second wife, and strong of will asher husband seemed, twisted him around her finger. "And I have just sentabroad for finery. " "We must come to linsey-woolsey, though the weavers of Germantown makefine goods, and there is silk already made in our own town. Instead ofso much gossiping and sitting with idle hands we must make our ownlaces. It is taught largely, I hear, at Boston, and my mother was anexpert at it. Then there are fringes and loops--and, oh, I think weshall manage. " "But will there really be war?--Madam Wetherill, it will begin in theroom there, " laughing and nodding her head. "They will come to blowssoon. And Hugh Mifflin, methinks, has forgotten his Quaker blood. Howwell he talks! And hear--he quotes from the Farmers' letters. I thoughtthe Friends were resolved not to bear arms. " "Do they always turn the other cheek to the smiter?" asked someone, anda laugh followed. In the upper hall Primrose stood by the end window, listening andwondering. Patty found her there, large-eyed. "What will there be war about?" she asked. "And will they come here andtake us all prisoners?" "Nonsense, child! This is no talk for thee. Come to bed at once. " "Patty, did you hear my great-aunt say if I was to go out to the farm?What if they make Cousin Andrew fight? I should be so sorry. " "Quakers do not fight. " "But brave men do. I have read about them. And I am sure Andrew isbrave. " "Do not be sure of any man. Thou wilt get a sight of wisdom between thisand twenty years. And I believe thou art not to go out to Cherry Hill. There is too much illness. And we are to move to our own farm. " "And will there be chickens and birds and squirrels, and little lambsplaying about, and----" "Do not string any more things together with an 'and, ' like beads on achain, but get to bed. Yes, they seem to be having a fine noisy timedownstairs. I know on which side the madam will be. " "For the King?" "Not strongly, I think, " with an ironical laugh Primrose did notunderstand. "And you, Patty?" "The King would have poor luck if he depended on me to fight for him. There, good-night, and good sleep. " CHAPTER VII. AT SOME CROSSROADS. There was much confusion in the old house, putting fine things andornaments away and packing family heirlooms and silver. There was alsomuch going to and fro, and after a few days Primrose, with herattendant, Patty, went out to the farm, then in all its beauty ofgreenness, though the fruit blooms were over. But there were countlessroses and garden flowers of all the old-fashioned sorts, and sweet herbsand herbs for all kinds of medicinal brews. For though Dr. Shippen andDr. Rush had begun to protest against "old women's doses, " many stillhad faith in them and kept to feverfew and dittany and golden rod andvarious other simples, and made cough balsams and salves. The house was large and plain, with uncarpeted floors that were moppedup in the morning for coolness and cleanliness, quite a Virginianfashion. The kitchen and dining room were sanded, the chairs were plainsplint or rather coarse rush or willow. There were a wide wooden settleand some curious old chests used for seats, as well as hiding places forcommoner things. But it was the garden that attracted Primrose. She had never seen somany flowers nor such lovely ones, for in the woods there was not thisvariety. Life had been too busy, and wants too pressing, to indulge inmuch luxury where gardening was concerned. John Bartram had manyremarkable trees and plants, but they were things of families andpedigrees, and his house was the resort of curious and scientific men. Although a Friend, he had a tender heart for beauty, as well as manyother things. But in general the Friends cultivated simple and usefulherbs. At the Henry farm there was no pretense of a flower garden. Primrose ran up and down the wide, smooth walk, made of dirt and smallstones with much labor, where, through the summer at least, not a tuftof grass was permitted to grow. How lovely it was! The house stood onquite an elevation. One could see Mount Airy and Clieveden and othersummer homes, and the Schuylkill winding placidly about, peeping throughits embowered banks here and there. But the quiet, romantic stream was to witness many a tragedy and many anact of heroism that no one dreamed of that summer. The real alarms ofwar scarcely penetrated it. Young people went sailing and rowing and hadpicnics and teas along its banks, and the air was gay with jests andlaughter. The town was much divided in spirit and did not really pull together. There were rampant Tories, who declared boldly for the King; there weremore faint-hearted ones who had much business at stake and cared onlyfor making money, and many of the Friends who counseled peace at anyprice. But events marched on rapidly and in June Congress declared for aContinental Army, and the host of patriots at Cambridge called ColonelWashington from Philadelphia, where he had been in consultation withsome of the important citizens, and made him commander in chief of theAmerican forces. The city had been prosperous and stretched out its borders in manydirections. There were flourishing Friends' meeting houses, there wasChrist Church and St. Peter's on the hill. For the hills had not beenleveled, and there were many pretty altitudes crowned with brickresidences that were considered fine at that time and certainly wereroomy. The Swedes had their church and all the denominations were wellrepresented, for at this period religious, interest was strong. Therewere not many outside amusements. Plays were considered ratherreprehensible. There were a few bridges over the creeks where boys waded, and girlswere not always averse to the enjoyment on a summer afternoon. Therewere flocks of geese and ducks disporting themselves. And along theshore front docks had been built, there were business warehouses andshipping plying to and fro, for the trade with more southern ports wasbrisk. There were some noted taverns where one might see foreignsailors, and shops that displayed curious goods. There was damaskFloreells silk, brocades and lutestrings done up in fair boxes, as youfound when you entered. There were gold and silver laces and goldbuttons and brocades of every variety and cost. The young damsels were sometimes allowed to go out with their elders andhave a peep at the fine things and express their likings. Some of thestorekeepers who had laid in abundant stocks chuckled to themselves atthe thought that now, when all importations on private account must bestopped, they would stand a better chance. In the early part of the century there had been an eloquent divine, aMr. Evans, who had succeeded Mr. Clayton and who somehow had proved veryattractive to the Friends. They had flocked to church to hear him, theyhad even taken off their broadbrims with a timid desire to conform tothe ways of the world's people. This had gone on until it awakened asense of alarm, and at the evening meeting where business might beconsidered, they had been forbidden to attend the services. So there hadgrown up a broader feeling, and numbers, while they did not quite liketo break with their own communion, were more tolerant, read disapprovedbooks, thought more of education, and began to look with different eyeson the great world, while others, almost horror-stricken at thelatitude, drew their lines tighter. From Christ Church, as an offshoot, had sprung up St. Peter's. GovernorPenn had his pew in the south gallery. Benjamin Franklin and many of theélite thronged the stone aisles with pattering footsteps, in lacedcoats, queues, and ruffles; the women with their big hats tied under thechin with an enormous bow, a fashion that sent the top up with a greatflare where puffs of hair were piled one upon another, or little curls, and stiff brocades that rustled along, little heels that clicked, laceor lawn scarfs coquettishly arranged for summer use, and great fanscarried by a ribbon on the arm. In winter there were silk pelisses edgedwith fur, or a fur or velvet coat. The great distinction was the younggirls in much more simple material, with pretty demureness and sometimeslonging looks cast at the attire of the young wives or older matrons, and a thought of the time when this glory should be theirs. Now that one must be for or against, Madam Wetherill, though notaggressive in her opinions, plainly showed on which side her sympathieswere ranged. Wiseacres shook their heads; even among those who came to drink tea inthe summer house, made primarily by four large, over-arching trees and alatticework about, against which there was a bench all around, and agreat table sufficiently rustic not to mind the summer showers. There was no spinet to practice on. There were no tutors, but Primrosesaid a few lessons to Patty, sewed a little, and ran about, her handsand arms encased in long linen mitts that left the fingers free, and awidebrimmed straw hat tied well down, or a Quaker sun bonnet made ofreeds and cambric. But there were so many visitors that she was oftendressed up, and made much of by the young ladies. Polly Morris complained that "Bella was in a very poor state and piningfor country air. If her purse were long enough she would take her up toMartha Woolcot's, but boarding was high. The Matthews had gone over tothe Jerseys. They had been very kind in giving her a fortnight's visit, but now the house would be shut up, and there was only her smallcottage, that had been so built around by reason of business that onecould hardly find a mouthful of fresh air. " "I did say I would not ask her here again in the summer. Bella istroublesome and forward amid company. But, poor thing! she has only partof her house, as below it is a shop and rented out, and her purse is aslim one at best, " said good-hearted Madam Wetherill. "Patty, supposeyou write for me, and ask her for a fortnight. She will stay a fullmonth. The children may play about and amuse themselves. 'Tis not that Igrudge what she eats and drinks, but I like not to have people take somuch by right, and feel that your best is hardly good enough for them, and that you owe them something. " "Yes, madam, " replied Patty respectfully, though she set about it ratherreluctantly. She was not over fond of Bella. A week later they came with a chest of attire that did indeed presage agood long stay. Bella was glad enough to meet her compeer. "For it has been utterly wretched since Aunt Matthews went away, " sheconfessed to Primrose. "We went there so often. And Jonas, the youngerboy, has so much drollness in him and tells about pranks at school. Andone night he crept out of the window on a shed and slid down and went toa merrymaking at some tavern, where they had rare fun. He did not comein until nearly morning, and his head ached so he was ill the next day. Aunt Matthews made him a posset. " "And did he confess this wrong to her?" asked Primrose in gravesolicitude. "Confess! What a silly you are, Primrose! That would have spoiled allthe fun. " "But it was not right. " "Well--his father would have been severe with him, and when one is sharpit is a pleasure to outwit him. The boys had carried off some gatesshortly before, and they had changed the sign of the Jolly Fisherman toFriend Reed's coffin shop, and he never knew it the whole morning andwondered why people stared. Both boys were soundly caned for it, andafter all it was only a bit of fun. So then they kept their own counsel. Jonas knows such pages of funny verses, and there are some in Latin. " "How did you come to know?" "Oh, he told me!" Bella bridled her head and half shut one eye that gaveher an unpleasant look of cunning. "He swore me not to tell and saidlittle girls were often better than big girls. " "And did you swear?" Primrose was horror-stricken. "Well, I didn't say any wicked words. Some of the great ladies say, 'Iswear, ' and the men often do, but it doesn't really mean anything whenyou say it in French. " Primrose asked Patty about it. "Swearing is swearing, whether you do it in French or Dutch. What putsuch nonsense in thy head? I think the French a wicked language anyhow, and I don't see why madam wants thee to jabber any such gibberish. " "It's very hard and I don't believe I ever shall, " said the child with asigh. "The better grace for thee then. " Bella was quite wise and precocious and learning ways of fashionrapidly. She stood a little in awe of Madam Wetherill and could be verydemure when she saw that it was the part of wisdom. Occasionally shemade Primrose a tacit partner in some reprehensible matter in a way thatthe child could not protest against. And then Bella laughed at her lovefor birds and flowers and was always talking about finery and repeatingthe flattering things that were said to her. And she much preferredlistening to the ladies and the gallants to gathering flowers or hearingthe birds singing in the trees. One day Andrew came. Everything was better at Cherry Hill, and her unclethought now it was time for her to come. "Why, is your father getting about so soon?" asked Madam Wetherill insurprise. "Oh, no, indeed! He mends but slowly. Still he wishes to do his duty, and I think he broods over it more than is good for him. So my motherproposed to him that the little maid should be sent for, and he waseager at once. And he wished me to say if it was not too inconvenient tothee I would bring her back. I have a pillion. " "Nay, the child knows so little about riding. I meant to have herinstructed this summer. And there would be some garments to take. Icannot get them ready so soon. And I am afraid she will bother thypeople sadly. Thou hadst better return and explain this. I will driveover in a few days and bring her. Meanwhile thou art warm and tired. Rest and refresh thyself a little. I think the children are roaming inthe woods, but, like the chickens, they are sure to come home tosupper. " Andrew Henry washed his face and hands at the rustic out-of-doorstoilette, and little Casper, the black boy, brought him a thick linentowel, with velvet-like softness and smelling of lavender. Then he musthave some home-brewed beer to refresh himself, and a plate of JaniceKent's wafers, that were spicy and not over sweet and went excellentlywell with the beer. "Dost thou go often to the city?" Madam Wetherill asked. She wasthinking how finely this young Quaker was filling out in the shoulders, how well set and soft his brown eyes were, and his cherry lips had finecurves with resolution, yet a certain winning tenderness. "I go in on market days, twice a week. These are stirring times. Thereare arguments on every corner of the street, and men almost come toblows. " "The blows may be needed later on. Thou art a peace man, I dare say. " "That is the belief in which I have been brought up, " he answeredrespectfully. "And I was brought up to honor the King. But if a king listens to evilrather than good counselors--kings were cut off in old times for notdealing justly. I am sure Mr. Pitt hath given excellent advice, but ithas not been followed. " "I know so little about it, " Andrew returned. "I went once to JohnBartram's for some rare cuttings my father desired, and met there thegreat Franklin, who counseled peace and leniency in England. And theyall think now that nothing can stop the war. " "It hath begun already. We must decide which side we shall be on, evenif we do not fight. But come down here where smiling peace sitsgossiping with fair plenty. I wonder if next summer will give us such ascene?" She made a gracious little movement, and she took his arm as they beganto descend the sloping path. She was a very fascinating woman and nowshe had resolved to do her best to win over those who stood inuncertainty if she could not move the uncompromising Friend. It was a pretty scene. After the slope was a level of beautiful sward, with a circle of magnificent trees. Then another varying decline thatended at the river's edge, where rocked two or three gayly paintedboats. There were two young fellows in the attire of the gallant of theday lolling on the grass, and a young man in Quaker garb of the finestsort, sporting silver buckles at his knee and on his low shoes. The ladies were some of the beauties of Philadelphia, to be famous longafterward. There was the pretty Miss Shippen and Becky Franks, noted forher wit and vivacity; Miss Wharton and Miss Mifflin and the gay Mrs. Penn. "I have brought thee a new recruit, Friend Norris, " she began smilingly, "since thou art of the same faith and texture. Thy father knew PhilemonHenry well, and this is his nephew. Ladies, let me present Friend Henry, since the Quakers will have no handle to their names. Perhaps many ofyou know Cherry Hill, from whence some of our finest fruit is brought. " The ladies courtesied. Mrs. Penn stepped nearer. "Yes, I knew thy uncle somewhat and had met his lovely wife, who livesagain in the little fairy she left behind. It must have broken her heartto go. " Young Norris came around. Andrew Henry had blushed furiously under thescrutiny of so many lovely eyes, and then, recovering, stood his groundmanfully. The scene affected him something as if he had been drinkingwine, and yet the impression was delightful. "He has come to take our little moppet away. She belongs part of thetime to her uncle. " "Oh, Madam Wetherill, " exclaimed Miss Franks, "put her best gown on MissBella and send her by mistake. Wait until dusk and no one will everknow. " "Not even in the morning?" asked Andrew with a touch of merriment, whilethe others laughed. "Nay, the best gown is not needed if you want to pass off someone inher stead, " said Norris. "That would be suspected at once. Plan again. " "Oh, I forgot! Little Miss Bella hath so much pretty attire. I dosuppose she would be astray in a Quaker frock. Well, what can we do? Mr. Henry, we shall outwit thee, never fear. " "Madam Wetherill hath refused me already, " he answered. "But she wasmerciful. " "And I brought him hither for consolation. An old woman's refusal cannotbe so heart-breaking as that of a young lass. " "But we have had no chance to refuse, " said saucy Miss Mifflin, raisingher coquettish eyes. "Cherry hill is a large estate, but somewhat out of the way. I haveridden by it, " said Norris. "We of the town get spoiled by neighbors. Itmust be dreary in the winter. " "The evenings are lonesome. In summer, what with being up at sunrise andbusy all day, the nights are welcome, but in winter the city hath adeeper interest. Although I have so far been content. " "We are in a curious heat now. Our staid town never saw such a ferment. Every day we wait for news from some of the provinces, north or south. Isuppose thou wilt take little heed to it. Yet we number many of theFriends on our side. " "I have not paid much attention to what has gone before, I must admit, but one day I heard some speeches at Carpenter's. " "Nay, you are not to talk war to Friend Henry. He will take us for aparty of savages. Is there no more inviting topic?" They found one that was full of light, harmless jest, and an hourpassed so quickly that Andrew Henry was startled. He rode home alone without seeing Primrose, who could not be found inthe nearby haunts. And for the first time strange visions, strangelongings filled his mind, as if he had suddenly come to manhood andoutgrown the bands that had made his way so strait. Was it some suggestion of the tempter? All the strong virile bloodrushed through his veins, and he only made a feeble fight to subdue it. He did not really want to put it aside. It was much later than usual when he reached home. In fact the sun hadgone down, Julius with the great market wagon had been home hoursbefore. "Son, what delayed thee so? And the child--where is she?" asked hismother. He explained that she had gone off with her companion and that he hadwaited; that Madam Wetherill would bring her up in a day or two. Rachelsat on the doorstep knitting, and some supper was spread in the livingroom. But he went in to his father first, and, after a few words aboutPrimrose, gave an account of his day's doings, except a little loiteringto hear the talk. And he took from his pocket the leathern pouch tiedtightly with a string, pouring the money on the bed and counting it overfor his father. Then he brought out a curious box much ornamented withcopper, now black by age except at the sides where it had been handled, and, unlocking it, put in the money, giving the key back to his father. "You think Friend Wetherill is quite honest about the child?" he askedfeverishly. "She is not one to place a light value on her own word. The child couldhardly have been gotten ready in that brief while. " "There was nothing to get, " rather fretfully. "We do not want the vainclothing of the world. The child will be ruined by vanity. " "She keeps very sweet, methinks. " "How canst thou judge? Thy mother hath more wisdom and may tell anotherstory. There, get to supper. It is weary lying here, but the Lord's waysare not as ours. " Andrew ate a little supper in the plain, bare room. On the green wherethe ladies had sat was a strong cherry table, containing some plates andglasses and a great stone pitcher curiously molded. How the trees hadwaved overhead and sifted golden gleams and shadows through! There hadbeen a bit of peerless blue sky, the sweetness of the grass, the softlap of the river that one could hear only when the talk stopped. Howbeautiful it all was! That was God's world. And the long ride home, thewoods in solemn grandeur, the bits of river now and then. He was stirredmysteriously. He was a new man. Rachel still sat on the doorstep. Sometimes he came out, and, thoughthey said little, there was a pleasure in the nearness. Penn Morgan returned from the great barn, where he and the hired man hadleft things comfortable for the night. Anything was safe enough. No needto lock or bolt in this Arcadian simplicity, except to keep cattle fromstraying. Penn told over his day's work and the morrow's plans and went to bed. Rachel had not been knitting for some time, but she folded up her workand passed in without a word. Friends of the stricter sort were ascareful of vain and idle words as the most rigid Puritan. He missed something sorely to-night. It was the little girl who hadkissed him. Two days later Madam Wetherill brought her over in the neatest attire, with no furbelows or laces. Primrose had demurred somewhat. "Nay, " saidMadam Wetherill with a consoling sound in her voice, "they would notlike it, and it is only for a few months. All the articles will be hereon thy return or in the city, " smiling. "It will not be long and thoumust be a brave, good girl, and happy, too. Sometime thou wilt choose. Ahundred things may happen. " She ran down the path and said good-by to the nodding flowers. She wassorry to part with Bella and Patty, and Casper and the great dog, andthe mother cat with the two kittens, and she was loath to leave the gaychatter and the visions of the radiant young women who petted her nowand then. She was not afraid of Mistress Kent, though her tongue wasstill sharp, and she kept her riding whip handy to give Casper and Joe, the black boys, who were very full of frolic, a cut now and then. The ride in the clumsy chaise was a silent one. Madam Wetherill wassurprised to find how the little one had crept into her heart. And shewas growing ever so much prettier, more like her mother. It was thecare, no doubt. They would let her get tanned and try to subdue the curlin her lovely silken hair. The lady smiled oddly to herself, thinking amightier power than Quaker rule had put it there. But it would be badfor the child, this continual changing. However, it could not be helpednow. One consolation was that she was much too young to give anythingbut a child's love to her cousin. And he would be married to somethrifty woman before she was grown up. It was Rachel who came to take the budget done up in a stout hempencloth, and lifted out the little girl, then holding the horse whileMadam descended, and fastening it to the hitching post. The old lady satunder the same tree, but the little girl was weeding in the garden andstood up to look, covered with her widebrimmed hat. "They have been wondering, " said Rachel. "Uncle is not so well. Thefever hath been troublesome. Wilt thou come in? And this is the littlecousin? Thou and Faith will make nice companions. " Friend Lois came to the door and received her guest with grave courtesy, saying to Primrose, "We have been looking for thee, child, " as theywalked in. There was a pitcher of mead standing in a stone jar of cold spring waterand both travelers were thirsty. Friend Lois had the name of making itin a most excellent fashion. "I am afraid Primrose will be a care to thee this summer, " MadamWetherill said with kindly solicitude. "And thy husband is not so well, the young girl tells me. " "My niece, Rachel Morgan. And though the loss of my sister was great andunexpected, her health being robust, and it hath added much to my cares, Rachel is to me as a daughter and a great comfort. " The young girl made a courtesy and stood undecided. "Does not the broken limb mend?" "It is doing well. But he hath thought of his duty concerning the childovermuch. I assured him he might let it go for this summer, but he wasnot minded to. " "It would have been quite as well. " "He did not think so. And since it was on his mind I sent. " She gave asoft sigh. "Wilt thou come in and see him? He would rather. " Madam Wetherill walked into the room and greeted the invalid. There wasa flush on his cheek and a brightness in the eye that betokened feverishdisarrangement. He began to explain in a quick, excited tone. "Of course it is thy time. We shall not dispute about the law'sdecision, though Mr. Chew did think it would not be so good for thechild, seeing that our lines are cast in such different places. I hopeall will go well with you and she will not add to your cares. I willsend over to hear now and then. " "Where is she?" in a half-suspicious manner. "Primrose!" the lady called. The child came in reluctantly. "Yes, yes. James Henry has never shirked a duty. And one is entitled tomake a fair fight for the soul that belongs to the faith. It was herfather's wish. " "I hope thou wilt mend rapidly. The warm weather is trying. " There wasno use of argument as to faiths. He nodded languidly. "And now I will return. I have a long ride before me, and guests athome. Farewell. " No one made any effort to detain her. There was little persuasion amongthe Friends, who despised what they considered the insincere usages ofsociety. Primrose caught at Madam Wetherill's gown. Her eyes were lustrous withtears that now brimmed over, and her slight figure all a-tremble. "Oh, take me back with you; take me back!" she cried with suddenpassion. "I cannot like it here, I cannot!" "Child, it is only for a little while. Remember. Be brave. One's wordmust always be kept. " "Oh, I cannot!" The small body was in a quiver of anguish, pitiful tosee. Bessy Wardour had loved, too, and then gone away to the man of herchoice, if not the life of her choice. But she was much moved by thepassionate entreaty, and stooped to kiss her, then put her away, saying, "It must be, my child. But thou wilt come back to us. " CHAPTER VIII. A LITTLE REBEL. As the carriage-wheels rolled away Primrose burst into a violentparoxysm of weeping. Rachel came forward and took her hand, but it wasjerked away rudely. "Primrose, this is most unseemly, " said Lois Henry, looking at her insurprise. "If thou art indulged in such tempers at Madam Wetherill's, itis high time thou went where there is some decent discipline. I amashamed of thee. And yet it is more the fault of those who have been setover thee. " Primrose Henry straightened up and seemed an inch or two taller for theebullition of anger. She looked directly at her aunt and the blue eyesflashed a sort of steely gleam. The mouth took on determined curves. "There is nothing to put me in tempers at home. I like it. I likeeverybody. And it is the being torn away----" "But wert thou not torn away from this house last year?" Primrose was silent a moment. "I hate this being tossed to and fro! AndI have learned to love them all at Aunt Wetherill's. I go to ChristChurch. I shall never, never be a Quaker. And I am a--a rebel! If I werea man I would go and help them fight against the King. " Lois Henry looked horrified. "Child, thou art silly and ignorant, and wicked, too. What dost thouknow about the King? We do not believe in kings, but we obey those setover us until it comes to a matter of conscience. We leave all theseturbulent discussions alone and strive to be at peace with all men. Thoucanst not be saucy nor show thy hot temper here. " "Then send me home. Do send me home, " said the child with spiritedeagerness. "This is thy home for six months. Rachel, take the bundle up to thelittle chamber next to that of Faith and put away the things in thecupboard--and take the child with you. Primrose, thou wilt remain thereuntil thou art in a better frame of mind. I am ashamed of thee. " Primrose did not mind where she went. She knew her way up the windingstairs put in a corner off the living room. The house had a double pitchto the roof, the first giving some flat headway to the chambers, thesecond a steep slant, though there were many houses with nearly flatroofs. This was of rough, gray stone, and the windows small. There wasbut one, and a somewhat worn chair beside it, the splints sorely needingreplacement. A kind of closet built up against the wall, and a cot bedwith a blue and gray blanket were all the furnishing. The child glanced at it in dismay, not remembering that she had beenhappy here only such a little while ago. But it seemed ages now, just asshe had almost forgotten what had passed before. There had been no oneto talk over the past with her, and she had missed her tender mothersorely. Children were not considered of much importance then except asregarded their physical welfare and a certain amount of training tomake them obedient to their elders. That serious, awesome spiritual lifethat shadowed so much of childhood under Puritan auspices was not afeature of the more southern colonies. They were supposed to imbibereligious impressions from example. Early in the history of the townthere had been some excellent Quaker schools, that of Friend Keith, whosowed some good seed even if he did afterward become a scorn to theprofane and contentious, because he started to found a sect of"Christian Quakers, " and finally found a home in England and theAnglican Church. But the school flourished without him, and to theFriends belongs the credit of the early free schools. The subtleanalysis of later times found no inquiring minds except among a few ofthe higher scholars. It was not considered food for babes. Rachel untied the bundle that had been bound up with a stout cord. "Thou canst put them in the closet in an orderly manner. Then, if thouhast returned to thy right mind, come downstairs. " Primrose looked out of the window without stirring. The great walnuttrees were waving their arms and making golden figures on the grass thatran about everywhere. Patty had told her stories of "little people" wholived in the north of England and Scotland, but they only came out inthe moonlight. Ah, these were birds or squirrels--oh! there was asquirrel up in the tree, with his great bushy tail thrown over his back. And Primrose laughed with tears still shining on her lashes. Over at adistance was a hen with a brood of chickens, clucking her way along. Andthere were two pretty calves in an inclosure. But then there was everything at Aunt Wetherill's, and such rows androws of flowers. Patty brought them into the rooms in bowls, and theyoung ladies wore them. What was that? Oh, the little old lady under thetree was walking away---- "Faith, " said the clear, calm voice, "leave off thy gardening. Grandmother is growing restless. " Primrose watched with strange interest. Presently a girl of about herown size walked quietly out to the old lady and took her by the arm, turning her around, and led her back to the house. After that--nothing. She was almost frightened at the stillness and began to cry again as asense of loneliness oppressed her. Oh, she must go back! There wassomething in her throat that choked her. Then a tall figure came acrossthe field in his shirt-sleeves, and with a great swinging stride. Suddenly her heart bounded within her body. Like a bird she flew downthe stairs, almost running over Chloe, out of the door, skimming alongthe grassy way, and never taking breath until two strong arms lifted herfrom the ground and kissed her, not once, but dozens of times. "Child, when did you come?" "Oh, such a long time ago! It must be years, I think. And I hate it, theold house and everything! I cannot stay. Andrew, take me back. If you donot I shall run away. I want Patty and Aunt Wetherill, and little Joe, who is always doing such funny things, and Mistress Kent whips him, buthe does them over when she is not there, only she comes suddenly--andthe pretty ladies who laugh and talk. It is so dreary here. " She raised her lovely eyes that were to conquer many a heart later on, and the lips quivered in entreaty like an opening rose in the breeze. "Nay--I am here, " he said. "And I love you. I want you. " She looked as if she was studying. A little crease came between hereyes, but it seemed to him it made her prettier than before. "But why must I come? Why must I stay?" How could he make her understand? "And there are some other girls--Faith and the big one. I do not likeher. " "But you will. I like her very much. " "Then you shall not like me. " She struggled to free herself. "Thou art a briery little Rose, " and he smiled into her eyes and kissedher. "I shall hold thee here until thou dost repent and want to staywith me. Faith is not as sweet as thou and Rachel is too old forcaresses. Then I am not sure they are proper. " "When I get as old as Rachel--how old is that? shalt thou cease to carewhether I come or not?" "I shall never cease to care. If I could change places with MadamWetherill I would never let thee go. But what folly am I talking! It isthe law that thou shalt do so. " "Who makes the law? Put me down, Andrew; I feel as if part of my bodywould be drawn from the other part. Oh, " laughing in a rippling, merryfashion, "if such a thing _did_ happen! If there could be two of me!Rose should be the part with the pink cheeks and the red, red lips, andthe bright eyes, and the other, Prim, might stay here. " "Thou naughty little midget! I am glad there cannot be two, if that isthy division. I will take part of the time instead. Little Primrose, itis a sad thing to part with those we love, even for a brief while. Theplace was not the same when thou went away. And surely, then, thou wertsorry to go. " Primrose was silent so long that he glanced into her eyes. There wassuch a difference in eyes the young Quaker had learned. The pretty, laughing women on the green at Wetherill farm had said so much withtheirs when they had not uttered a word. Rachel's were a dullish-blue, sometimes a kind of lead color, Faith's light, with curious greenishshadows in them. But these were like a bit out of the most beautifulsky. "It seemed quite terrible to me then, " she made answer slowly. "Arepeople very queer, Andrew? For then I was afraid of Mistress Kent andAunt Wetherill and everybody, and I wanted to stay here. And now it isso merry and pleasant in Arch Street, and there is the spinet that Ising to, and the lessons I learn, and some books with verses in andtales of strange places and people, and going out to the shops withPatty and watching the boys snowballing, and learning to slide. " "But thou art not in Arch Street, and there is a farm here. Come, let usfind the early sweet apples. I think there are some ripe ones, and thouart so fond of them. " They walked along together. "Still, I do not understand why a thingshould be so dear and pleasant and then change and look--look hateful toyou!" There was a pang in the great fellow's tender heart. "Nay, not hateful!" he said pleadingly. "But I did not want to stay. Aunt Lois looked stern and spoke crossly. And I am not a Quaker any more. I told her so. And I am a--a rebel! Iwill have no English King. " Her tone accented it all with capitals. "Thou art a rebel, sure enough. " Yet he smiled tenderly on her. Whatevershe was was sweet. "And I said I would fight against the King. " "Heaven send there may not be much fighting! Even now it is hoped thecolonists will give way a little and the King yield them some liberties, and we shall be at peace again. " "But we will have a king of our very own, " she said willfully, forgetting her protest of a moment agone. "The old one in England shallnot rule over us. And why do not the people who like him go back to thatcountry?" "They cannot very well. They have their land and their business here. " "Then they should try to agree. " "Dost thou try to agree when things are not to thy liking?" She glanced up with a beseeching, irresistible softness in her eyes, andthen hung her dainty head. "But you have the other girl Faith. And Aunt Lois thinks what I learn iswrong. And--and----" They paused under the wide-spreading tree. What a fine orchard it was!Andrew pulled down a branch and felt of several apples, then found onewith a soft side. "There is a good half to that. I will cut it with my knife and thechickens may find the rest. There are plenty more. " "Oh, how delicious! I had almost forgotten the apples. Things ought tobe sewn up in one's mind and never drop out. We have had none save somegreen ones to be gathered for sauce and pies. " "And there will be many other things. The peaches hang full. And thereare pears, but the cherries are all gone save the bitter wild ones. Thenthou canst find the squirrels again, and there is a pretty, shy littlecolt in the west field, with a white star in his forehead. " "Madam Wetherill has three little colts, " she returned rathertriumphantly. "And calves, and oh! such a lot of pretty, littlepinky-white pigs. " He cut another apple and fed it to her. "We shall have walks and thou shalt ride on a pillion. And I have foundsome books up in the old garret that have verses in them. Oh, wilt thounot try to be content?" She felt it was naughty, yet she cast about her for other protestations. "But I am not a Quaker. I say the Lord's Prayer aloud when I go to bed, over and over again. " "I like it myself, " he returned reverently. "But one needs todesire--various matters. " There had been serious questions among the Friends; some insisting allforms were hampering, and that spiritual life was a law unto itself andcould be moved only by divine guidance, as even the Apostles wereordered to take no heed as to what they should say. Yet, amid the manyshades of opinion, there had not been much dissension. Of late years nota few had been scandalized by the defection of the Penns and severalothers from the ways of their fathers, and drawn the cords a littletighter, making the dress plainer and marking a difference between themand the world's people. "Thou couldst take me to the farm some day when I have learned to rideon a pillion--just for a visit. " How coaxing the tone was! How bewitchingly the eyes smiled up into his! "Thou wilt stay and be content?" he said persuasively. "I will think. Content? That is a great thing. " "Yes. And now let us return. " "If there were no one but thou I should be quite happy, " she saidinnocently. So they walked on. Rachel was standing down at the end of the path withthe horn in her hand. "It is nigh supper time, " she said, "and thy father wishes to see thee. To-morrow is market day. Primrose, didst thou put away thy thingsneatly?" "I will do it now. " The child ran upstairs. "A self-willed little thing, " commented Rachel, "and she has muchtemper. " "But a great deal of sweetness withal. And she hath been much petted. She will feel strange for a few days. Be kindly affectioned toward her. " Rachel made no reply. She went to the kitchen where Chloe had hermaster's supper prepared, a very simple one to-night on account of thefever, and carried it in. Then she blew a long blast on the horn, whichshe had forgotten in her surprise at seeing Primrose clinging toAndrew's hand. When Primrose reached the little room her old feelings returned. Shefrowned on the parcel lying on the floor, as if it were an alien thingthat she would like to hide away. There were several shelves in thecloset and some hooks at one end. Oh, here were some frocks she had wornlast summer, homespun goods! A pair of clumsy shoes, larger than thoseshe had on, and she gave them a little kick. Grandmother was in the living room, sitting by the window. Very pale andfrail she looked. "Faith, " she said. "Faith, " in a tremulous voice. "I am not Faith. My name is Primrose Henry, " and the child came nearerwith a vague curiosity. "No, thou art not a true Henry with that trifling name. The Henrys weresober, discreet people, fearing the Lord and serving Him. What didstthou say?" lapsing in memory and looking up with frightened eyes. "Thouart a strange girl and I want Faith. " She began to cry with a soft, sad whine. "Grandmother, yes; Faith will be here in a minute. This is Andrew'scousin, his dead uncle's child, Philemon Henry. " "And she said her name was--a posy of some sort; I forget. They used totake posies to meetings, sweet marjoram and rosemary. And there wasfennel. It was a long while ago. Why did Philemon Henry die?" Primrose looked at her curiously. "That was my own father, " she said with a feeling that these people hadno right of real ownership in him, except Andrew. Aunt Lois came out, and taking her mother's hand, said, "Come and havesome supper. " Then, turning to Primrose, "I hope thou art in a betterhumor, child. It does not speak well for town training that thoushouldst fly in such a passion with thy elders. " "Who was in a passion?" repeated grandmother with a parrot-likeintonation. "Not one of the Lord's people I hope?" "Silence, mother!" Lois Henry spoke in a low tone but with a certain decision. She was likea child and had to be governed in that manner. They were all takingtheir places at the table, Lois at the head and Rachel next tograndmother on the other side, then Faith and Primrose. Opposite theworkmen were ranged, Andrew with one on either hand. The colored helphad a table in the kitchen. This was the only distinction the Henrysmade. Lois Henry accepted the burthen of a half demented mother with a quietresignation. In her serene faith she never inquired why a capable anddevoted Christian woman should have her mind darkened and be madecomparatively helpless while physical strength remained, though it was amatter of some perplexity why her sister should have been taken and hermother left. The master's seat at the foot of the table was vacant. Lois would haveit so. It seemed as if they were only waiting for him. Primrose had turned scarlet at her aunt's rebuke and Faith's scrutiny. After the silent blessing the supper was eaten quietly, Chloe coming innow and then to bring some dish or take away an empty one. And when theyrose Faith led her grandmother out under the tree where she spent herhalf hour before bedtime, unless it rained. Rachel went in to UncleHenry, and Lois took a careful supervision of the kitchen department, that did miss her steady oversight, though Rachel was very womanly. Primrose sauntered out and sat down on the doorstep, feeling verystrange and lonely, and resenting a little the knowledge of having beencrowded out. Penn Morgan gave her a sharp look as he went out with themilking pail. There was still considerable work to do before bedtime. When Rachel was released she took grandmother to bed. The window hadbeen made secure with some slats nailed across, for she had been knownto roam about in the night. Her room opened into that of Rachel'sinstead of the little hall, and the girl closed the door and put a smallwedge above the latch so that it could not be opened. James Henry had asked in a vague, feverish way if they had allowedPrimrose to go back with her aunt. "Why, no, " answered Lois. "Wilt thou see her?" "No, no! I cannot be disturbed. It is but right that she should come. Thou wilt no doubt find her head full of vagaries and worldliness. Whatcan one do when the enemy sows tares? I cannot resign myself to lettingthem grow together. " "Yet so the Lord has bidden. " "Nay, we are to do our duty in the Lord's vineyard as well as in thefields. I uproot noxious weeds, or I should have fields overrun. And nowthat haying has begun I must lie here like a log and not even look outto see what is going on, " and he groaned. "But Andrew is almost like thyself, and Penn this two year hath managedfor his mother. We must submit to the Lord's will. Think if I had lostthee, James, and men have been killed by a less mishap!" James Henry sighed, unresigned. Faith came out timidly to the doorstep, and looked askance at Primrose. She was not robust and ruddy like Penn and Rachel, and yet she did notlook delicate, and though fair by nature was a little tanned by sun andwind. Not that the Friends were indifferent to the grace ofcomplexions, but children were often careless. But even among thestraitest there was a vague appreciation of beauty, as if it were adelusion and a snare. And the Quaker child glanced at the shining hair, the clear, pearly skin, the large lustrous eyes, the dainty hand, andthe frock that, though plain, had a certain air like Lord's Day attire, and was not faded as an every-day garb would be. Then she glanced athers, where a tuck had been pulled out to lengthen it, and left a bandof much deeper blue, and the new half sleeves shamed the old tops. Herheart was filled with sudden envy. "Thou art not to live here always, " she began. "It is only for a briefwhile. And I am to stay years, until I am married. Mother's bedding andlinen hath been put in two parcels, one for Rachel, who will be marriedfirst, as she is the eldest, and the other will be mine. " Primrose stared. Bella talked of marriage, but it seemed a great mysteryto Primrose. There was no one she liked but Cousin Andrew, but she likedliberty better, she thought. Why should one want to get married? Thepretty young girls who came out to the farm had no husbands. Patty hadnone and she was talking forever about the trouble they were, andMistress Janice and Madam Wetherill---- "But if he should be ill in bed and thou had to sit by him like AuntLois----" "Uncle is not ill. He hath a broken leg, and that will mend, " was thealmost rebuking reply. "I like the town better. I did not want to come nor to stay, and I amglad I am not to live here always, " Primrose said spiritedly. "I like myCousin Andrew----" "How comes it that he is _thy_ cousin? My mother was own sister to AuntLois, and so _we_ are cousins. Had thy mother any sisters?" Primrose had not thought much about relationships. Now she was puzzled. "Our names are alike, " after some consideration. "And I was here thefirst, a long while ago--last summer. " "But I have been here many times. And now I am to live here. Besidesthou--thou art hardly a Friend any more--I heard Chloe tell Rachel. Thouart with the vain and frivolous world's people, and Andrew cannot likethee. " That was too much. The dark eyes turned black with indignation and thecheeks were scarlet. "He does like me! Thou art a bad, wicked girl and tellest falsehoods!" Primrose sprang up and the belligerents faced each other. Then Andrewcame up the path, and she flew out with such force that the milkscattered on the ground, and he had to steady himself. "Primrose----" "She said thou didst not like me, and that I am no relation. What didstthou say down in the orchard? And if no one likes me why can I not goback to Aunt Wetherill?" The usually gay voice was full of anger, just as he had heard it before. Truly the child had a temper, for all her sweetness. "Children--wait until I carry in the milk, and then I will come out andhear thee. " Chloe took the pail and Penn followed with his. Andrew came out, and looked at the girls with grave amusement. Primrosewas the most spirited. Really, was he being caught with the world'ssnare, beauty? "She said you--you did not like me. " Primrose's lip quivered in anappealing fashion, and her bosom swelled with renewed indignation. "I did not say that, " interposed Faith. "Not _just_ that. It was aboutvain and frivolous world's people, and Chloe said she was not a Quakerany more, and I--how canst thou like her, Cousin Andrew?" "Children, there must be no quarreling. There are many families wherethere are friends and members of various beliefs. And if we cannot loveone another, how shall we love God?" Faith made a sudden dart to Andrew and caught his hand. "Thou art not her cousin, truly, " she exclaimed with triumph. "As much as I am thine. Our mothers were sisters. Primrose's father andmine were brothers. That is why our names are alike. And if you are goodI shall like you both, but I cannot like naughty children. " "You see!" Primrose said in high disdain to her crestfallen compeer. "Iwas right. If Uncle James had not been my uncle I should not have had tocome here. And I should not care for Andrew. " There was something superb in the defiance visible in every feature andthe proud poise of the shoulders. A woman grown could hardly have donebetter. Andrew Henry was curiously amused, and not a little puzzled asto how he should restore peace between them. Faith's face had settledinto sullen lines. "I shall love best whichever one is best and readiest in obedience andkindliness, " he said slowly. "I do not care. " Primrose turned away with the air of a small queen. "Ishall go back to town and you may have Faith and--and everybody. " Butthe voice which began so resolutely in her renunciation broke and endedwith a sob. "Oh, my dear child!" Andrew's arm was about her and his lips pressedtenderly to her forehead, and the relenting lines gave him an exquisitethrill of pleasure he did not understand. "What is all this discussion and high voices about?" demanded LoisHenry. "I will not have the night disturbed by brawls. Both childrenshall be whipped soundly and sent to bed. " "Nay, mother, listen. " Andrew straightened himself up but still kept hisarm protectingly about Primrose, glad that the falling twilight did notbetray the scarlet heat in his face. "It came from a misunderstanding. Faith did not know we were cousins by the father's side, as she and Iare on the mother's. It is hard for little ones to get all the lines ofrelationship, and this being Faith's true home it seemed as if her rightmust be best. But now they are at peace and will be pleasant enough onthe morrow. They did nothing worthy of punishment. " Faith was glad enough of the chance to escape, for she had alreadysmarted from the rod in the resolute hands of her aunt. She came towardher now and said humbly: "I did not understand, truly. I will be wiser and never again think ituntrue. And now--shall I go up to bed?" Lois Henry was not satisfied, but she did not want to have open wordswith her son before the children. "Both go to bed at once, " she said sharply. "Rachel?" "I am here, " said the elder girl quietly. "Take Primrose upstairs and see that she is fixed for the night, though, hereafter, she will wait upon herself. I like not to have childrenbrought up helpless. " "Go, my little dear, " Andrew whispered caressingly. "To-morrow----" Primrose was awed by Aunt Lois and followed with no further word orsign. Rachel found her nightdress and half envied the daintiness. "What were thy words with Faith about, " she inquired in a somewhatperemptory tone. "Thou art Faith's sister, ask her, " was the resentful reply. She musttell the truth if she spoke at all, and she did not want to run anotherrisk of being blamed. Andrew believed in her, that was the comfort sheheld to her throbbing heart. "Thou art a froward child and hast been overindulged. But, I warn thee, Aunt Lois will train naughty girls sharply. " Rachel stood in a sort of expectant attitude and Primrose leaned againstthe window. "Get to bed, " the elder said quickly. "Go! go!" Primrose stamped her rosy bare foot on the floor. "I want youaway. I cannot say my prayer with you here. " "Thou needst prayer certainly. Among other things pray for a bettertemper. " Rachel went slowly, and shut the door. Primrose threw herself on the bedand gave way to a paroxysm of sobs and tears. Once she thought she wouldcreep downstairs and fly to the woods--anywhere to be out of reach ofthem all. Oh, how could she endure it! Patty scolded sometimes, andMadam Wetherill reproved and had on an occasion or two sent her out ofthe room, but to be threatened with a whipping was too terrible! CHAPTER IX. FATE TO THE FORE. They were early astir at the farm. Rachel in going downstairs calledPrimrose and Faith. The latter rubbed her sleepy eyes--it was always sohard to get up, but there were many things to do. Grandmother was theonly one allowed to sleep in quiet, and sometimes she would lie as lateas nine o'clock, to the great relief of everyone. "Come, thou sluggard!" and the child's shoulder was roughly shaken. "This is twice I have called thee, and what will happen a third time Icannot undertake to say. " "Patty!" Primrose opened her eyes and then gave a little shriek ofaffright. "Oh, where am I?" She had cried herself to sleep and forgotten all about her prayer. "I am not Patty, and thou wilt find no servant here to wait upon thee. We are not fine Arch Street people. Come, if thou dost want anybreakfast. " Slowly memory returned to Primrose. She leaned out of the little window. Oh, what joyous sound was that! She smiled as the birds caroled in thetrees and followed them with her soft, sweet voice that could not reachthe high notes. Then she began to dress, eager to be out of the smallroom that would have seemed a prison to her if she had known anythingabout a prison. But the wonderful melody filled her soul and lifted herup to the very blue heavens. So she loitered sadly about her dressing, and when she came down the table had been cleared away. Chloe had received instructions to give her a bite out in the kitchenpresently, but with a sense of injustice, growing stronger every moment, she almost flew from the house. Rachel was working butter in the milkroom and Faith weeding in the garden. Aunt Lois had had a very disturbednight and was suffering with a severe headache. Her husband's fever hadabated toward morning, and now he had fallen into a quiet sleep. Primrose made her way to the old orchard. Ah, how enchantingly the birdssang! Then there was a long, melodious whistle that she tried to imitateand failed, and laughed gleefully at her non-success. Where was the oldtree blown almost over by wind and storm that she used to run up, andfancy herself a squirrel? Ah, here it was! bent over so much more thatits branches touched the ground. She walked up the trunk, holding outboth arms to keep her balance, and then sitting down where threebranches crossed and made a seat. The apples were hard and sour, sheremembered, regular winter apples. She rocked to and fro, singing withthe birds and watching the white boats go sailing across the sky. Shelaughed in her lightness of heart, though there was no malice in it. Shedid not even give the household a thought. And then she was suddenly hungry. She sighed a little. Were there anymore ripe, sweet apples, she wondered! Oh, how long would she have tostay at Uncle Henry's? It was early July now, six months. What a long, long while as she counted them up! And there would be winter when shecould not run out of doors, and no lessons, no books to pore over, nomusic, no great parlor full of strange things that she never tired ofinspecting, no pretty ladies in silk and satin gowns, chattering andlaughing. What with the soft wind and the swaying motion she began to feel sleepyagain. She crawled down and looked for the tree they had foundyesterday. Alas! its branches were too high for her conquest. She threwherself down on the grass and leaned against the trunk, and in fiveminutes was soundly asleep. Rachel had gone about her duties in a quiet, rather resentful manner. Once Chloe had asked about the child. "I have called her twice, " was the brief answer. Then she heard grandmother stirring and went up to dress her and gaveher some breakfast. She would not even look in the small chamber whereshe supposed Primrose was lazily sleeping. Afterward she called inFaith, who washed her hands and changed her frock, as the dew and dirthad made it unsightly. "If thou wouldst only be careful and tuck it up around thy knees, " saidRachel in a fretted tone. "There is no sense in getting so draggled, andit makes overmuch washing. " "Shall I take the towels out to hem?" asked Faith. "Yes. Thee should get them done this morning. Aunt Lois spoke of thydilatoriness. " Faith longed to ask about the newcomer. It was sinful indulgence for herto be lying abed. And why was she not sent to weed in the garden or putat other unpleasant work? Rachel heard the rap on the tin cup that answered the purpose of a bellto summon one. Aunt Lois was still in her short bedgown and nightcap. "Thou must wait upon thy uncle this morning, " she began feebly. "I havetried, but I cannot get about. There is a dizziness in my head everytime I stir, and strange pains go shooting about me. It is an ill timeto be laid by with the summer work pressing, and two people needingconstant care. " She looked very feeble, and there was an unwholesome red spot upon eachcheek. Her usually calm and steady voice was tremulous. "But I feel better. The fever is gone, " said Uncle James. "There will beonly two weeks more and then I can begin to get about. When there is nohead matters go loosely enough. " "But I am sure Andrew is capable. He hath been trained under thine owneye. And Penn is steady and trusty. " "But a dozen young things cannot supply the master's place, " he returnedtestily. "And one almost feels as if the evil one hath gotten in hishandiwork as he did on Job. " Lois sighed. Rachel washed her uncle's face and hands and brought himsome breakfast. "Shall I not bring thee some, too?" "Nay, the thought goes against me. I will have some boneset tea steeped. And presently I will get out to the kitchen. Perhaps I shall mend bystirring about. " Grandmother sat under the tree or wandered about, babbling of old timesand asking questions that she forgot the next moment. There was a hamboiling in the great kettle over the kitchen fire, and a big basket ofvegetables for the dinner. There were two neighboring men working, whowere to have their midday meal. James Henry would have enjoyed Job's disputatious friends. There wereseveral knotty points in doctrine that he had gone over while lyinghere, and he longed to argue them with someone. The days were very longand tedious to him, for he had never been ill a whole week in his life. Lois crept out to the living room, then to the great shady doorstep. Howfine and fresh and reviving the waft of summer air, with its breath ofnew-mown hay, was to her fevered brow. "Where is the child?" she asked. "I called her twice. What with packing the butter and various duties shehath quite gone out of my mind. Surely she sleeps like the young man inthe Apostles' time. " "Go summon her again. She must be broken of such an evil habit. " Rachel primed herself for some well-deserved severity. There was no onein the room. She searched the closet, the other rooms, then the "tuckplace" as it was called, and went through Chloe's room, over thekitchen. "She is not anywhere to be seen. Chloe, hast thou observed her stealingout?" "Nay, " and the colored servitor shook her head. "Strange where she can be. " "The child was tractable and well trained through the past summer, butshe hath grown lawless and saucy. When she comes I shall give her a goodswitching, if I am able. I will not have these mischievous pranks, " saidAunt Lois feebly. "She deserves it, " rejoined Rachel with unwonted zest. She longed to seethe child conquered. Still Primrose did not appear. Lois Henry took her herb tea, and aftera severe fit of nausea felt somewhat relieved, but very weak and shaky. She was just thinking of retiring when Andrew came across the field. Buthe was alone. "Hast thou seen aught of that willful child?" she inquired. "Primrose? No. " He looked from one to the other. "What hast thou beendoing with her?" Rachel sullenly recapitulated the morning's experience. "And she had no breakfast? Where can she have gone? Surely she hath notthought to find her way to Wetherill farm! We should not have insistedupon her coming at this time. Mother, you look very ill, " and the kindlyface was full of solicitude. "I am, my son. And it was not my will to have her, but your father'smind was set upon it. " "And then she is so different, " began Rachel. "What if we had allowedFaith in such tantrums!" "She needs a sharp hand to cure her evil temper. " "Mother, " said Andrew with a sense of the injustice, and a risingtenderness in his heart for Primrose, "we must consider. She is not tohave our lives, nor to be brought up in our way. She hath her ownfortune, and her mother was a lady----" "There are no ladies, but all are women in the sight of God. And as forsuch foolish, sinful lives as the townfolk lead, playing cards anddancing, and all manner of frivolous conversation, it were a mercy tosnatch one from the burning. She was a nice little child last year. Imust reduce her to obedience again, and some sense of a useful, godlylife. " "To have thy training upset by the next hand! It is neither wise norwholesome for the child, and she will come to have ill will towards us. I can remember how bright and cheerful and easily pleased her motherwas----" "She was never grounded in the faith. She had a worldly and carnal lovefor Philemon Henry, and it was but lip service. If he had lived----"Lois Henry had interrupted with an energetic protest in her voice, butnow she leaned her head on the door post and looked as if she mightcollapse utterly. "Mother, thou art too ill to be sitting up. Let me help thee to bed, andthen I must go look for the child. " He lifted her in his strong young arms and, carrying her through, laidher on the bed beside her husband. "I am very ill, " she moaned, and indeed she looked so. All her strengthseemed to have gone out of her. "I heard high words about the child. Hath she proved refractory? MadamWetherill and the houseful of servants have no doubt spoiled her. It isGod's mercy that there may be seasons of bringing her back to reasonablelife. " "Do not trouble about the little girl. To-day I think the doctor will behere to examine thy leg, and I am sure my mother needs him. I am afraidit is a grave matter. " "My poor wife! And I am a helpless burden on thee! I am afraid I havedemanded too much. " "The Lord will care for us, " she made answer brokenly. After giving some charges to Rachel, Andrew walked down the path thatled to the road. Was Primrose afraid of punishment, and had Rachel saidmore to her than she was willing to own? This was no place for her, Andrew said to himself manfully. And if his mother was to be ill---- He changed his steps and went to the barn. Would Rover remember thelittle girl of last summer? He raised the clumsy wooden latch. "Come, Rover, " he said cheerily. "Come, we must go and find Primrose. Iwonder if thou hast forgotten her?" Rover sprang out and made a wide, frolicsome detour. Then he came backto his master and listened attentively, looked puzzled, and started offagain down the road, but returned with a sort of dissatisfaction in hisbig brown eyes. "The orchard, perhaps. We might look there first. She was such aventuresome, climbing little thing last year. " Rover ran about snuffling, and started off at a rapid rate, giving aseries of short, exultant barks as he bounded to his master. "Good Rover!" patting the shaggy creature, who sprang up to his shoulderin joy. Primrose was still asleep. The winds had kissed with fragrant touches, the birds had sung to her, the bees had crooned, and the early summerinsects ventured upon faint chirps, as if they hardly knew whether theymight be allowed to mar the radiant summer day. How divinely beautifulit was! Her head had fallen on her shoulder and the old tree rose gray andprotecting. The long fringe of lashes swept her cheek, her hair wastumbled about in shining rings, her dewy lips slightly apart, almost asif she smiled. She had been worn out with her crying last night, but now was restedand fresh. The dog's bark roused her, and she opened her eyes. "Oh, Andrew! Where have I been? Why----" "Little runaway!" but his tone was tender, his eyes soft and shining. "Oh, Andrew!" she exclaimed again. Then she clasped her arms about hisbody with a kind of vehemence and buried her face for a moment. "Take meback, won't you? I can't stay here. I can't! I don't like anyone. EvenAunt Lois is cross and Rachel hates me. " "Oh, no, no! But thou shalt go back. This is no real home for thee. " "Oh, come, too!" she cried eagerly. "There is a great farm, and MadamWetherill will be glad to have thee. " "Nay, my father is ill and I could not leave him. And there is so muchwork to do. But I will see thee now and then to freshen thy memory. " "I should not be likely to forget thee. " "Didst thou have any breakfast?" "No, I didn't. I was very sleepy when Rachel called. I think I must haverun straight to the land of Nod again, " laughingly. "And when I camedown the table was cleared. There was someone in the kitchen, but I wasafraid. I do not know why it is, " and her plaintive voice touched him, "only now I am afraid of everybody--oh, no! not afraid of you, for Ilike you so much. And then I wanted to run away, but I did not know howto go. I climbed the crooked apple tree and swung to and fro until I wassleepy and afraid I might fall out. Then I came down here. Oh, can I goback? Truly, truly?" "Truly. " Yet he said it with a pang. How sweet and dainty she was! Hewould not have used the words, they were strange to him, but they sent athrill through his body, as music sometimes does. "Come, dinner will be ready. " "Will anyone scold me?" fearfully. "No one shall scold thee. " They walked together to the house. Rachel was just blowing the horn. Faith looked curiously at her and rather exulted in the punishment shewould get. Andrew went straight to the sick room. "I am afraid thy mother is ill beyond the power of herb teas, " saidJames Henry. "What a godsend that we should have Rachel! And oh, Heavengrant that it may not be as it was before! the strong and helpful onetaken, and the helpless left. " Lois Henry was deeply flushed now and lay with her eyes half open, muttering to herself. "Mother?" he said, but she did not notice him. He went out to dinner in a thoughtful mood, but he had no appetite. Primrose was hungry enough, but looked up smilingly now and then. Dr. Reed came in earlier than his wont and accepted the invitation to dine, asking questions occasionally as to how Friend Lois had been last week, and if she had shown any tendency to be flurried. "She hath not been quite herself, now that I come to recall it, "answered Rachel, "and complaining of being tired and not sleeping well. Oh, I hope----" She was about to add, "it will not be with her as it waswith my poor mother, " but tears stopped her. It was a fever sure enough. It would be better to have her in a separatechamber, and if some old nurse would come in. "There was MistressFanshaw, only come home last week. " "I will go for her, " responded Andrew. "I shall be in on the second day, " the doctor announced, as he mountedhis horse and settled his saddlebags. "A sad thing for all of us. " Rachel wiped her eyes with the end of herstout linen apron. "I shall take Primrose back to Wetherill farm. " "Oh, that will indeed be a relief. She and Faith, I foresee, would notget along together, and I could not manage such a froward child. " Andrew made no reply. There was a little more work devolving upon him, and he deputed the rest of the day's management to Penn. He had fortified himself with many arguments as to why Primrose shouldreturn to her great aunt, but to his surprise, his father assented atonce. He was much worried about his wife, who had never been ill before. Primrose was glad with a great delight. She sat under the tree withFaith and roused the child's envy with accounts of her life in town, andthe time for pleasure. "But dost thou not sew or knit?" "Nay, except lacework and hemstitching, but I shall as I grow older. There is Patty to sew, and as for stockings, I do not know how theycome, for no one knits them, and they are fine and nice, with gay clocksin them, and oftentimes silken. I like the pretty things. But allFriends are not so plain. Some come to us with silken petticoats andsuch gay, pretty aprons, just like a garden bed. " Faith sighed. And now she wished Primrose might say, there was suchwitchery in her words. Madam Wetherill was much surprised to have Primrose return so soon, butnot sorry, she frankly admitted. She was greatly concerned about FriendHenry and hoped the fever would not be over troublesome. "Good-by, little one, " Andrew said, holding her hand. "I hope thou wiltbe very happy; and I shall come to hear how it fares with thee. " Did she pull the stalwart figure down with her small hands? He bent overand kissed her and then blushed like a girl. "Fie, Primrose! Thou art a little coquette, and learning thy lessonyoung!" "But I like him very much, " she replied with brave seriousness. "Only--it's pleasanter to live with thee, " and she hid her face in MadamWetherill's gown. CHAPTER X. TO TURN AND FIGHT. James Henry mended slowly, and Lois' fever lasted a month before shecould leave her bed, and then she could only totter about. Rachel hadproved herself a daughter of the house, efficient, thoughtful, andcapable, and although a few weak protests had been made, it was anundeniable relief not to have Primrose to consider. The town had been stirred to the utmost by conflicting views andparties. Washington had gone to Boston to take command of the troops, and now sent for his family from their quiet retreat at Mount Vernon. Most of the people had shut up their country houses and come into town, and now that it was announced that Mrs. Washington would make a briefstop on her way to Cambridge, there was a curious feeling pervading thecommunity in spite of a very pardonable interest. What if the war shouldbe a failure? "But we have committed ourselves too deeply to draw back now, " said someof the loyal women. "Let us pay her all courtesy. " The rebel party resolved to give a ball in her honor at New Tavern. Mrs. Hancock was also in the city, and some fine preparations were made. There was a heated discussion. Some of the more sedate people, who nevertook part in gayeties, represented that this would be a most inopportunetime for such a revel when the country was in the throes of a mightystruggle. Christopher Marshall, who was a Quaker by birth, but had espoused theside of the colonies warmly, went to John Hancock, who was thenPresident of the Congress, and requested him to lay the matter seriouslybefore Mrs. Washington and beg her to decline the invitation, "while herbrave husband was exposed in the field of battle. " She assented mostcheerfully, and was in no wise offended. There was a bevy of women discussing this at Madam Wetherill's; theyoung ones loud in their disappointment, as gayeties had not been veryfrequent so far. "And I like Colonel Harrison's spunk in chiding Mr. Samuel Adams, " saidsomeone. "He agreed there would be no impropriety in it, but rather anhonor. And we should all have seen Lady Washington. " "_Lady_ forsooth! I did not know the widow Custis had put on such airswith her second marriage. Presently we shall hear of Mount Vernon palaceif Dunmore does not make short work of it. And some of the rebels sneerat good English titles, or think it heroic to drop them. " Mrs. Ferguson was well known for her Tory proclivities. She ran hercards over as she held her hand up, and the excellence of it pleasedher. "But I am desperately disappointed, " declared Kitty Ross. "And if we areto go in sackcloth all winter I shall die of the megrims. There is mynew petticoat of brocaded satin, and my blue gown worked with white andsilver roses down the sides, and across the bosom, with such realnessyou would declare they were fresh picked. And lace in the sleeves thatmy great-grandmother wore at the French Court. And surely there would bemany gallants ready to dance. I am just dying for some merriment. " "Not much will you see until this folly is over. " "It does not seem to end rapidly. I hear the men at Boston are verystanch and in earnest since the murder of their brethren. " "Murder indeed! Truly we have grown very fine and sensitive. They had nomore than they deserved. And Massachusetts hath ever been one of themost turbulent provinces. " "And Virginia a firebrand! As for us, we have the Congress, and I hearthey are talking of putting some sort of declaration in shape. And it issaid General Washington hath a very soldierly and honorable mind. Hewill do nothing for pay, it seems, and only agreed that his expensesshould be met. At this rate he will not beggar the country. " "And you will see how General Howe will make mincemeat of his stragglingarmy. Madam Washington will hardly be recompensed for her journey, methinks, " said Mrs. Ferguson. "Yet it would be good to have a sight of her, " cried Sally Stuart. "Andit is said she dances elegantly, as do all Virginians. Like Kitty, I amout of conceit with the wisdom of these fearsome men who want to suiteverybody and end by suiting none. And it seems there hath been adivision of opinion about calling. Who hath gone?" and Sally glanced atMrs. Ferguson with a merry sort of malice in her laughing eyes. "Not I, indeed, you may be certain, but I will not be backward on herreturn, I assure you. " "I have been, " announced Madam Wetherill quietly. "I thought it but aduty, having met Colonel Hancock and wishing to be presented to hiswife. " "Oh, tell us!" cried half a dozen voices. "What is she like--very grand?For he is fine and commanding. " "We shall never finish our game with so much talk about everybody, "declared one of the Tory ladies in vexation. "She is not commanding. " Madam Wetherill laid down her card as shesmiled, and trumped her adversary. "But she hath a certain dignity andintelligence that makes up for inches, and a face that is winning andexpressive, with fine, dark eyes and fair skin showing just a naturalblossom on her cheek. And her manners are most agreeable. I am sorry wecould not have given her some sort of welcome. Well, moppet?" asPrimrose entered shyly with a written message to her great aunt, "makeyour best courtesy, child, and tell the ladies how you liked MadamWashington. " Primrose obeyed with a pretty flush on her cheek, and an irresistiblyshy manner. "I liked her very much. And she said she once had a little girl of herown, and then her eyes looked almost as if they had tears in them, theywere so soft and sweet. Her face was beautiful. " "Well, well, we all feel disposed to envy thee, " said Sally. "Some of usshould have the courtesy to go to-morrow. " Mrs. Ferguson rapped on the table. "If no one means to pay attention tothe game we may as well give up and devote ourselves to laudation, " shesaid shortly. Madam Wetherill looked at the note and said, "Yes, " and Primrose, courtesying, stole out softly. But afterwards the game was ended with agood deal of curtness on Mrs. Ferguson's part, who had lost; for, whilepeople were strenuous enough on some points, no one disdained to playfor money. The girls stopped for a cup of chocolate that Mistress Janice sent in, and renewed the talk of their disappointment, bewailing the prospect ofa dull enough season. But there were much excitement and high and bitter discussions to markthe winter. The breach between the war party and the peace party ofQuakers widened greatly, and the outcome was the Free Quakers, orFighting Quakers, as they came to be called. The departure of theBritish from Boston was hailed as a sign of hope. Thomas Paine's "CommonSense" was widely read, and disputed the palm with Dickinson's "Farmer'sLetters" that had been so popular. Adams and James Allen, who disagreedwith Paine, issued pamphlets, and many writers aired their opinionsunder various assumed names. Andrew Henry came in regularly to market. His father had not regainedhis full strength, and his leg was rather untrustworthy in slipperyweather. Now and then he paused at some tavern, as they were consideredrespectable meeting places, to hear the discussions, for he was muchperturbed in these days. He was made a welcome guest at MadamWetherill's also, and met from time to time some notable person, andbecame much interested in Mr. Benjamin Franklin. Very little had been said about Primrose at home. Rachel was growinginto daughterhood, and though Lois Henry would have denied theslightest suggestion of matchmaking, she saw with no disfavor thatRachel was much drawn toward Andrew. When spring opened grandmother failed rapidly and took to her bed agreat part of the time, so that it was necessary to bring her downstairsfor convenience' sake. It would be rather troublesome to have adiscordant element, and the Henrys felt that Primrose was more firmlyestablished in her willful ways, no doubt, and they did not care for acontinual struggle like that which had begun and ended so disastrouslythe preceding summer. The spirit of revolt had gained ground in all the Colonies; still it hadbeen hard work to persuade them to act together. But, in May, Congresspassed resolutions leading to the better equipment of the Colonies forthe struggle. At dinners--the only sources of amusement now--the King'shealth was no longer drunk, but "The free and independent States ofAmerica" were toasted with acclaim. With the old Assembly the politicalpower of the Friends waned, and Philadelphia was taking upon herself agreat and serious change. If Bunker Hill had electrified the country, the Declaration of Independence, read to the few people who gathered tohear it at the State House, was to be the imperishable crown of thecity, although it was not signed until August. The King's arms were taken down and burned, the church bells rang, andthe young people caught the enthusiasm from a few bonfires on the squareand lighted them elsewhere, little thinking they were kindling a flamein men's souls that was to be handed down to posterity for ages. A verysmall beginning then, but among the hearers was Andrew Henry, whowondered mightily at the boldness of such a step, though the glory of itthrilled every pulse, and he was amazed at the fighting blood withinhim. At the yearly meeting he and his father had attended, the Friends hadcounseled against open rebellion and shown each other the futility ofsuch a step. All acts of violence and bloodshed were deprecated, andLexington and Concord pronounced a useless sacrifice, and displeasing toGod. But in the little knots that had gathered afterward there had beenmore than one low, dissentient voice concerning a man's duty, and theimpossibility of a government so far away knowing what was best for theColonies. He was to meet Madam Wetherill, who had come in to her city home on somebusiness. "I am glad thy father agrees about Primrose, " she began in her cordialtone, that invariably charmed the young Quaker. "Her attire, too, had anappropriate aspect in his eyes, as it gave her a fine dignity. He wassecretly pleased that she was not of his persuasion. The changes arehard on the child even if all other matters were in accord. I think shewill never be of her father's faith, but she is sweet and attractive andgood at heart. I am afraid we sometimes lay too much stress on outwardappearances. Is thy mother well this summer?" "She is not as strong as she was, and we should not know how to managewithout my cousin Rachel. Poor grandmother is nearing the close of herearthly pilgrimage. She may go at any time. Dr. Reed hath given usnotice, and death is a sad and awesome matter even for little ones. Somother said she would rather have no added cares, though she would notshirk any duty. " "Set her heart quite at rest. Tell her for me that the duties of God'ssending are first. I have been consulting the other trustees, and theythink the child is as well with me. " "I think, now, better, " returned Andrew gravely. "She is fitted for awider life and knowledge than my father thinks necessary. And we havetwo girls now to comfort my mother, and they are of the same faith. ButI find there is a wide line of opinion even among Friends. And thecoming struggle will make it greater still. The town hath done a daringthing to-day. Will the great and wise men sign the document?" "I think all but a few. They are not certain of Mr. Dickinson, althoughhe hath been writing so boldly. But Mr. Richard Penn advises that theyall hang together, lest they may have to hang separately!" and shesmiled. Andrew Henry drew a long breath. "But it hardly seems possible they can win. England can put such armiesin the field. " "Yet I think we have shown that patriotism can make good soldiers. Therewill be much suffering and Heaven only can foresee the end. Still it isa glorious thing, and we shall strive hard for freedom. " "Thou art a patriot surely. The little girl must inherit some of thyblood, for she boldly declared herself a rebel. " "She is an odd, spirited child, with a good deal of her mother'scharming manner. I have grown very fond of her, though I thought myselftoo old to take up new loves. Thou must come down to the farm sometimeand see her. " "That I will gladly, " was the quick reply. "And thou must study this matter thou hast heard to-day. It is a greatthing to make a country, and a trust above all others to keep it intact. And, though thy people are averse to fighting, I see some of them haveranged themselves already on the side of liberty and the colonies. " "I have a great interest----" Then he paused and flushed. "But it growslate, and I must bid thee farewell. Give my respects to the little girland say I do not forget her. " Every effort was now made to strengthen the defenses, and a bounty wasissued for volunteers. Gun-boats were ordered for the river front andthe manufacture of gunpowder was hurried along. There was muchwatchfulness over those suspected of Toryism, or caught carrying awaystores. Occasionally one saw a cart packed with Tories, seated backwardand being driven along to the tune of the Rogue's March, and jeered bythe populace. Late in the autumn they buried Lois Henry's mother. James Henry gave upmore of the severe work and going about to the young men. Penn Morganwas large and strong, and grown very fond of his uncle in an admiringfashion. Andrew puzzled him oftentimes. Pinches were beginning to be felt and a great part of the commercelanguished. Salt, one of the importations, became very scarce. Storesand shops were dull enough, and men hung about the streets with nothingto do. In November came the news of Howe's successful march and the taking ofFort Washington. Then he swept onward, dismaying the towns, and when hereached Trenton he issued a proclamation that won over many who stillhoped in their hearts that by some miracle the colonists would win. But Philadelphia celebrated the anniversary of her heroic Declaration ofIndependence with much firing of guns all day and a great civic banquetin the evening. The streets wore quite a holiday aspect. Many peoplecame in from the farms and residences at a distance, and flags, madeafter the pattern that Betsy Ross had designed for the army when GeneralWashington went to Boston, were shown in some houses. There was also a smashing of Quaker windows, and much hooting at thepeace men, who were bidden to come out of the shelter of theirbroadbrims. A new oath of allegiance had been exacted from the citizens of the wholeState that created great consternation among the Friends. Many nowopenly espoused the cause of freedom, being convinced it was a duty, andtheir expulsion from the ranks followed. Even among the women there wereenthusiastic souls who gave aid and comfort in the years of trial thatwere to follow. James Henry had ranged himself strongly on the peace side. Indeed thehousehold were a unit with the exception of Andrew, who held his temperbravely when the talk was of the condemnatory order. There had been no open rupture on the little girl's account. In a wayJames Henry resigned some of his powers, though he kept the trusteeship, and was sharp to see to the accounting of money matters. Madam Wetherilland Primrose made journeys to the Quaker farmhouse, and the Henrys werecordially invited to the city to test the Wetherill hospitality. Primrose had listened to Andrew's persuasion, and in the summer gone forseveral days. How queer it all seemed to her! The plain, homely rooms, the absence of the many little courtesies to which she had becomeaccustomed, the routine of work that left no leisure for reading orenjoyment. For already in the city there was a great deal ofintelligence. She had grown tall, but was very slim and full of grace in everymovement. Her hair still held its sunny tint, and even if combed asstraight as possible, soon fell into waves and curling tendrils, and hercomplexion was radiant in pearl and rose. Rachel was quite a young woman, with a thin, muslin Quaker cap over herbrown hair, and not the slightest attempt at ornament; a great workerand very thrifty in her methods. In her opinion idleness was a sin. Faith had grown tall, but was not as robust. Primrose was like a sudden sunbeam in the old house. Her merry laughrippled everywhere. As of old, every animal on the place made friendswith her. And though Uncle James looked stern and sour at times, shewould not heed his frowns. Not only Andrew, but Penn, acknowledged her witching sway. She couldride finely now on horseback or with a pillion, and the cunning littlebeauty persuaded one or the other to take her out on numerousexcursions. "One could envy thee heartily, " declared Faith. "For when Rachel and Idesire any recreation or to go of some errand, there are a thousandexcuses. What coaxing art hast thou? And how dost thou come by so muchprettiness? Was it on thy mother's side?" "Am I so pretty?" She laughed in a gay, amused fashion. "Sometimes Pattysays I shall grow old and yellow and wrinkled, but though AuntWetherill's hair is snowy-white, and there are tiny marks and creasesin her skin, she is not yellow nor cross, and looks like the mostbeautiful of queens in her brocades and satins. " "But what is a queen if there are no thrones here in America?" "Oh, how dull thou art! It is because we call anyone a queen who is abeautiful and dignified woman, and can receive with graciousness, andhold a little court about her. " "But the fine clothes are vain and wicked. And--and plaiting of thehair, and the much pleasuring--and the giddy talk----" The small Quakeress paused with a sort of longing and envy that shecould think of no more sins. "But my hair is not plaited. I think the good God curled it just as hemakes the pretty vine creep up and twine about. And He makes a gay, beautiful world, where birds go flying and dazzle the air with theirbright colors. Dost thou know the firebird, with his coat of red, andthe yellow finches and the bluebirds? The little brown wren greets themin her pert way, and I dare say takes pleasure in them. And how manyflowers you find in the woods and the meadows. " "I never go for flowers. It is a sinful waste of time, and we have nouse for them, since they do but litter everything. And thou wilt someday be called to account for these idle, frivolous moments. " "I do not know. I think God means us to be happy. And I cannot helpbeing gay and pleased with all the things He has made. It is verynaughty and unkind to despise them. " Faith knew in her heart there were many things she would be glad tohave, and that she hated to sit in the house and spin and sew, whenPrimrose was roaming around with Penn and Andrew, and riding on the haycart amid the fragrant dried grass. "Andrew, wilt thou always be a Quaker?" Primrose asked one evening whenshe found him sitting under the tree where poor old grandmother hadspent so many of her days. "Always? Why, I suppose so. Children generally follow in the footstepsof their fathers. " "Is that because you are a man?" "I like _thou_ better, " smiling and putting his arm about her. "But I am only half a Quaker. Do you think my father truly meant me tobe? There is a fine picture of him at Mr. Northfield's that is said tobe worth a great deal of money, and was made in England by a great man, and is sometime to go over again. Did you know I had a brother, Andrew?" "Yes. " "It seems very unreal. A letter came one day from him, and he asked ifthere were any other children alive. A brother! How strange it sounds!Why, it would be like Penn and Faith. " "I hope he may never want thee, " with a little hug that made her headdroop on his shoulder. "Oh, no; and if he does, he must come here. I should be afraid of thegreat ocean that it takes days and days to cross. And I might bedrowned, " plaintively. "Then thou shalt never cross it. " "Thou wilt not let him take me away? Though I think Aunt Wetherill wouldnot consent. " "Nay, I would fight for thee. " "Then thou must fight for the country. It is _my_ country. " "If any need comes in thy behalf I will fight, " he returned solemnly. "And thou wilt put on some fine soldier clothes. The men all look sohandsome in their blue coats and buff breeches, and the hats turned upin a three-cornered way. " She only saw the glory in it. He hoped she might never know the otherside. "What art thou studying about so gravely?" when Primrose lapsed intosilence and let her small white hand lie in his brown one. "I was thinking. Penn is here, and does your father need two sons? AuntWetherill said, one day, that you were wasted on the farm, and that someof the generals ought to have you for your cool clear head, and yourstrength, and oh! I do not remember what else. And if you would comeinto town----" "If thou were older, Primrose, thou couldst tempt a man to his undoing. But thou art a sweet, simple child. And when my country needs me shewill not ask about my faith. Already there is more than one Quakersoldier in her ranks. " "Primrose!" Rachel had been sitting on the old stone step until thereseemed a curious fire kindled all through her body at the sight of thegolden head on the broad shoulder. "Primrose, come in. The dew isfalling. " "There is no dew here under the tree, " returned Andrew. "It is high bedtime. Faith is going. Come!"--peremptorily. There were times when Primrose was fond of teasing Rachel, but she rosenow. When she had gone a step or two she turned around for a kiss. "I am ashamed of thee!" Rachel said sharply. "Thou art a bold child tohang around after men. Didst thou kiss him? That was shameful. " "It was not shameful. I will ask him----" Rachel caught her arm. "Aunt Lois will be shocked! No nice little girldoes such a thing! Faith would be whipped for it. Go straight along. " She blocked the way, and Primrose, in her sweet hopefulness, thought ofto-morrow. Aunt Lois had overheard the talk. When Rachel had mixed the bread, forChloe had a sore finger, the elder said gravely: "Thy uncle goes over to Chew House to morrow, and I think Primrose hadbetter return home. She is too forward and light to have with Faith. Ilike not city manners and freedoms. Her mother was not to my fancy. Menare weak sometimes, but I hope ere long, Rachel, my son's fancy will befixed where it will afford me great satisfaction. " Rachel colored with a secret joy. She could have clasped the mother toher heart for the admission, but she would not spoil the commendation byany lack of discretion. While Primrose was waiting for Uncle James in the morning she ran out tothe barn. "Andrew, I am going. It hath been very pleasant, and I hoped thou wouldhave taken me. Andrew"--with a strange, new hesitation--"is it--is itwrong to kiss thee?" She looked up out of such clear honest eyes in all their sweetguilelessness that he took the fair face between his hands and kissed itagain. "Nay, there could never be a wrong thought in thy sweet young heart. Andthou art my cousin. " She wondered, as she was retracing her steps, if he kissed Faith andRachel, since they were cousins. CHAPTER XI. A RIFT OF SUSPICION. Lois Henry had no especial fear of any serious matter with such a merechild as Primrose, as she was far too young. But she had been trained ina repressed, decorous fashion, and many of the Friends were as rigorousas the Puritans. Young men were better off without caresses, even frommother or sister. And she was compelled to acknowledge within herselfthat Primrose had a large share of what she set down as carnal beauty, the loveliness of physical coloring and symmetry. Neither of the Morgangirls would ever be temptingly pretty, and she gave thanks for it. Rachel would make a thrifty and admirable housewife. She could not wishher son a better mate. Andrew would be needed on the farm, which wouldbe his eventually, and she would have no difficulty in living with sucha daughter-in-law. But she resolved that the old arrangement, whereby Philemon Henry'sdaughter was to spend the summers with them, should remain no longer inforce. She did not ask that her husband should view the matter at oncethrough her eyes; she knew a quiet, steady influence would better gainher point than an outspoken opposition. James Henry was rather surprised when she proposed that he should takePrimrose home, as they had begun to call Madam Wetherill's. "There is no great haste, " he replied. "But thou art going at least half-way there, and it was to be merely avisit. Thou must see, James, that all her ways and habits are verydifferent, and our good seed would be sown on sandy ground. When thechild comes to be a year or so older we may have more influence, andpresently, I think, Madam Wetherill may tire of her. She distracts Faithwith her idle habits and light talk, and just now we are very busy withthe drying of fruit and preserving, the spinning, and the bleaching ofwhite cloth, as well as the dyeing of the other. It takes too much of mytime to look after her. And, since my illness, I have not felt equal tothe care of doing my duty to her. " "Certainly; as thou wilt, wife. I foresee that we shall gain no greatinfluence over her, since every season our work must be undone. And Iwill discuss the matter with Friend Chew. If he considers that some partof the duty may be abrogated, we will not push our claim at present. " Friend Chew thought there was nothing really binding in the agreement. Philemon had requested that his wife and daughter should spend a part ofthe year with his brother, but here had been the mother's fortune andthe appointment of a new guardian. And since Madam Wetherill had afortune and so few relatives, perhaps it would be as well to allow hersome leeway. The good lady was surprised at the speedy return. She ordered somerefreshments for James Henry and begged that the horses might have arest. Then they talked of farming matters and the state of the country, hoping hostilities might be confined where they had their firstoutbreak, mostly to the Eastern Colonies and New York. "Thou dost know that I am bitterly opposed to war, " he said. "It isunchristian, inhuman, and we cannot think to conquer the British armies, therefore it is folly. I was sorry enough to see the town William Pennreared on peaceful foundations with the service of God, turn traitor andrange herself on the side of the King's enemies. Many a Friend, I hear, had his windows destroyed in that ungodly rejoicing a short time ago, and men of peace have been persecuted and ridiculed. We know little ofit on our far-away farm, but Friend Chew hath kept account of bothsides. And the rebel lines seem to have fallen in hard places. " "We must give thanks that it hath come no nearer. " She would not arguenor offend him, for the sake of Primrose. "There is another matter, " he began, after a few moments of silence, occupied in sipping his ale and munching some particularly nice waferbiscuits that Janice Kent had made quite famous around the country side, and though she willingly gave the recipe, no one could imitate themexactly. "It is about the child. It hath been a matter of consciencewith me whether I ought to expose her to the temptations of the world, but since I cannot by law keep her altogether----" And he hesitated amoment. "We have not quarreled about her since the judges made the decision, though thou knowest I would like to have her altogether, " and MadamWetherill smiled amicably, sipping her ale to keep him company. "Itseems folly, like the man's two wives who plucked at his hair, the firstto take out the white ones and the other the black. " "There was the illness last summer, and I think my wife hath not beenso strong since, and we have two girls----" "And since good fortune brought them to thee and I have none, I shallbeseech thee to waive thy claim, and let me keep the child. I know ourways are different, but if presently she should choose thy faith, --andwe have many of thy persuasion dropping in, --and desire to return tothee, I will be quite as generous and kindly as thou hast been, and notoppose her. " "That is as fair as one can expect, " the man said with a sigh. "I wouldmy brother had lived and managed the matter. Friend Chew thinks therewill be hard times before us all, especially those who have laid uptreasure in perishable money. " "But, whatever comes, I shall care for her to my last penny. " "And if thou shouldst die, as we are but mortal, the best of us, wiltthou transfer her back to us?" "Her guardians will do that. I promise no will of mine shall be left tooppose it. " "And that she shall visit us now and then. " "I agree to that. " "We are busy now--thou knowest the many things that press in thesummer--and two children of an age are troublesome unless brought uptogether. So we thought it best to return her just now. " "And I am glad to have her. There is so much help here that a child'strouble is scarcely noted. " But on his way home James Henry wondered if he had not given in tooeasily to the worldly and pleasing way of Madam Wetherill. She smiled a little to herself as she called Primrose from the summerhouse to say good-by, and to receive some sage advice. "Thou naughty little moppet, " she said when the stout Quaker had riddenaway, as she caught the little girl's hand in hers and gave her a swing, "what didst thou do that thou wert sent home in disgrace?" "Was it disgrace?" The color deepened on the rose-leaf cheek. "Aunt Loisfound no fault, only to call me an idle girl. Faith is busy from morningto night and cannot even take a walk nor haunt the woods for flowers. Rachel is very stern and hath sharp eyes----" Should she confess last night's misdemeanor? But what right had Rachelto condemn it? Cousin Andrew had kissed her in this house. Oh, was sosweet a thing as a kiss wrong? "Truly thou must be set about some task. I think I will have thee taughtto work flowers in thy new silk petticoat, for we shall have no morefine things from England in a long while. And that would be vanity inthe eyes of thy Uncle James. " "I should not like to work every moment. " "Thou art a spoiled and lazy little girl. Does Faith read and spell andrepeat Latin verses, and write a fair hand?" Primrose laughed. "She reads in the Bible slowly. And the Latin UncleJames thinks wicked. I have half a mind to think so myself, it is sobothersome. And the French----" "Thou mayst marry a great man some time and go to the French Court. Perhaps thou wouldst rather spin and churn, and make cheese and soap. But when there are so many glad to live by doing these things it seemskindness to pay them money for it. And so thy Aunt Lois did not reallytake thee to task?" "She did not set me about anything. And Rachel would not let me go tofeed the chickens, nor gather up eggs, which is such fun. " "And what didst thou do?" "Nothing but sit under the tree as the old grandmother used. It was verytiresome. And a walk in the orchard. Then I found a cornfield where Pennwas plowing, and I waited to see him come out of the rows and get lostin them again. " "And did you like this Master Penn?" "He was very pleasant. He showed me a nest with tiny birds in it thatwere naked and ugly, but they grow beautiful presently. And he picked agreat dock leaf of berries, so that I should not get my hands scratched, and we sat down on a stone to eat them. But I like my own cousin Andrewbetter. Penn is not my cousin--Rachel said so. " Madam Wetherill nodded with piquant amusement. Perhaps there had been alittle jealousy. "Well, I am glad to get thee back. I am afraid I spoil thee; MistressKent insists that I do. But there will be time enough to learn to work. And if this dreadful war should sweep away all our fortunes, we shallhave to buckle to, and, maybe, plant our own corn and husk it, and digour potatoes as our fore-mothers helped to when they lived in the cavehouses by the river's edge, before they built the real ones. " "Caves by the river's edge? Did the river never overflow them? And isthat where the Penny Pot stands----" "Who told thee about that?" "I walked there once with Patty. She knows a great many things about thetown. And she said I ought to learn them as I was born here, lest theBritish come and destroy them. " Madam Wetherill smiled at the sweet, earnest face. "They did not destroy New York, but I should be sorry to see them here. And I will tell thee: in that cave was born the first child to thecolonists. He was named John Key, and good Master Penn presented himwith a lot of ground. But I think he should have been called WilliamPenn Key, to perpetuate the incident and the great founder. There aremany queer old landmarks fading away. " "And where were you born?" asked Primrose, deeply interested. "Not here at all, but in England. And I grew up and was married there. Then my husband put a good deal of money in the new colony and cameover, not meaning to stay. But I had some relatives here, and no nearones at home, being an only child. The Wardours did not run to largefamilies. My husband was much older than I, and when his health began tofail, instructed me in many things about the estate. So, when I losthim, I was interested to go on and see what a woman could do. There wasa cousin who was a sea captain and had been to strange places, theIndies it was called then, and the curious ports on the Mediterranean, and brought home many queer things. " "Oh, that is the portrait hanging in the big room at Arch Street, and isCaptain Wardour?" exclaimed Primrose. "And where did he go at last?" "To a very far country, across the great sky. He was lost at sea. " Madam Wetherill sighed a little. How long ago it seemed, and yet, strange contradiction, it might have been not more than a month sinceCaptain Wardour bade her good-by with the promise that it should be hislast voyage and then he would come home for good and they would marry. This love and waiting had bound her to the New World. She had made manyfriends and prospered, and there had been a sweet, merry young girlgrowing up under her eye, which had been a rather indulgent one, and whohad fallen in love with Philemon Henry, and perhaps coquetted a littleuntil she had the Quaker heart in her net he did not care to break ifshe could come over to his faith. It had disappointed Madam Wetherill atfirst, but having had business dealings with him, she had learned torespect his integrity. But as if there seemed a cruel fate following her loves, just as it wassettled for Bessy to come back with her little Primrose, death claimedher. And Madam Wetherill had tried to keep a fair indifference towardthe child since she could not have her altogether, but the little onehad somehow crept into her heart. And now that there were two girls atJames Henry's farm, the wife's own nieces, she could see they would themore readily relinquish her. The sending back of the child seemed toindicate that, though she had only gone for a visit. "Art thou sad about Captain Wardour?" And the little maid looked up withlustrous and sympathetic eyes, wondering at the long silence. "And doyou think he could find my mother and my father? It must be a beautifulworld, that heaven, if it is so much finer and better than this, andflowers bloom all the time and the trees never get stripped by the cruelautumn winds and the birds go on singing. I shall love to listen tothem. But, aunt, what will people do who are like Rachel and thinklistening idle and sinful, and that flowers are fripperies that spoilthe hay and prevent the grass from growing in that space?" "I am not sure myself. " Madam Wetherill laughed at the quaint conceit. There were many gay Friends in town whose consciences were not soexigent, who believed in education and leisure and certainly wore fineclothes, if one can trust the old diaries of the time. But the otherbranch, the people who thought society worldly and carnal, reduced lifeto the plainest of needs, except where eating was concerned. There theycould not rail at their brethren. "Do not bother thy small brain about this, " the elder went on after apause. "It is better to learn kindness to one's neighbor, andtruth-telling that is not made a cloak for malicious temper. I am gladto have thee back, little one, and they will not be likely to need theeat the farm, nor perhaps care so much about thy faith. " The whole household rejoiced. They had grown very fond of Primrose. Often now in the late afternoon Madam Wetherill would mount her horsewith the pillion securely fastened at the back, and Primrose quite assecure, and with a black attendant go cantering over the country roads, rough as they were, to Belmont Mansion with its long avenue of greatbranching hemlocks; or to Mount Pleasant, embedded in trees, that was tobe famous many a long year for the tragedy that befell its young wife;and Fairhill, with English graveled walks and curious exotics broughtfrom foreign lands where Debby Norris planted the willow wand given herby Franklin, from which sprang a numerous progeny before that unknown inthe New World. They would stop and take a cup of tea on the tables set under a tree. Orthere would be ale or mead, or a kind of fragrant posset, with clovesand raisins and coriander seed, with enough brandy to flavor it, and apeculiar kind of little cakes to be eaten with it. Discussions ran highat times, and there was card-playing, or, if water was near, the youngpeople went out rowing with songs and laughter. A lovely summer, and noone dreamed, amid the half fears, that from the town to Valley Forge wasalways to be historic ground. "Madam Wetherill has grown wonderfully fond of that child, " said MissLogan. "And what eyes she hath! They begin to look at you in a shy way, as if begging your pardon for looking at all; then they go on like asunrise until you are quite amazed, when the lids droop down like anetwork and veil the sweetness. And a skin like a rose leaf. It is saidher mother had many charms. " "And her father looked courtly enough for a cavalier. There is aportrait of him that Mr. Northfield hath stored away, that is to be sentto England to the son by a former wife. Though I believe the great hallthe boy was to inherit hath a new heir, the old lord having married ayoung wife, 'tis said. The lad sent word that he would come over, butnothing hath been heard, and now there are such troublous times upon theocean. " "Nay, England is mistress of the seas. And a new recruit of troops isbeing sent over. Some think Virginia will be the point of attack. " There was but little news except that by private hands. No telegramcould warn of an approaching foe. In July Washington, leaving a body oftroops on the Hudson, pushed forward to Philadelphia, where he met, forthe first time, the young Marquis Lafayette, who had been so fired withadmiration at an account of the daring and intrepidity of the Americansin confronting a foe like England, and declaring for freedom, that hecrossed the ocean to offer his services to the Continental Congress. The British fleet under Sir William Howe did not ascend the Delaware, aswas anticipated, but landed at the Chesapeake Bay and were met byWashington on their march up, and after a day's hard fighting, at Chad'sFord, Washington was compelled to retreat with many killed and wounded, among the latter the brave young Frenchman. And then the city had itsfirst bitter taste of war, and all was consternation. Many packed uptheir valuables and fled, others shut up their country houses and cameinto town. General Howe crossed the Schuylkill, intending to winter atGermantown, but, after the battle there, in which he was victorious, resolved to place his army in winter quarters at Philadelphia. Promise was given that all neutrals should be respected in property andperson. The advent of the English was regarded with conflictingemotions. There were stately Tories, who held out a hand of welcome;there was a large and influential body of Friends who had resolutelykept to business, having, perhaps, little faith in the ultimate triumphof the colonists. And now the aspect of the town was changed, in a night, it seemed. Officers were sent to the wealthier households, and General Howe finallyestablished himself in the house of Richard Penn. Barracks were hastilythrown up for the soldiers who could not find refuge elsewhere. Madam Wetherill was summoned to her parlor one morning, though, thusfar, she had not been molested. "There are two redcoats, full of gold lace and frippery, " said JaniceKent severely. "In God's mercy they have let us alone, but such fortunecannot last forever. Still they are more mannerly than those who invadedMrs. Wray's, for one of them, a very good-looking officer, asked to seeyou with an air of seeking a favor. But we have hardly chambers enoughto accommodate even a company, so heaven send they do not billet a wholeregiment upon us!" Madam Wetherill gave a little frown. "No, we cannot hope to be let entirely alone. Let me see thy work, child, " to Primrose. "Yes, do this part of the rose; it requires lessshading, and keep at it industriously. " Then she went down the broad staircase in stately dignity. The wide doorspace made her visible to the young man, who had been examining theChinese pagoda standing on a table in the corner. "I must beg your pardon for coming unceremoniously upon you, " he beganin a well-trained voice that showed his breeding. "I reached the cityonly yesterday after a variety of adventures, and as it would have takena long epistle to explain my history, I resolved to come in person. There was a connection of yours who married a Mr. Philemon Henry. Ibethink me that the Quakers disapprove of any title beyond mere names, "and he smiled. "Yes, " the lady answered gravely, eying the young man with a peculiarimpression of having seen him before. "I knew Friend Henry very well. " "And you have quite forgotten me? I hoped there would be someresemblance. I have been in this house as a little lad with mystepmother----" "It is not--oh, yes! it must be Philemon Henry's son!" "That was my father, truly. I had thought some day to come over, when Iheard there was a little girl still living, my half-sister. And Iremember I was very much in love with my pretty, winsome stepmother. Itook it rather hard that I should be sent to England. And, as eventsturned out, I might have been as well off here in the city of my birth. " "Pray be seated, " rejoined Madam Wetherill. "This is singular indeed. " "Allow me to present to you my friend, Lieutenant Vane, who is inGeneral Howe's army, where I expect soon to have a position myself. Ihope, madam, you are not too bitter against us?" "There will be time to discuss that later on, " she answered in a guardedtone. "Yet I am almost surprised to find thee in arms against thyfather's country. " "I suppose he would have been a peace man. I have memories of a tall, rather austere person, yet of great kindliness, but it was the pretty, playful stepmother that made the most vivid impression. And now tell meof the little girl. Where is she?" "In this house. In my care partly. She has two trustees, or guardians, besides. One is your father's brother, James Henry, who lives not farfrom Germantown. But I forget--you know nothing of our localities. " "An uncle! Really that had slipped my mind. And has he any family?" "One son of his own. A youth and two girls, orphans, whose mother washis wife's sister, have a home there. They are Friends of the quitestrict order. " "I must find them. My remembrance of him had faded, but I think I dorecall his coming in to dinner at my father's. So my little sister ishere? I have said the name over many times. Primrose. Is she as pleasingas the name? If she favors her mother she must be pretty enough. " "She is very well looking, " was the quiet answer. "And somewhat of an heiress. " "No one can tell about property in such times as these. I am sorry thoushouldst have been disappointed in this respect. " The young fellow shrugged his shoulders and smiled with a kind of gayindifference. "A young woman when Sir Wyndham was up at London captured him. He hadgone many a time and had his yearly carouse with no danger, but she madehim fast before he could fairly escape. She pays him much outwarddevotion. There was a great family of girls and they were glad to gethomes, having little fortune, but being well connected. Then her child, being a boy, knocked me out altogether; the estate and title going inthe male line. Still, he was generous to me. And being of a somewhatadventurous disposition I thought to enlist in the King's Guard, butthere being a call for men to subdue the rebelling colonies, I decidedto come hither. " "Thy philosophic acceptance speaks well for thee. Few young men couldtake a disappointment so calmly. " "I raved a little at first, " laughingly. "But I was given a journey onthe Continent, and there are chances still. It is said old men'schildren are seldom robust, while I can frolic for a week and remainsound as a nut. " Now that she saw more of him he did resemble his father somewhat, thoughnot so tall and of a more slender build. "Well, " he said presently, veiling his impatience, "am I to see thelittle girl?" "Julius, " to the hall boy, who was shooting up into a tall lad, "goupstairs and ask Mistress Primrose to come down to me. " The child entered shyly, Julius having announced "two Britisherredcoats" with bated breath and wide-open eyes. She walked swiftly toMadam Wetherill's side. "This is little Mistress Henry. Primrose, thou hast inquired about thybrother. This is he. Hast thou taken thy father's name?" "I have added Nevitt to it. In a certain way I am still an appanage ofNevitt Grange--next of kin and in the succession. My sweet littlemaiden, I am your half-brother from England, and I knew and loved yourmother. " He crossed over to Primrose and would have taken her hand, but she clungcloser to Madam Wetherill, looking at him with half-frightened eyes. "Nay, do not be so doubtful, my pretty child. If I have convinced yourprotectress, and I think General Howe has sufficient credentials tovouch for me, you may safely acknowledge me. At least, shake hands. Iwill prove the kindest of brothers if you do but give me a chance. " She glanced questioningly at her aunt and then ventured one small hand, while her cheeks flushed in a delicate pink. He bent over and carried the hand to his lips. "We must be friends, little Primrose, for now we shall see a good dealof each other, I hope. Will you not give me one smile? As I rememberyour mother, she was most generous of her sweetness. " "The child is strange of course. And she hath not heard much about you. " "Is it truly my brother?" She glanced up at Madam Wetherill as if notconvinced. "I have no doubt. I think I had an impression at once, " smiling. "Andwhen she is better acquainted----" "But I do not like General Howe to take possession of our city. Pattysays the streets are full of redcoats and I cannot go out. " She stiffened herself with great dignity, and now she looked squarely athim out of beautiful eyes. "Who may Patty be? And you will see that General Howe has a right to behere. He will soon settle the rebels if he keeps on as he has begun. " "I am a rebel. And your general shall not conquer me. He is cruel andwicked!" "Primrose!" said her aunt, though much amused. "You have found a foe already, " laughed Gilbert Vane. "One you cannotfight, but must persuade. " "But my Cousin Andrew has promised to fight for me. He is larger thanyou, and I like him very much. " She looked so spirited and daring that he wanted to clasp her in hisarms and conquer her with kisses. He would soon oust this Cousin Andrewin her affections. "Little girls must not be so fierce, " reproved Madam Wetherill. "We havetalked on all sides and the child hears it. Then some of my old servantsare strong patriots, rebels I suppose they will be called. Your friendis right--a little patience is best for conviction. " "At least you will let me try to win your regard?" and he glancedsteadily at his little sister, but she kept silent. "It is best that girls should not be too forward, or too easily won. Weshall hope to see thee often. Thou wilt meet people of many beliefshere; some ardent Tories, some as ardent rebels, perhaps. I place norestrictions on the beliefs of my friends. Now, Primrose, run away tothy work. I have still a few matters I wish to talk about. " "Surely you will wish me a farewell in a kindly fashion?" exclaimed herbrother. Primrose had walked across the room with great dignity. At the door shepaused to bestow a smile and courtesy on her aunt, then a very dignifiedone on each of the gentlemen, holding up one side of her skirtdaintily. CHAPTER XII. TRUE TO HER COLORS. The American forces had not gone on triumphantly. The two battles, fierce as they had been, had not decided anything. After the battle atGermantown Howe broke up his encampment there and proceeded toPhiladelphia, resolved to make that his winter quarters. To be secureagainst starvation it was necessary to reduce Fort Mercer and FortMifflin, since supplies were to be brought into the city that way. Washington prepared to go into winter quarters at Whitemarsh, but latermoved to Valley Forge, that he might the better afford protection to thestores at Reading, and the Congress that had fled to York. The defeatshad cast a gloom over the Continentals, but they were not utterlydisheartened. In spite of his wound the Marquis de Lafayette carriedhimself hopefully, and helped inspire the waning courage of the men. The news of the glorious victory at Saratoga was sedulously kept fromthem for some time. There were quarters to construct, wounded to tend, and winter at hand. Philadelphia was crowded. Hospitals were full, prisons overflowing. TheEnglish settled themselves for the winter, many in the belief that thespring would see the crushing out of the rebellion. In this serene hope they began to cast about for amusements. They foundnot a few of the Tory young women charming and affable. They resolvedupon weekly balls at the city tavern. There were club dinners and gaysuppers at the Indian Queen, and Ferry tavern, that often degeneratedinto orgies. For the ruder sort there were cockpits, where the bettingran high, and no end of dice and card-playing. There was among many ofthe lower classes an insolent revolt against an established order ofthings that had not brought them prosperity, and tradesmen had felt thepinch of hard times severely. The influx of British gold was hailed withdelight, and some timorous souls that had longed for the larger liberty, yet feared the Colonies could never win independence, went over to theother side with sudden fervor. Those of royalist proclivities opened their houses to the gayeties thatswept over the town like sudden intoxication. There were private ballsand dinners and tea-drinking, with no end of scarlet-coated youngofficers, and card-playing was rampant. The shabby little theater onSouth Street was no longer relegated to opprobrium, but put in somerepair and made a place of fashionable entertainment; the versatileEnglishmen turning their hands and their wits to almost anything in thatline, from scene-painting to acting in comedy, farce, or tragedy. It was soon noised about that Madam Wetherill's grand niece and protégéhad a brother among the English officers. Many people could recall thefine old Quaker Philemon Henry, and his pretty second wife BessyWardour. "Surely you are in luck, Madam Wetherill, " said bright, inconsequentSally Stuart. "Will you not be generous enough to give us a peep atthis handsome captain? My mother remembers his father well. And whatdoes the child say to this fine surprise?" "She is not as enthusiastic as one might suppose. " "Ah! I remember; she is quite a little rebel, and her patriotism becomesher well, since she is but a child, but she will mend of that. " "Thou shalt see the young man, with pleasure. I shall choose some of theyoung people who have a hankering for scarlet. " "Well, they are going to give us a gay winter, and, Heaven knows, wehave been dull as ditch water. The theater has been refitted. And thereis talk of racing again and no end of diversion. " So Madam Wetherill gave a dancing party and asked the favorite youngwomen of the day, since Captain Nevitt had proposed to bring somebrother officers. Miss Franks and Miss Kitty Ross and Betty Randolphwere to be among the belles of the evening, and many were pleading forinvitations. "I hardly know how to manage, " the Mistress said with a sigh to JaniceKent. "Many have had soldiers quartered upon them with hardly a moment'snotice. Mrs. Norris was relieved, it is true, and Lord Cornwallis provedhimself a gentleman. Elizabeth Drinker protested since her husband wasfrom home, but it was not regarded. And we have been favored, whetherfrom the influence of this young Nevitt or not, I cannot decide. I likenot to be so identified with the Tory party, but I cannot be ungraciousto my little girl's half-brother and the child Bessy Henry loved. Ithink he must favor his mother's people; he has not much of the oldHenry blood in him. " "I am not sure it is so bad a thing, madam, for we shall be lesssuspected of kindliness to the poor fellows who need it so much. And wemay hear news to their benefit occasionally. " "Ah, if a turn could be brought about for our brave men! I hear thatMrs. Washington is to join her husband and share his hardships. It willput courage into many a loyal fellow that misfortunes have well-nighdisheartened. " So the great apartment was cleared of some of its ornaments that theremight be more room for dancing, in that and the spacious hall. Primrose had been curiously distant and wary. It had amused her brothervery much, and he teased her about being a little rebel and said heshould take her to England to cure her of such folly and that she shouldbe presented at Court. For certainly the Continentals could not hold outwhen all the principal cities were taken and trade stopped. He was proud of her beauty, and his flattery might have turned the headof almost any child. "I shall insist upon taking her back to England with me, " he announcedto his friend. "And this fine old lady, Madam Wetherill, can be inducedto go along, I think, when she realizes the hopelessness of the cause, for she is, by birth, an Englishwoman. And Primrose, it is true, will bequite an heiress. What a pretty name her mother gave her, and it seemsthat in it she outwitted my father. He was one of the strait sort as Iremember him, and my pretty stepmother planned many a bit of indulgencefor me, and hid some childish pranks from his eyes that would havebrought severe punishment. " "You have good reason, then, to care for her and love the child. Itseems to me a curious thing that your father should let you goabroad--his only son. " "But, if he had lived, he might have had half a dozen sons. He was ahale, hearty man, much too fine looking for a Friend. You must go withme to see the portrait of him, which, with some other keepsakes, belongsto me. " "And these cousins they talk about?" "Yes, I must pay my respects to them. The days go so rapidly that onedoes not get through half one's plans. I had no idea there was so muchinterest in this old town of William Penn's. The winter will be a merryone. " "It seems not much like war, " returned Gilbert Vane thoughtfully. The party at Madam Wetherill's was a most brilliant affair. It seemed asif every conclave except the Continentals were represented. There werestaid Friends in the rich attire of the better class; some in drab, others in coat and breeches of brown velveteen and silk stockings, andthe younger men with various touches of worldly gauds. There were othercitizens in the picturesque attire of the day, with embroidered satinwaistcoats, powdered hair, and side rolls beside the queue, lace rufflesand gold lace and gold buttons. And the belles were not to be outdone by the beaux. There were gowns ofalmost every degree of elegance, in brocades and glistening satins, wrought with roses or silver thread, turned back over beautifulpetticoats. Gowns of Venise silk and velvet, with elbow sleeves andruffles of rich lace, and square corsages filled in with stiffened lacecalled a modesty fence, through which the younger girls ran a narrowribbon that was tied in a cluster of bows. The hair was worn high on the head, with puffs and rolls held in placewith great gilt or silver pins, and an aigrette nodding saucily from thetop. The elder women had large caps of fine and costly material. Fewwere brave enough to go without, lest they might be accused of apingyouthfulness. There were fans of white, gray, and lavender silk, bordered with peacocks' eyes, and their fair owners needed no Japanesetraining to flirt with them. There had been numerous discussions about Primrose. Her brother longedto see her attired quite as a young lady. "Nay, they grow up fast enough, " protested Madam Wetherill. "And therewill be a host of town beauties to whom you must pay court, who would bejealous of such a chit and think her forward. " "But she dances so beautifully. I can never be grateful enough that youhave had her so well instructed, and brought up a churchwoman. Andreally she must dance. Lieutenant Vane is almost as much smitten withher as I am. " "The more need for me to be careful, then. " "Nay, I shall guard her well, for I want to take her to Englandfancy-free, so that she may have her pick among titles. She is fastoutgrowing childhood. And there is nothing so sweet as an opening bud. " "Mine shall not be pulled open before the time. Remember she hasguardians, and thou art not one. Her Quaker uncle may have a word. Hehath only lent her to me. " "We will settle that with other questions, " the young man repliedlaughingly. That very morning he had brought her in a pair of pretty bracelets thathad delighted her mightily. He clasped them on her slender wrists. "Now you are my prisoner, " he said. "I will not let you go until I havea sweet kiss from your rosy lips. " She turned her cheek to him gravely. "Nay, that will not do. Truly thou art stingy of kisses. And I am thyown brother!" "I am not thy prisoner!" turning her eyes full upon him with a spirit ofresistance. "Yes, indeed. I will get a requisition from General Howe that you shallbe delivered over to my keeping. " "But I will not go. Americans are born free. " "Yes, I have heard that they so declared. And equal, which is veryamusing, seeing there are slaves and work people of all sorts, with nomore manners than a plowboy at home. And elegant women like your MadamWetherill and that charming Miss Franks and the handsome Shippens. Still, I adore thy spirit. " "Thou mayst take back thy gifts. I shall never go to London with thee. " "Oh, Primrose! What does possess thee to be so cruel! I am half a Friendfor thy sake, and our soldiers laugh at my thee and thou. What elseshall I do to win thee?" "Thou shalt fight on the side of my country instead of against it. Icannot love a traitor. " "Nay, I am no traitor. There was no question of this war when I was sentto England. There are many Friends siding with us and longing for peaceand prosperity. It is these in arms against us who have forgotten theirfealty to their King. They are the ones to be called traitors. " "Nay, there is no king here. And many of them came hither to be free andaway from the King's rule, and they have the right to choose. " "What a saucy little rebel! And yet thou art so daintily sweet! Love mejust a little bit because thy mother did. Many a time she kissed me. Andhast thou no word of praise for the bracelets?" "They are pretty, but I will not be a prisoner for their sake, " and hereyes sparkled with resolution and a spice of mischief. "Thou shalt be quite free if thou wilt wear them for my sake and give mea tender thought. Come, can I not be liked a little? I have heard theedeclare an ardent love for the woman Patty. Am I of less account than aserving woman?" There was something persuasive and plaintive in his tone. "Patty makes my clothes and helps me with lessons when they aredifficult, and she knows how to cure earache and pains, and lets me gowith her to do errands, and tucks me up at night. And she has promisedto keep watch that no British soldier shall surprise us. " "It is a long list of virtues truly, but I will see the house is notmolested, and I might help with lessons. As for the earache--I do notthink such pretty ears can ever ache. " There were some quivering lines about her mouth, and now both laughed. "And I will dance with thee to-night. Some day I will come and singsongs with thee. And all I ask is one poor little kiss in return for mygift. " "I would not give away a poor little kiss, " she answered withwell-feigned indignation. "No. Forgive me. It shall be the sweetest thing in the whole wide world. Primrose, I am glad I can never be a lover to sue to thee. Thou wiltwring many a heart. And now I must go. It is a pleasure to me to bringthee pretty gauds, whether thou carest for me or not. " "I do care for thee, " she said softly, a delicious color stealing overher face. "Then one kiss. " She stood up on tiptoe and her soft, rosy lips met his. "Heaven bless thee, little Primrose. Thou art very dear to me. Go showthy gift to Madam Wetherill. I asked her permission beforehand. " She ran to Madam Wetherill's room, holding up both arms. "See!" shecried. "Yes. It is a new fashion, and I said when thou wert old enough forrings and gewgaws there is all thy mother's. But he coaxed so to givethee something. I hope thou thanked him prettily. " She hung her head, while a warm color came into her face, and raised hereyes hesitatingly. "I would not be pleased at first because he said I was a prisoner, andthat Americans were traitors. " "He loves to tease thee, Primrose. Yet he has a deep and ferventaffection for thee. " Primrose hid her face on the ample shoulder. "I kissed him, " shemurmured softly. "Was it very wrong? For he coaxed so about it. " "Why, no, child. Thine own brother? But it is not proper to kiss outsideof one's family, and now thou art growing a large girl and may see manygallants. So be wise and careful. " Patty did her hair high on her head, but Madam Wetherill bade her takeit down again and tie it with a ribbon. And her white muslin dress wasshort and scant, just coming to her ankles and showing the instep of herpretty clocked stockings. There were lace frills to her puffed sleeves, and a lace tucker, with a pretty bow on one shoulder. But it seemed asif she looked more beautiful than ever before. Everybody made much of her. It appeared to be an easy road to CaptainNevitt's heart. Even the handsome Major André, who had come becauseNevitt had talked so much about his little sister and Madam Wetherill, and also because he was likely to meet some of the attractive youngwomen of the town, and "Primrose was like a little fairy for beauty, andthat her smiles were bewitching. " A very great time it was indeed. There were ombre and quadrille tables, piquet and guinea points for the elders, while the black fiddlers in theend of the hall inspired the feet of the younger portion. With thedancing there were jest and laughter and compliments enough to give anovice vertigo. Primrose was daintily shy and clung close to herbrother, of which he was very proud, as she had never shown him quitesuch favor before. Anabella Morris was setting up for a young lady, being nearly two yearsolder than Primrose. Mrs. Morris had taken a certain Captain Decker inher house to lodge, who seemed very devoted to her daughter. She had notsucceeded in capturing a husband yet, but it seemed quite possible withall this influx of masculines. The glowing and attractive description of"Fairemount" given before, as a place "where no woman need go without ahusband, " had not held good of late years. The supper was in keeping with all the rest. There were solids in theway of cold meats served up in various fashions, there were wines of allkinds, and lighter refreshments of cake, floating islands, jellies, whipped sillabubs, curds and cream, and all the delicacies in vogue. There were healths drunk, toasts and witty replies, and, after acomplimentary mention of the hostess, someone asked whether thatpestilent old Quaker Samuel Wetherill was any relative, expressingironical regret that he was not present. Madam Wetherill rose tall and stately, with the most courteousself-possession. "My husband and Mr. Samuel Wetherill's grandfather came from differenttowns in old England, but there may have been some of the same blood intheir veins. And I think if my husband had espoused a cause he believedright, and gave of his means and influence courageously, fought, andshould, perhaps, die for it, I should honor him as a brave man. Forthere will many brave men die on both sides. " There was a moment's silence, then hearty applause without a dissentientsound. And when, toward morning, the servants were carrying away dishes andputting out lights, Madam Wetherill came and jingled three guineas inher hands, close to Janice Kent. "I was thinking of our poor fellows and the sick and wounded to-night, and resolved that when they return to the city they shall have a greaterwelcome than this. And that rampant old Tory Ralph Jeffries, whom Ishould not have asked but for his daughter's sake, insisted upon playingwhen he was half fuddled. He is shrewd enough when sober, but to-night Iwon his guineas. And now I tell thee, Janice, what I will do. These newpeople are ready enough with their play and have plenty of money. Whatever I win I shall lay aside for our poor fellows. " "That is a fine scheme, " and Janice Kent laughed. "We must get out to the farm some day and see if we cannot sendprovisions before these British troops lay hands on it. For it will takea great deal to feed eighteen thousand men, and I doubt if they sufferat any time from honest scruples. " "It was a grand time. There are many handsome young men among them. ButI think that Major André bears off the palm. There is music in hislaugh, and his handsome face is enough to turn a girl's head. They areto act a play, I believe. Miss Becky Franks was talking of it to theShippens. " Madam Wetherill sighed a little. Already the quiet streets of the town had taken on a new aspect. Therewere fiddling and singing in many of the decorous old taverns. Men wereshouting Tory broadsides of ridiculous verse; selling places for theraces, when Tarleton was to ride, as that was sure to draw crowds, orhawking tickets for plays. Women were careful about going in the streetsunattended, and cavaliers became general. A few days later Captain Nevitt came in to escort the ladies out toCherry Farm, as, somehow, many duties and engagements had intervenedsince his arrival until, as he admitted, he was quite ashamed of thelack of respect due his uncle. It was a bright, clear winter day, with asky of wonderful blue, against which the distant trees stood outdistinctly, the hemlocks looking almost black against it. The soldiers'barracks stretched out, giving a strange appearance to the once peacefulcity. Groups of men were lounging idly about, and confusion seemed topredominate. But they soon left the city behind them, and rode along theSchuylkill, where the wintry landscape, leafless trees, and denudedcornfields met their glance, dreary now, but to be ruinous by and by. Primrose had a pony of her own and rode beside her aunt, with herbrother as her guard, while Lieutenant Vane was her aunt's escort. Primrose wore a blue cloth coat and skirt, trimmed with fur, and herwhite beaver hat was tied under her chin. Many women used a thin, silkensort of mask to protect their complexion from wind and dust, but MadamWetherill had discarded it and did not always insist upon Primrosewearing one. Many of the beautiful houses destroyed later on were standing now. A fewhad been taken as outposts for the army, others looked lonely enoughclosed for the season, as it had not been considered prudent to leaveeven the farmer in charge, after the battle of Germantown. "Primrose does credit to someone's training, " Captain Nevitt remarked. "Is it a long ride?" "We are used to this fashion of getting about and hardly think offatigue. It would be a poor weakling who could not stand a few miles. The roads are rough for the chaise. " How pretty she looked in her white and blue. She smiled at him. They hadbeen quite good friends since the night of the dance, though there hadbeen no opportunity of teasing each other. But she was not thinking of his regard nor his pleasure just now. Sheseemed to have changed mysteriously, to have grown out of carelesschildhood, and taken a great deal of thought about the country. Whenshe remembered that General Howe had come with his army to subdue it andthat her brother was in the soldiery she shrank from him. How could shelove him? He had pleaded for her sweet mother's sake, and that touchedher inmost soul. She had listened with frightened eyes and a breathless throbbing of theheart to the account of the battle of Germantown, and her fears for herbeloved country often outran her hopes when she had a quiet time tothink. The servants had been forbidden to tell her the more awesome partof it, only she knew General Washington had been beaten and forced toretreat, and the British hailed it as a great victory. The young lieutenant and the stately dame found many things to talkabout, as well-bred people often do, skirting over the thin places, forby this time he understood that madam's heart was not on the Englishside. But he was confident when it was all over that she would acceptdefeat gracefully. The ascent from the city was gradual. In the distance they noted thesmall gray stone houses, looking frosty in the wintry air, with here andthere a larger one, like the Chew House, to be famous long afterward inhistory. Then they turned aside and lost sight of it. Captain Nevittthought he would like to have been in the fray, but he did not say so. "Thou art very quiet, little one. I have heard people offer a penny forone's thoughts, a big English penny, " smilingly. "Mine do not go as cheap as that, " answered the maiden. "A crown, then?" "I do not think I will sell them. " "Thou art not very much in love with the cousins?" he said presently. She colored quickly and turned her face to him, quite unaware ofbetrayal until he laughed. "Ah, I have thy thoughts without the penny! Is it the tall Quaker cousinmadam talks about, or the other--William Penn?" "His name is simply Penn, Penn Morgan. And he is not an own cousin. Surely it is not strange if I did think about them. " "Do not be offended. I shall like them if they have thy affection. " "Thou hast small mind of thy own if thou takest a girl's whims for thypattern, " she answered with a show of disdain. "Whether I like them ornot is my own affair. And Patty declares I change about with every puffof wind. " "Nay, I shall not believe that until I follow the changes, or they aremade in my behalf. " "Oh, you know why I am cross to you! I cannot like a redcoat! Butbecause my own mamma loved you----" "Primrose, thou art quite too peppery in temper with thy brother, "interrupted Madam Wetherill gently. "The Henrys will think I haveindulged thee ruinously. " She looked up laughingly. The soft yellow hair was blown about her likea cloud, and the great bow under her chin gave her a coquettish air. What a changeful little sprite she was! They were coming in sight of the great barns and outhouses for thecattle, and nestled down among them was the house, looking reallysmaller. A line of blue smoke from the chimney was floating over to thewest, betokening a storm wind not far off. Someone was coming from thebarn, a stoutish man who walked with a cane, and paused to wonder at theparty. "That is your uncle, your father's brother, " said Madam Wetherill. CHAPTER XIII. UNDER THE ROSE. Madam Wetherill made her brief explanation to show why she had venturedto bring two dashing redcoats, in their military trappings, to the homeof the plain Quaker. James Henry looked at his nephew with many lines ofdoubt in his face and evident disapprobation. "I have planned for the last two years to come over, " said the winsomevoice with the sound of glad, merry youth in it that jarred on thesedateness of his listener. "I was waiting for a promotion, and then hadpermission from the King to join General Howe. So I found him inpossession of my native city, and in short order I discovered my littlesister. " "We are men of peace, " returned his uncle gravely. "William Penn foundedhis colony on the cornerstones of peace and equity, and all we ask is tolive undisturbed and away from carnal pleasures and the wantonfripperies of the world. And it pains me to see Philemon Henry's soncome among us in the habiliments of war. Still I suppose thou must dothy duty to thy Master, the King, since thou hast strayed from thyfather's faith. There is no discipline now for children, and they followevil counsel as they will. " "It was my father's will rather than mine. I remember, big boy that Iwas, crying many a night on shipboard for my stepmother's affection andkisses. " "It was an error of judgment, and he hath no doubt bewailed his mistakeif it is given us to sorrow in the next world. But come in. And thoughthou art of the world, worldly, there is much in kindred blood. Come inand take welcome among us. " The keeping room was cheerful with a great fire of logs in the widestone chimney-place. There was a spicy fragrance of pine knots andhemlock. In one corner Rachel Morgan sat at her spinning wheel, with awoman's cap upon her head, and a bit of thin white muslin crossed insideher frock at the neck; a full-fledged Quaker girl, with certain lines ofseverity hardly meet for so young a face. Mother Lois sat beside thefire knitting. She had never been quite so strong since her fever, andFaith had a basket of woolen pieces out of which she was patching someshapely blocks for a bed comfort. She sprang up with a face full of joy. The summers were not so bad, butshe dreaded the long, dreary winters when she had to stay indoors andsew and spin, with none of her own years to speak with. "Oh, Primrose! And is it really thy brother? What a pretty habit thouhast with all the fur, and the hat makes a picture of thee! There is oneupstairs of a great-grandmother, and thou lookest like it, but itbelongs to Andrew and not to our side, and, " lowering her voice, "UncleHenry thinks it vain. Andrew wanted it in his room, but uncle would notlisten. Oh, I am so glad to see thee. I am so lonely, " piteously. The little Quaker girl in her sudden delight had forgotten her superiorvirtue. Her eyes fairly danced as they devoured Primrose. All the othersseemed talking and explaining, so she had dared to step over the tracesin the din. "We have some odd old portraits in Arch Street. If thou couldst visitme, Faith!" "Faith, " said her uncle, "go and call Andrew. I left him threshing inthe farther barn. " Faith rose with sober gravity, running her needle through the patch, andwalked placidly through the room, though she had telegraphed to Primrosewith her eye. And just as she opened the door Primrose gathered up herskirts and, saying, "I will go, too, " flashed along before anyone couldframe a remonstrance. "I wish thou wert here--nay, not that, for thou would be kept straitly, and there would be no pleasure. Rachel has grown severe, and works somuch at her outfitting, for she means to be married sometime. " "Who will she marry?" There seemed no one besides Andrew, and thechild's heart made a sudden fierce protest. "Oh, I do not know. William Frost hath walked home with her when themeetings were at Friend Lester's. All girls marry, I think, and I shallbe glad enough when my time comes. If it were not for Andrew I hardlyknow what would become of me. He is so good. He reads curious books andtells them to me. And sometimes there are verses that I want to sing, they are so sweet--but such things are wrong. Andrew! Nay, hide here, Primrose, " pushing her in a corner. "Andrew, guess what has happened, and who hath come! An elegant soldier in scarlet and gold, and--and--someone thou lovest. I was mad one day when I said I hatedher----" "Not Primrose!" in a surprised but gladsome tone. There was a swift rush and Primrose was in his arms. He did not kissher, but held her so tightly that she could feel his strong heart beat. "Truly, Faith, thou didst not hate me?" she said when released, turningto the girl. The maiden's face was scarlet. "She does not hate thee now, dear, " said Andrew softly. "It was most wicked and hateful! Thou hadst so many joys and prettythings and lessons, and a beautiful face, and then Andrew said thoudidst have the sweetest big heart in all the world and could love me andwould be glad to share thy joys with me. Is it so, Primrose?" Primrose clasped her in her arms and kissed her many times. "I wish thou could come. There are so many things, and it makes no onepoorer by sharing them. " "And then I learned to love thee. We talk of thee until at night, when Ishut my eyes and draw the coverlid about me, I can see thee like a starcoming out in the blue. And Andrew thinks sometime he may take me in onmarket day, when the spring opens, for I would like to see the greatcity. And thou might come to meet us. I think Aunt Lois and Rachel wouldbe angry if I went to Madam Wetherill's. But I am forgetting. Thou hasta soldier cousin, Andrew. " "He is my brother, " explained Primrose with curious dignity. "And--I donot like him to be a King's soldier. " Andrew gave a long whistle of amazement, and studied Primrose so keenlythat she flushed. "Thy brother? Of course, then, being Uncle Philemon's son he is mycousin. Is he not Lord somebody?" "He is Captain Nevitt. And at times I love him, but he teases andthreatens to take me to England, and--and he is to fight our soldiers. It does not seem right, then, to love him at all. Andrew, " looking upout of the softly radiant eyes, "I wish thou wert in his stead. " Andrew Henry was satisfied then. For an instant his soul had been wrungwith jealousy. But his look of tender regard answered hers and bothunderstood. "And I must go see this British cousin. Faith, hand me that brush, evenif it does get used at times on Dobbin's sleek coat. " He brushed the dust of the grain out of his clothes and gave his hair astir with his fingers. "And Primrose hath a pony!" cried Faith. "It is pretty, with great, softeyes! Next summer I shall learn to ride. " She caught the hand of her visitor and pressed it with pervadingrapture. Primrose wondered how she could have grown so different. "Thou hast stayed finely!" said Rachel reprovingly. "It is ever the waywhen two do an errand. And Madam Wetherill will take dinner with us, itis so near noon. The horses must be put out, and Penn and Jonas are downin the wood lot. Go to the kitchen and help Chloe. " There were tears in Faith's eyes, but she dared not even loiter, forRachel's hand was not light when it came with a box on the ear. Therewere so few visitors at the house that this was a great treat, and Faithhated to be shut out. Philemon Nevitt surveyed his cousin with some curiosity and decidedthat the plain young Quaker farmer was no great rival after all in hisyoung sister's favor. For he was not likely to fight for his country, the great test Primrose seemed to require. But when Andrew went out tocare for the horses the two young men asked permission to leave theladies and take a look around. "The country surprises me, " declared Captain Nevitt. "We have heard muchtalk about the wilderness and the forests, and the few towns such asPenn's Colony, which is a much greater city than one could imagine. Andthere is the town the Dutch started, New York, and the Puritan Boston, beside many lesser places that must show wonderful capacity for settlingthe New World. There are industries, too, that have amazed me. 'Tis agreat pity a people doing so well should rebel against all law andorder, and be willing to have their country destroyed rather than yieldwhile they have something to save. " "We shall not agree upon this matter, " Andrew Henry replied with quietdignity. "And since we are of blood kin, we will not dispute. There areother subjects of talk. " "But my uncle is strong for peace, " in a tone of surprise. "Yes. I, too, am for peace, unless manliness and honor goes not with it. And when one has seen wrongs and usurpations creep in gradually, andprivileges taken away--but, " checking himself, "I was not to discusssuch points. We are plain people but we may have some stock, andbrowsing for it, that will interest thee. " The cattle were certainly fine and well fed. There were stacks of hayand piles of Indian corn, great pits of vegetables, and potatoes enoughto feed an army, it seemed. Everything was so well kept, and there was agreat sheepfold with shelter for the flock in storm. "And, now, which way retreated the rebels after their defeat?" askedCaptain Nevitt. "They went on up the Schuylkill, on the other side, to Whitemarsh first, and then to Valley Forge. " "A blacksmithy town?" "There was once an old forge there. It is not a town. " "There seems many comfortable country houses about, as if there might begentry. " "Some of them now are filled with the wounded and the ill. They wereworth seeing in the summer. " Then they discussed horses and found the young Quaker no mean authority. The horn blew to summon them within, where a bountiful feast was spread, to which they all did ample justice and talked of family affairs. Captain Nevitt had another view of his father from his brother'scomprehension of him, and though it was much narrower, not lesscomplimentary than that of Madam Wetherill. Certainly there was nothingto regret on the Henry side. He was beginning to feel proud of theseclean, wholesome people of strong character. When they had risen Madam Wetherill said they must leave presently. Thesky was getting to be rather lowering, with a grayish cloud in the souththat betokened snow, Friend Henry said. "I will go out with thee, Andrew, and see about the horses, " said thelady. "Nay, " interposed Captain Nevitt smilingly. "It is hardly a lady'sbusiness----" "I have some privacy with Andrew, " she returned. "I have had some usefulhints from him, young as he is, and you must know if women are notequipped for soldiering, they make excellent farmers at times. But youmay all come, though if I extract any grand secret from Andrew as to howto double the value of a crop next year, I shall not bruit it abroad, Ipromise you. " Faith looked up wistfully. "Child, " she said, "thou and Primrose go take a little run in the keenair. Thou art not very rosy for a farmer's maid, and Primrose hath beenhoused overmuch of late, our streets are so full of roysterers. " "Faith hath some work----" "Nay, " interposed Madam Wetherill, "ten minutes' run will make her allthe brisker for work. Run along, children; and have a little visit witheach other. " There was something in Madam Wetherill not easily gainsaid. Rachel savedup her displeasure for a scolding presently. Andrew attended the lady to the stalls where the horses had been led. "Thou hast not been in to market of late?" "There had been so much disorder, and I believe a permit is needed. Thenthere have been people about, buying up produce of all kinds. " "Dost thou know anything of the other army?" Her voice was very low. "Somewhat, " in a hesitating tone. "They are likely to need many things. Howe's purpose to attack them wasfrustrated by a timely warning. There may be other warnings as well, forthe army contains many braggarts. And their winter of dissipation, ofgambling and betting and carousing, will not fit them for a springcampaign. I heard it said that Philadelphia was capturing them byallurements, and it may be a poor victory for General Howe. I have afaith--I cannot tell thee of any tangible groundwork, but I feel assuredwe shall win. " "It is dark enough now. " "But there was the splendid capture of Burgoyne, and our army made muchricher by stores sorely needed. Canst thou get things to Valley Forge?" "I know of someone who can, " and he studied her eyes. "Even if it is gold--British gold? It will not stick to anyone'sfingers?" "I will warrant that, " and the delight encouraged her. "I have a small fund that will come in from time to time. Here is alittle bag. It is not much, but it will help. And if I could get needfulthings to them, clothes and blankets? If thou wilt sell provisions to mefor them--thy father keeps a sharp lookout?" "He hath a shrewd mind and far sight. And I would not render him liableto trouble. I think I could manage that way. Oh, madam, I ought to bewith those brave fellows whom nothing disheartens. The general's wifehath left her pleasant, peaceful home to share his hardships. It is _my_country. " "Wait a little and be patient. It is a pity this fine cousin is on thewrong side. It would amuse thee to hear Primrose dispute with him. Now Itrust thee to get this gold thither. " "Thank thee a hundred times for them. There are many loyal hearts intown, as I well know. " "And many disloyal ones. It angers me. Come in some time. Primrose willbe overjoyed to see thee. She is growing tall fast, too fast for mypleasure. I would fain keep her a little girl. " "I am jealous of my cousin, " declared Captain Nevitt coming out to themwith the air of a spoiled boy. "When wilt thou give me a confidence?" "All the way home, " she answered readily. "And I have so many goodpoints I think I shall bet on the next race. How many of you will ride?" "Why do we not have some hunts?" he asked eagerly. "If there is nofighting there must be diversion. " They mounted the ladies and rode up to the door of the cottage to saygood-by. "I shall dream of thee to-night, " Faith whispered to Primrose. The wind blew up colder and sharper. They were glad to get home. Therewas a slight fall of snow and everything was frozen up hard enough tolast all winter. The streets seemed merrier than ever. All the creeks were frozen solid, it seemed, and the Schuylkill was a sparkling white band, winding about. Skating had broken out into fashion, and the prettiest belles of the daywere out with trains of military men at their beck. The river bankswould be lined with spectators, who envied, criticised, and carped. Women were muffled up in furs and carried huge muffs, their wide hatstied down under their chins with great bows, some wearing the silkenmask, in much the fashion of a veil, to protect their skins from frostytouches. The skaters, in skirts that betrayed trim and slender ankles, spun along like a whirl of the wind, or with hands crossed with apartner, went through graceful rocking evolutions, almost like a waltz. The scarlet uniforms of the officers made a brilliant pageant. It wasindeed a winter long to be remembered, and recalled with keen relishwhen the British, with lovers and friends, had flown. Captain Nevitt had insisted upon taking his sister out, as Primrose wasa very fair skater, and, under his tuition, improved wonderfully. Shelooked so pretty in her skating dress with her soft, yellow hair flyingin the wind, and her lovely face half hidden in her hat, to be revealedlike a vision at the various turns. Nevitt had been taken on General Howe's staff for the present. Foiled inhis endeavor to call out Washington by any maneuver, and feeling thatanother battle was quite impossible and useless in the extreme cold, which was more bitter than for years, he too, gave himself over todiversion, and looked leniently on the frivolities of his officers andthe ruder dissipations of his men. The most fascinating game on the ice was skating after a ball. A mancalled the hurlie propelled half a dozen balls along with a long, sharp-pointed stick, between two given points, often far enough apart tomake a trial of speed and endurance. The fortunate one was he or she whocaught a ball before it reached the goal, and then the merriest shoutwould ring out on the air. A tall, fine-looking young fellow in civilian attire had captured two ofthe balls one afternoon and was flying at his most vigorous speed foranother. Primrose had paused for a moment while her brother stopped tochaff a companion. The ball rolled swiftly along, and from some slightinequality in the ice deflected. The arm was outstretched to catch it, and she could not quite remember afterward whether she had stooped, buthe came against her with sufficient force to knock her over. He caughtthe ball and held it up in triumph, with a joyous hurrah, and thenturned to see what the oath and the exclamation meant. "Good Heavens! you have killed her, you brute!" Captain Nevitt criedangrily. "I was under such headway and I had no thought the ball would go in thatdirection. Let us see at once. Is she unconscious? Dr. Shippen is here. I passed him not ten seconds ago. I will find him. " Nevitt took Primrose in his arms, limp and white as a lily. There was alittle circle about them, but the others went on with their gayety. Afall was no such uncommon thing. Dr. Shippen had been out for a little exercise, and withal had somecuriosity to see the mad carnival that had broken out in the staid city. "Ah, it is Madam Wetherill's little girl!" looking sharply at Nevitt. "I thought I had seen the child somewhere, " said the young man who hadcaused the accident. "Can we not take her home at once?" "I am her brother, " was Nevitt's stiff reply. "You have done enoughmischief with your awkwardness. I hope your silly victory repays you. Let me pass, with no further parley on your part. " "What do you think, Dr. Shippen?" "It is a faint, of course. Whether she is more severely injured I cannottell. Let us take her home, for she will be chilled through, and I havean errand in Second Street. " The doctor sat down on a stump to unbuckle his skates. Nevitt had takenhis off a few moments before, but Primrose had begged that they mightskate all the way down. "Can I do nothing to assist?" asked the other. "Go on with your prize-winning, " said the captain haughtily. "You mayrun over someone else if you have good luck. " "You British think you own the town and can order us about like slaves!"was the fiery reply. "Tut! tut! Wharton! Don't get into a fight. You are hotheaded. " "I will not be insulted by any interloper, even if he wears a red coat. "Wharton's face was flushed with anger, and his eyes sparkled withpassion. "Where will a note reach you?" Captain Nevitt was in a flame of anger aswell. "Come along at once! Allin Wharton, go over yonder and cool your tempertalking to the pretty women. And if you are the child's brother, getalong as fast as you can with her, and let us see what it amounts to. Afall like that is enough to knock the breath out of anyone. " Wharton did not attempt to follow them. They hurried on, Nevitt's angergiving him strength. He pressed his face against the cold, white one. "Who was that boor?" he cried passionately. "If my sister is injured Ishall half murder him!" "If you are her brother then you are Philemon Henry's son, and he was aman of peace. I have had a great desire to see you, since your fatherwas a good friend of mine. I heard you had come over, I must say on badbusiness. Here, this turn cuts off some distance, though we have beensquared according to plummet and line; and then down here. Let me takethe child. Is there no sign of returning animation?" They reached the Wetherill house, and its mistress caught sight of themfrom the window. "Oh, Dr. Shippen!" she cried in alarm. "The child has had a fall. Take off her hat and coat. Now let me see!" He laid her on the settle in the hall and began chafing her hands, andordering some restoratives. "Are you sure there are no bones broken?" "Not quite. It really was not that kind of a fall. There, she is comingaround. Now, Madam Wetherill, here is a pepper-pot of a young soldierthat you must cool down with some soothing potions, and I will find theother firebrand. We won't have them shooting each other unless in up anddown warfare. " "I think you will bear witness that I was insulted, " declared Nevitt. "And gave an insult. It is about even. No fighting, therefore. Duelingfor trifles is cold-blooded murder. I ask it for your father's sake. Mylittle dear, wake up from your nap. " "What is it?" Primrose said in a faint voice. "I feel queer. " Then shelapsed into insensibility again. "Take her upstairs if you will, please. And, doctor, what mystery isthere about this mishap? How did it occur? Patty, come hither. " The child opened her eyes again and half smiled. "She will do now, I think; her pulse is stronger. Here is a smallinjury; nothing worse than a sprain, I think. She was run down on theice. Our town goes crazy over a trifle now. The wrist is bruised andsprained. Patty, if you are the owner of so useful a name, undress thechild, but I think she hath no broken bones. " The men retired to the adjoining room while Patty alternately scoldedand petted her young charge. "I hope you will reconsider your threat, " said the doctor. "There aretoo many good uses for life to throw it away foolishly. If you are aKing's man your life belongs to him, and is not to be wasted in a fit oftemper. " Philemon Nevitt flushed with a sense of shame. He had been hotheaded, unreasonable. There was no serious injury, they found. The bruised wrist was to bebound up with the old-fashioned remedy of wormwood and hot vinegar. Andto-morrow Primrose would be all right again. "Do you know this Allin Wharton?" Nevitt asked of Madam Wetherill. "I know his family well, only young people have such a way of growing upthat one loses track of them. He cannot be more than twenty. And wordsbetween you ought not to lead to any serious matter. You should havekept better watch of Primrose in such a crowd. " "I think I ought, " he admitted frankly. "And I was hasty. " He recalledthe fact that he had given the insult, and that the other had the rightto seek satisfaction. In London duels were common enough. But by great good fortune young Wharton called on Madam Wetherill thenext morning to inquire about the mishap to Primrose and found her nonethe worse except a bandaged wrist. "Is it really true that this fire-eating young captain is--what shall Isay? A relative, since this pretty flower is your niece, is she not? AndPolly was so taken with him, but for his red coat, that when I began totalk of him I found I had fallen into a hornets' nest. And now, MadamWetherill, what shall I do? Some hot and hasty words passed between us. Can I safely show the white feather? For no doubt your captain is a fineshot, and, truth to tell, I have some other plans for my life. Since heis even half-brother to Miss Primrose I should not want to shoot him. " Primrose looked up with languid sweetness. She felt rather sore andinert from the shock. "Why, were you going to shoot him?" she asked. "We had some words. You know I ran over you. It was very rude andcareless. And it might have been much worse, and then I should reallyhave been guilty. " "But you caught the ball! I saw it as I went down. I should not havebeen so intent and moved a little. But I had not taken off my skates. Brother Phil wanted me to, but I was quite determined to have my ownway. And so I went over more easily. It would be very cruel and wickedto shoot each other on account of me. " "And silly, too, " said Madam Wetherill sharply. "I shall take the casein my own hands, and arrange matters, " laughingly. "I think CaptainNevitt was unmindful for a moment. And there is no great harm done but asprained wrist. " "And if you had shot Phil----" "Well, what would you have done?" "I should never, never want to see you or to think of you again!" "And if he had shot me?" "Then, I think, I should send him away and never see him again. " Allin Wharton wondered how it would be in the future if they should meeton the field of battle. For he had just wrung a reluctant consent fromhis father that he should respond to his country's call, whose needwould never be more urgent than now. "I wonder if you are on the side of the King? It would seem so naturalwith a brother in the ranks, " and he recalled the entertainment in hishonor at Madam Wetherill's hands. Polly, his sister, had thought thecaptain charming. "I am a rebel, " she said proudly. "And I shall never be content until hecomes over to the side of the country, to the buff and blue instead ofthe red. " "Surely, surely; you are a brave, patriotic girl. Wish me success incase I want to join the rebel army, " with a half-embarrassed smile. Itwas not wisdom to confess all one's plans. She put out her right hand. It was the other that had been hurt. "I wishthee success. That means victory and a safe return, " she replied withsweet solemnity. CHAPTER XIV. FOR NATIVE LAND AND LOYALTY. They all made so light of the occurrence that a note of apology from Mr. Wharton settled the matter. Captain Nevitt felt in his cooler momentsthat he had been a little to blame, also hasty and unreasonable. Andwhen, a few evenings after, he met pretty and vivacious Polly Whartonand danced with her, he was very glad the matter had gone no farther. Primrose was soon well again, but Madam Wetherill would not consent toher going out on the river among the gay crowd, though she felt it agreat deprivation. There were two or three quiet spots on the creekswhere children could go without harm, and Patty used to take her whenPhil was engaged, though Lieutenant Vane was always inquiring if hecould not accompany them. He seemed younger and more boyish than thecaptain, and proved quite delightful to the groups of children, thoughhe admitted laughingly that he found a great many rebels among them. And so the days went on, one and another indignant over the "rollickingwinter" as Mr. Allen termed it, and others storming at General Howe forthe wanton destruction everywhere visible. Groves of trees were cut downfor firewood, gardens despoiled, and some of the houses taken possessionof by the troops were cut and hacked with insulting boasts, and reallyruined. Others, Continentals confessedly, railed at Washington for hisinaction and supineness. Howe had planned one surprise and possible capture of the troops, butheroic Lydia Darragh, having overheard the plot, walked to Washington'scamp while it was at Whitemarsh, and forewarned them. Finding the rebelsprepared with a warm welcome the British retraced their steps. Therewere small skirmishes outside the lines, and once the impetuousLafayette advanced, hoping to surprise the enemy, but nothing came ofthis. Baron Steuben was training the Continentals, as many of them wereraw recruits, but, used to hunting as they were, most of the young menhad a quick eye and correct aim. But stories crept in concerning their hardships and sufferings. Everyavenue was closely watched that no supplies should be sent directly fromthe city, but more than once keen wit evaded them. There were passes forthe farmers to come in on market days, and many were glad even to supplytheir enemies for British gold. James Henry thought this no sin, and wasgiven a pass for his son and nephew. Penn had imbibed many of hisuncle's beliefs, and took home rather rose-colored accounts of theprosperity of the city. He kept, too, a watchful eye over Andrew, whowas more than half suspected of being quite as willing to deal with therebels, and Madam Wetherill's was considered a rather tempting andunsafe place for sober-going Friends. But one day he came alone, and made his way to Arch Street, leaving hisempty wagon at a nearby tavern that he knew he could trust. "It is thy cousin, " whispered Madam Wetherill, who had some callers. "Take him upstairs in Patty's sewing room. " Primrose ran out with delight in her eyes, but she had grown wise, and, instead of a cry of joy, placed her finger archly on her lips andmotioned him through the hall. "I saw a glimpse of a red coat, " he said in a low tone. "I have nodesire to run into a hornets' nest. Oh, Primrose, thou hast grown tallersince the day thou wert at the farm. Thou wilt soon be a young lady. Andthe sweetness of childhood will be ended. " "Is girlhood sharp, then, and--and sour?" Her eyes danced with a merry, mischievous light. "Nay, sweeter than ever; but it's sweetness is more sacred. Andpresently comes the time of lovers. " "I shall not have any lovers. They say pert things and talk about prettyfaces, or else are silly like Anabella's lover, and forever kissingone's hand. And what think you Lieutenant Vane did when we were going toride a few days since? There was pretty Mistress Wharton here, and mybrother is much taken with her, though she is such a rebel. But I wasnot allowed to mount the stepping stone, and his hand was placed undermy foot. So I pressed down hard, wishing I could squeeze the Britishblood out of him. They do nothing but run about and have pleasure. Butif I were a hundred years old I would have none of them for lovers. Iwant no one but my brother and my cousin, and sometimes I think thou artdearer, because thou would fight for thy country. And I am ashamed whenI think it is his country as well. " "What preachment is the little maid making, Andrew?" said the oldervoice as the ample figure entered the doorway. "I sometimes think Ishall have to keep her shut up in one room, people talk to her so muchand spoil her. " "Nay, she is not spoiled, " protested Andrew. "She is a wise little thing, and saucy, too, and often amuses thecompany by bits of patriotism that are shrewd and wholesome. I thinkpeople in this mad revel are forgetting they are Americans and have acountry to fight for. And, now, what is the news? There is muchdissatisfaction, I hear, with General Washington. It cannot be that theywill give up the rallying point, the wisest man of them all, and breakup into factions. " "They will not give him up, madam. It is a bitter winter, and the storesat York are sadly depleted. They are watched on every hand. While thetown is dancing to British music, and giving aid and comfort to theenemy, our men are living in rude huts that hardly shelter them from thestorms and are glad for crusts. But the men will stand by him to thelast. It is only idle talk about superseding him. And the men worshipMadam Washington and Madam Knox. If you could see them! They minister tothe sick, they patch the worn-out clothes and blankets. There is so muchneed of these things, stockings, and shoes. " "My heart aches for them. I have been gathering a store----" She pausedand eyed Primrose. "You need not be afraid, " cried Primrose eagerly. "Is it not _my_country? And, Cousin Andrew, I have saved some money that my brothergave me to buy frippery and sweetmeats with. And I am knitting socks. " "Thou art a brave girl, and quite able to keep thy own counsel. I haveknown that aforetime, " and he smiled. "Indeed, madam, we could trust herto the uttermost. " "There is quite a store of some things----" "I will tell thee--there is a false bottom to the wagon that I canraise up after the load is sold. That is my secret. And I can trust himat the Pewter Platter. I have carried more than one lot. " "There is a bagful, " pulling it out of the cupboard. "It will look like a sack of potatoes. " They all laughed. "There is a blanket in my room. Come thither. Then thou hast littlefear? It is a great relief to hear this. " "Madam, such courage must be rewarded. I should want to be with them, but that I think I can be of more service here. When the springopens----" He paused and looked from one to the other. "Wilt thou go, then?" Primrose slipped her hand in his, and though hervoice was just above a whisper it was an inspiration to him. "I shall go, then. Penn can fill my place at home. The country's needwill never be greater. " There was another half fear that the loyal soul barely breathed toitself. He must be away before it came to anything beyond the half fear. The beautiful eyes were grave, and the face had a new solemnity. Herfaith inspired him. "We have not much time to lose, " he said. "You see, I must go up therough Perkiomen road to meet the friend in waiting. We have safepoints, " and he smiled gravely. Madam Wetherill pulled out the stout sack and held the top open. "That will be a godsend. Madam, many a poor fellow's heart will be gladand his toes warm. Heaven reward thee!" "Heaven has rewarded me in many things. If I could see the end moreclearly!" Primrose brought her little purse with its gilt clasps, and poured outher money. Madam Wetherill added her store to it. "Art thou sure there is no risk?" she said. "I shall be careful. One learns much shrewdness. " He shouldered the bag. "Let me out the side way like any other servant, " he said, as he badethem farewell. "And now, little Primrose, " cautioned her Aunt, "thou must keep guardover thy tongue as if with a steel chain, for thy cousin's sake. " "It will never be a traitor tongue, " returned the maiden proudly. Patty had been down in the kitchen helping with some ironing, and nowshe came up with an armful of stiff skirts. For many women on stateoccasions wore a big hoop, and others swelled out with starchedpetticoats. "I have to go among the stores to find some things that have grownscarce as hen's teeth. And thou hast not been out these two days, Primrose. Thy gallants have deserted thee. What sayest thou to a littlerun in the brisk air. We shall not go in public places, madam, and shewill be safe by my side. " "As she likes. There are plenty of pretty girls in town, perhaps betterworth being looked at. And it is early yet. " Primrose enjoyed these small shopping expeditions. There were some verynice places kept by Friends who had been famous in merchandise a fewyears before, but stocks had sadly diminished and prices gone up. Patty's Yankee blood came to the fore in such times as these, and shehad become rather a dread to clerks and shopmen. This part of it amusedPrimrose very much, as Patty was sure to make a good bargain. "There seems nothing at all to buy now, " she cried in disdain, findingsome difficulty in getting what she wanted. "There will be less yet unless the war ends presently, " was the reply ofthe shopkeeper. "Then we must turn our old gowns, though in truth there seems no lack offine attire if one looks at the gay maidens on the street. They seemturned into butterflies. And it must take a mint of money for theirwings. " The clerk smiled. "Let us go round by the creek, " pleaded Primrose. "The skaters are somerry. " "If thou wilt not coax to stay more than a moment. " The child promised. As they were turning a corner a young man eyed them sharply. Primrosedid not see him, and Patty hurried on, for he was a stranger. But he took some long strides and caught up to them. "It is Mistress Primrose Henry----" The little girl turned. "Oh, Patty, it is Miss Polly Wharton's brother, " she said, holding outher hand. "Who runs over thee again, " said Patty sharply, for she had heard thestory. "Nay, but it is quite a godsend, as I have been to thy aunt's to saygood-by. In an hour's time I shall be on my way to Valley Forge to castin my lot with the brave fellows there, and I wanted to take thygodspeed with me. I have great faith in it. " "Oh!" Primrose gave a little cry. "I want thee to be both sorrowful and joyful. Glad that thou hast apatriot friend, and sorry that there should be war. I could not wait anylonger and wrung my father's consent from him, though he thinks we areright. And I believe we shall have a great and grand country some daythat soldiers will be proud of defending. I go this very night with aparty of young men who have planned to elude observation. Andso--good-by. " "I wish thee--a safe return. " "Thanks. Keep me in mind when thou prayest for soldiers and victory. " Then he was gone like a flash. "I have no heart for the skaters now, " Primrose said with a sigh. "Letus go home. " The Whartons kept the news very quiet, for it would have made them amarked family to have it bruited abroad just now. But Polly was lessgay, and Primrose watched her wonderingly. And now the long cold winter was drawing to a close. In March camegleams of warmth, welcome sunny days that softened the ice and spoiledskating, and the great Delaware sent floating cakes down to the sea. Buds began to swell and grass to spring up, and there was a great dealof drilling among the troops, and sickness as well. England began to think that Howe might have captured Washington, coopedup in a desolate wild as they considered it from their imperfect news. The capture of Burgoyne had been an unexpected blow and led to eloquentarguments in Parliament. Mr. Pitt's great speech had reached America, and thrilled every patriotic heart. Leaning on his crutches he haddenounced the purchase of German hirelings and brutal savages. "If I were an American, as I am an Englishman, while a foreign troop waslanded in my country, I never would lay down my arms, never! never!never!" he had exclaimed. Then King Louis of France acceded to the treaty of alliance and informedthe American commissioners "that it was decided to acknowledge theindependence of the United States. " Howe was to be recalled and succeeded by Sir Henry Clinton. Even thisnews inspired the camp at Valley Forge, where the word from France hadnot yet been received. At the Henry farm there had been an undercurrent of dissatisfaction. Lois Henry had set her heart on Rachel Morgan as a daughter-in-law, andher husband was nothing loath, since she was a good housekeeper andstrong in the faith. It was feared that Andrew was wavering. He neverspoke at the meetings, and absented himself from home now and then withno explanations. It was well known that his sympathies were with thearmy at Valley Forge, and it was surmised in some way that he had a handin sending supplies. Several of the young men about had joined the army. "Andrew, " his father began one morning when they were sorting seeds ofvarious kinds for planting, "Andrew, I have somewhat to say to thee. Thou art of age, and a good marriage is the best ballast for the journeyof life. I am elderly and shall never entirely recover from my accident, but the farm is large, and some day it will all be thine. A wife that weshould agree with would pleasure us both fervently. It is true thouwilt be able to marry well in a worldly point of view, but we do notcare so much for that. Thy mother and I have decided it would gratify usgreatly in the Lord, if thou shouldst see thy way clear to take thycousin Rachel. " "Rachel!" He had more than half suspected this and dreaded it. There wasalso a feeling that Rachel cared for him. He could not imagine himselfin love with her. Love was something more than a cool, friendly regard, meals properly cooked, and a house well kept; thriftiness and layingfarm to farm. "Well, does it take thee so by surprise? Moreover, we both know she hasa deep regard for thee. " "I have not thought of it in that way. I am in no haste to marry, " theyoung man replied hesitatingly, casting about for a more forciblerejoinder. "A good wife is a good thing, and thou mayst look far and wide and notfind thy cousin's equal. She is well grounded in the faith, and I haveobserved with sorrow thy tendency to stray from the old landmarks, butyouth hath such seasons until the carnal will is subdued. Then it willneed to make no change in our living. Thy mother and I can grow old inthis, the home of our youth, and see our children, and our children'schildren, mayhap, growing up, well trained in the faith. " "I will consider it, " Andrew said gravely. "Lay my counsel to heart for thy mother's sake. " Andrew Henry went on with his work, but he knew a crisis had come in hislife. Like many another Friend trained in the ways of peace he had ahorror of the cruelties of war, of which he had heard and seen muchsince the battle of Germantown, and shrank from the thought of takingany human life. On the other hand was the brave and boundlessaspiration for liberty and a country of one's own, that had thrilled himwhen he heard the Declaration of Independence read. And now that Francehad held out a helping hand, and the English Parliament was divided, theaspect looked more hopeful to him. But for his parents he would go atonce and cast in his lot with the heroes at Valley Forge, to whompatriotism was as brave a religion as that of Roger Williams. And Rachel! No, he could not marry her. All his soul rose up in revolt. Not but what such marriages often occurred among Friends and werereasonably happy. Very few sons or daughters went contrary to the adviceof their parents in such matters. And he knew to refuse would be givingup his home. If Rachel was soft-tongued and attractive like his mother, for LoisHenry was still fair of face, visions of the pretty, graceful maidens intown danced before his eyes. He had seen them on the streets chattingmerrily, on the ice flying swiftly like so many gay birds. He hadlistened to Primrose playing on her spinet and singing pretty old lovesongs that she did not understand aught of but the rare melody. And heenjoyed Madam Wetherill's house--he had borrowed a few books from theold case, and, plain as he was, he had been charmed by some volumes ofverse. Surely this Master Quarles must have been a man of deep feeling andgodliness. And there was one Ben Jonson, and a Master Suckling, thoughhe was not quite sure about his dainty conceits. Queer old books instained leather covers and print hard to read. Volumes of one JohnMilton who, he learned, had stood out bravely for liberty. Madam Wetherill had come upon him one morning browsing deeply in thecase of books. "Take anything that pleaseth thee, " she said kindly. "They are old things in the Wardour family that came to my father, andhe knew many of the scholars of his day. They had not such a fear oflearning then. And he knew this Mr. Pope and Addison and many another. And even our master Franklin, with all his many businesses, found timeto write verses for his wife, it seems, and with James Logan, has beenmuch in earnest that the town should have some sort of library. " He had carried home a thin, old book and kept it closely in hiswaistcoat pocket that no one should surprise it, and read it by oddspells. And a volume of John Milton's tracts stirred him mightily. All these things he would have to give up if he was Rachel Morgan'shusband. He felt that he had grown out of the narrow bounds and couldnever get back into them. James Henry went into the house. His wife sat alone, knitting. "I have spoken to Andrew, " he said, "and he will take time to consider. But he did not say aught against Rachel, and he certainly hath no otherfancy. I am thankful my brother's daughter is a mere child, since heshows such fondness for her, and thou wert wise, wife, in not having herhere. She would have been an unmanageable firebrand, since we could notcontrol her wholly. And I have good hopes for Rachel. We will not delaywhen the matter is settled, but have them man and wife speedily. Marriage is a cure for many wayward notions. " Rachel had come downstairs in her list boots, that she was fond ofwearing indoors, and could make herself. The door was ajar and she hadheard all her uncle said. Her heart beat exultantly, and she crept backagain softly, with a flush on her face and a pleased light in her eye. For she was very much in love with Andrew, though she did not call herpreference by that name. She would give him decorous opportunities tospeak. But he went away and left her sitting alone by the fireside, and pouredover John Milton in his cold room. And if she went out to the barn atmeal time he made some excuse for not walking back with her. "Dost thou know, " she asked of Penn one day, "where Andrew goes in thesecurious absences? His father is troubled, but he will not say a word. " "He went, one day, across the river to Swede's Ford. It was about somewood, " he said. "And he hath a friend on the Lancaster road. Now that Ithink, I am afraid there is mischief in it. He hath a soft spot for therebels at Valley Forge. But he always brings home money for what he hathsold. " "Uncle James hath spoken to him about marrying. " "Marrying! Whom, pray?" Rachel flushed swarthily. "If thy eyes were keen thou couldst have seen what they both desire. Ishall marry him ere long. It will be a good thing for all of us, and nochange of home. " Penn simply stared his amazement. "He is an obstinate fellow in many things. Well--if thou canst managehim, " doubtfully. "He hath no plans for marriage at present, I knowthat. " "He will heed his father, I think. And, Penn, it will be to thy interestto help me. Thou canst put in a word here and there. " Penn Morgan soon learned some things that astonished him. His cousin wasgiving aid to the rebels. Yet it was odd that these starving men couldpay in gold and silver when the Congress had issued so much paper money. Penn half suggested the marriage one day when they were workingtogether. Andrew glanced at him with resolute eyes. "It is a fancy of my father's, " he answered, "but I have no mind towardit, as I shall tell him presently. " "Is anything displeasing to thee about Rachel?" was the rather nettledresponse. "Rachel is a good girl and my parents are fond of her. But I have otherplans for my life, " was the quiet reply. Rachel was vexed at his coldness and studious avoidance of her. Sheboldly walked by his side on Sunday to meeting, but, coming home, therewas always someone to talk with, until they passed the cross-roads, andthen he would take Faith by the hand. Penn Morgan was never quite sure that he had meant to betray his cousin, but, finding that several others were trafficking with the rebels, fancied he might mention their names as men on whom a sharp eye might bekept. Andrew went unsuspiciously into town one day, eager to learnsomething about the British army, and if it were true they werepreparing for an active campaign. As he stood in Market Square with hisload nearly disposed of a whisper caught his ear. "The tall Quaker. He will go to the Pewter Platter. Jonas Evans has beensuspected for some time. When he has loaded up afresh and is aboutstarting will be the time to seize him. " Andrew Henry did not move a muscle while two men scrutinized himclosely. Afterward one of them approached with a half-insolent air. "Is trade fair to-day, Friend Broadbrim? The winter seems quite brokenup. And round about country places they are plowing, no doubt. If thouhast made a good bargain thou mightst stand treat. We have drained theKing's men pretty dry. " "Nay, I am busy just now with some bills to collect, but if thou wiltmeet me an hour hence at the Pewter Platter, thou shalt have thy fill ofmeat and drink. And since my start was early this morning I shall bringa hearty appetite myself. " "Thou art a good fellow, truly, " nodding with a slight leer. "And since thou hast to wait, here is a shilling for ale. There are pothouses near by, " returned Andrew. He watched the man enter one. Then he summoned one of the idle boysabout. "Keep my horses for five minutes, " he said, "and thou shalt be wellpaid. " Then he dashed among the crowd, and could not have been told froma dozen other men in drab coats and wide hats. CHAPTER XV. PARTING. Madam Wetherill sat deep in her account books. Primrose was studyingarithmetic, and the tough rules were not at all to her taste. Janice Kent paused at the door. "Madam, " she said, "Friend Henry is hereon urgent business. And he begs that he may come up to you. " Primrose's pretty face was in a glow, and she sprang from her seat. "It may not concern thee, moppet. Go to Patty. Thou canst not be ineverything. " The child rose reluctantly, but obeyed. "I am in trouble, " Andrew began briefly. "We have been informedabout--how much I know not. I thought it best to come and warn thee. Still I do not see how thou can be brought in, and thy shrewd wit will, I think, save thee. But I must get out of the town some way. I may beaccused of spying about, and I am not over anxious for a hempennecklace, nor lodgings in Walnut Street. So I have little time tospare. " With that he related his morning's adventure and how he had left histeam. "Canst thou send a blind message to the Pewter Platter at once? JonasEvans will understand. " "Yes. Patty will be best. We can trust her, and she will hardly benoted. And thou?" "I must get out of the town in some sort of disguise. There is muchbehind this that I do not know. " Patty was dispatched on her errand. "Sit still, child, with thy book, and presently thou shalt know what is meet, " said she. Andrew Henry went briefly over his inner life for the last two months, his desire to enlist in the Continental army, his shrinking from thepain it would be to his parents. "But now, madam, it would bring greater trouble on them for me to gohome. The British would likely arrest me. " "Yes, I see. And thou hast resolved to be a soldier lad? Not from theteasing of little Primrose, I hope. " "No, madam, though I shall be her soldier as well. But those brave menat Valley Forge have been before my eyes night and day. I should havedone this a little later, anyhow. My father and mother are in goodhands. " "Heaven keep thee! But better a hundred times perish on the field ofbattle than be thrust into that vile den, the Walnut Street Jail, wherethat fiend in human shape, Cunningham, works his cruel will on helplessmen. Not a day but dead bodies are carried out, some of them bruised andbeaten and vermin-covered. Faugh! The thought sickens me! Yes, thou mustescape. Primrose, child, come in. " She ran eagerly to Andrew, who greeted her with a smile. Then Pattyreturned breathless. "It is all right. They will find nothing from cellar to the top layer ofthe chimney. But Master Evans says get out of the town as fast as youcan. " Madam Wetherill was considering. "A disguise, " she said. "A suit ofCaptain Nevitt's is here, but thou couldst hardly squeeze into it. Atthirty thou wilt be the counterpart of thy uncle Philemon. Thou wilt goto Valley Forge?" "Yes. After I have struck into the old Perkiomen road no one will lookfor me. It is getting through the city. And the time is brief. I wouldnot for worlds raise any suspicion for thee. " "Patty, exercise thy quick wit. If we could dress him up as a young manof fashion--or make him into Ralph Jeffries, who is more barrel-shaped. But there, the pass!" "I have it, " cried Patty with a merry laugh. "Order up gray Bess, anddress him to personate thee. He can put on a mask and drop hisshoulders. Thy plaided camlet cape will do well. And put Moppet on apillion behind. Someone else must go. Ah, Madam Kent! who will enjoy itmightily and sit up like a brigadier. Then, when he is out of harm'sway, she can bring Primrose home. " "But the mare--how shall I get her back?" "Thou mayst need her; if not, present her to Madam Washington. Patty, thy brain has served us as well as in the matter of making gowns. Come, we must make ready. " Janice Kent was summoned, and ready enough for the adventure; and thehorses were ordered up. Then came a great deal of amusement in attiringAndrew. "Since it is quite muddy put my linen safeguard petticoat on him, Patty, the better to conceal his long legs, for it will be somewhat awkwardriding woman-fashion, but my saddle is broad. Now my bedgown ofpaduasoy. Alack! how short the sleeves are! Here are the long cuffs. That will do. Now the camlet cape and my black beaver hat. A mercy itis, Andrew, that thou hast no beard. Patty, tie the bow. Upon my word, thou art so good-looking, with the coquettish bow under thy chin, that Iam half afraid some saucy redcoat may stop thee. Janice, guard him well. And you must wear my silken mask. April wind is bad for complexions andmight freckle thee. " Primrose had been dancing about, not comprehending the gravity of thecase. "Oh, Aunt Wetherill, how queer it all is! He is like and unlike thee. " "And if thou shouldst meet a friend, be careful and remember that 'tisthy aunt. And now, Janice, make thyself ready. Meanwhile I will go intoretirement under Patty's wing. " Patty went down to see that all was ready. Old Cato stood with thehorses. Luckily sharper-eyed Julius had gone to market. Janice helped her mistress, who was rather awkward, it was true. Theskirts were adjusted, the mask dropped over the face, and then Primrosewas put in her seat. "Not a word out of thee for thy very life, " said Patty. "Look as demureas if on the road to church. " Mistress Janice sprang into her saddle. As they were going out of thecourtyard, she exclaimed: "Let us take Fairemount, Madam Wetherill, andfind some wild flowers. The spring is late, to be sure, but they must bein bloom. " "There will be no danger, I think, " said Patty softly, as she re-enteredthe room. "I will have my netting and sit here by the child's bed. What a queercaper, and so quickly managed! But it is what I thought would comepresently. Not the suspicion, but Andrew Henry's going over to therebels. He is more like his uncle than Phil Nevitt. Ah, if it could betrue that the British would decamp before they have quite ruined ourcity we should all give thanks. " There was an imperious knock presently that made the great door rattle. The small black factotum, in his Barbadoes suit and red turban, openedthe top door and glanced at the caller. "Madam Wetherill----" "Madam and Missy and Mistress Janice have gone out ridin' som'er. " "Out riding, hey! with mud a foot deep! Tell your mistress that I cameto have my revenge for her beating me last night at piquet. The youngpeople made such a rumpus with their talk I lost my head, " and RalphJeffries looked vexed. The youngster nodded and grinned. Later on came Polly Wharton and MissStuart, to meet with the same reply. At the corner of the street they encountered Captain Nevitt and Vane, and an elderly officer. "It is a fine day save for the mud!" exclaimed Sally. "Fine overhead, but few are going that way. " "We did not set out for that, " returned Vane, smiling. "And if you have set out for Madam Wetherill's it will be quite asuseless. She and the young one have gone off larking, for wild flowers, I believe. Mistress Kent went with them for dragon. " Then the men looked at each other. "How long have they been gone, I wonder. " "Oh, since about high noon!" Patty had looked up from her sewing at the second knock. "Thy ride will get noised about and throw suspicion off guard, whichwill be so much the better, " she exclaimed. They waited impatiently for the return of the guard, laughing overanother call or two. It was almost dusk when Janice and Primrosereturned. "Friend Henry escaped safely, though, madam, if thou shouldst be taxedwith rudeness in not bowing at the proper time, pray apologize. We metsome old friends, but he was somewhat stiff. And the saddle is left withone Master Winter at Fairemount. I ripped it that he might have the jobof sewing and earn a few pence. Friend Henry was glad enough to doffpetticoats and jump on astride; 'tis about the only thing I envy in aman. And then I put on thy skirt, and we slunk into town quietly. Quitean adventure, truly! If one could only hear the end of it!" James Henry heard the next day that there was a warrant out for his son, who was suspected of carrying messages and other matters to the rebelheadquarters at Valley Forge. He had left his horses and the wagon inthe market place, and disappeared. No one remembered letting him out onhis pass. It might be that he was still hiding in the town. "There has been too much of this carrying back and forth, " declared thesergeant. "It is time there was a sterner hand at the helm, and not somuch pleasuring. " There were reasons why Captain Nevitt said nothing to his little sisterabout the matter, and she was strictly forbidden to suggest it. TheWetherill household had not seen Andrew, as he had watched hisopportunity to slip in unaware; consequently, nothing was gained byquestioning them. "They would certainly have known if he had come in our absence, " saidMadam Wetherill with an air of interest. "Of course we must be sorry tohave him in danger, but we will not lay the matter before Primrose. " There were stirring events on both sides. On the 7th of May the newsreached the Continental army of the recognition of France. The warmerweather and the replenishment of food and clothing had inspirited themen. Many new enlistments from the country around had come in. On thismorning they were assembled for prayers and thanksgiving. GeneralSteuben had drilled them until they presented a really soldierlyappearance. But their enthusiasm broke bounds when the salutes werefired. "Long live the King of France!" ran through the army with a shout. Another salute was fired. "Long live the friendly European powers. " Andthe third, "The American States, " was received with the wildest joy. They all forgot the suffering of the long, dreary winter. After a discourse by one of the chaplains, there was a collation. Whenthe General and Mrs. Washington retired the soldiers lined the way withthe cry of "Long live General Washington!" "Long live Lady Washington!"a title that seemed to follow her, and that had been given her before byColonel Hancock. It was supposed the campaign would open almost at once. But GeneralHowe's army had been demoralized more by dissipation than theContinentals by hardships, and weakened by numerous desertions. Theofficers had been in one round of gayety, and the city recalled theircharms long afterward. They had made the theater a reputable place ofamusement, and the higher-class balls had been well patronized by theTory ladies. But the farewell to General Howe was to excel all other gayeties, and tobe an event long remembered, including a regatta, a tournament, and adance. Decorated barges left Knight's Wharf in the afternoon, full ofhandsomely attired guests, who were carried to Old Fort, and escorted bytroops to the beautiful and spacious lawn of Walnut Grove. The Englishfleet lay at anchor, flying their colors, and the transport ships werecrowded with spectators. The tournament, with its two sets of knights ready to do battle fortheir favorite ladies, sounds like a chapter out of the Middle Ages. NewYork had abounded in gayeties, but this eclipsed anything yet attempted. The apartment had been decorated by the British officers, foremost amongthem young André, little dreaming then what fate had in store for him, and how his life would end. After the tournament, with its stilted magnificence, came a dance, adisplay of fireworks, a supper with twenty-four slaves in Orientalcostumes, with silver collars and gilt armlets. The walls were hung withmirrors, and thousands of wax tapers reflected the brilliance of silkengowns and jewels, of scarlet and gold uniforms, of fair women and bravemen that made the Mischianza a glittering page of history. It was true that many beside the Tory ladies graced the occasion. Therehad been an undeniable friendliness between both Americans and British, and many a heart won and lost, as it was said six hundred or moredeserters from Clinton's army found their way back to Philadelphia andmade worthy citizens, some of them indeed entering the American army. Captain Nevitt had importuned Madam Wetherill to attend, for he wasresolved Primrose should see the pageant. Polly Wharton had, as sheadmitted, nine minds out of the ten to go, as Thomas Wharton, the ownerof Walnut Grove, was her uncle. But her brother was in the Americanarmy, and her heart really went with her country. "As if a little dancing could matter!" said Phil Nevitt. "Nay, MissPolly, I doubt not but that some day I shall see you at the court of ourKing, and perhaps dance with you in a palace. And I want Primrose to go, but Madam Wetherill will not, though Major André himself sent theinvitation. He is such a charming, generous fellow that he can do morewith his winning air than many with their swords. But Primrose I musttake. She is such a pretty, saucy, captivating rebel that it is charmingto tease her. And, if you will go, her aunt will give in, I know. " "I'm not sure, " Primrose declared with dainty hesitation, "whether Iwant to go or not. I am certain, Phil, I shall be a worse rebel thanever, afterward. " "Nay, Primrose, when you see the gallant gentlemen who have come over tohelp the King restore peace and order, and punish some of theringleaders, you will be convinced of the great mistake the Americanshave made. And then we shall be friends again. " "I wish you were all going back to England with General Howe!" "And you give me up so easily--your own brother?" with a patheticupbraiding in his tone. "Only a half-brother! And the Tory half I can't like. The other, theHenry half----" "Well----" studying her mischievous, dancing eyes. "I like that--a little, " demurely. "I shall be patient, sweet darling. I have come to love you dearly--yourmother's half, and your father's half. " She glanced up with her warm, frank heart shining in her eyes, and hekissed her fondly. "When thou lovest me well I shall know it by one sign: thou wilt kiss meof thy own accord. " She had to steel her heart hard when he adopted the old phraseology, andsmiled in that beseeching manner. "We shall not be converted, little Primrose, " said Polly Wharton. "Ishall think of Allin at Valley Forge, and thou of thy splendid Quakercousin that so adroitly escaped the snare set for him. And we shalltwist the festivities about. When they drink to the King and the redcoatarmy, we shall say to ourselves, 'Washington and the buff and blue. ' Andwhen we dance, for there will be your brother and young Vane and CaptainFordham, so we are sure of three partners, and as we whirl around weshall say to ourselves 'Hurrah for the flag of the thirteen colonies!'" "It looks quite patriotic that way, " answered Primrose archly. It ended by their going. Mrs. Stuart and Sally, who were hardly Whig orTory, promised to keep watch of them. And though Miss Auchmuty had beencrowned Queen of Beauty at the tournament, and there were the fairShippen women and the Chews, men paused to look at the sweet, golden-haired child who was so simply gowned that her dress did notdetract from her beauty. And long afterward, when she was an old lady, she could recount the famous scene that ended, as one might say, theBritish possession of Philadelphia. For even as they danced amid thegleaming lights and fragrant flowers, a premonition of what was to come, although unexpected, and a bloodless victory, occurred. The redoubtswere sharply attacked by a daring body of rebels, but so well protectedthat surprise was not possible. Sir Henry Clinton arrived and the accomplished André was made hisadjutant general. Then came the news that a French fleet would sail upthe Delaware. Sir Henry prepared to leave at once, and the city wasshaken with both joy and alarm. At midnight, on the 18th of June, theBritish stole away silently, to the great surprise of the inhabitants, who knew Washington was preparing to descend upon them and feared abloody battle, for now the Continentals were well equipped, welldrilled, and strong in numbers. Primrose sat poring over a book of verse. For a wonder there was no onein to play cards. Madam Wetherill had been a little indisposed forseveral days. "Do go to bed, child, " she said rather sharply. "Thou wilt turn into abook next. " "I hope it will have a new, bright cover and not this musty, old one. " "I dare say, Miss Vanity. " "Good-night, " and she made her pretty courtesy. Then she stood still atthe quick knock. Barely was the door opened when Captain Nevitt rushedin and caught her to his heart. "Little Primrose, darling Primrose, for I have learned to love theedearly, I have come to say good-by. We are ordered to New York andleave at once. When I shall see thee again I cannot tell, but I maysend, and will write thee letters and letters. Hast thou one kiss that Imay take with me, holding all the sweetness of generous accord?" "Oh, do not go! do not go! I have teased thee often! I have tried not tolove thee, but, after all----" And she was sobbing in his arms. "It is a soldier's duty, dear. Wish me well, and I will take it as aguerdon. " "Oh, I cannot wish thee well to fight against my country. My heart istorn in two. " Her cry pierced his inmost soul. With all his love and persuasion shehad kept her loyalty. Gifts and pleasures had not won her. There was agreat gulf still between them. "But for love's sake. " "If your men win I shall have no country. If they lose----" "And if I should be lost----" "Oh, Heaven bring thee back to me again!" There were Captain Fordham and the lieutenant thanking Madam Wetherillfor her charming hospitality. But Philemon Henry Nevitt could only wringher hand, as his eyes were full of tears and his voice drowned in thegrief of parting. Then the big door clanged on the night air, and therewas a little sobbing heap at the foot of the broad stairway. "Come, dear, " said Madam Wetherill, much moved. "Thou shalt sleep in mybed and I will comfort thee. " It was true enough that the Continentals, marching down, found an emptycity. General Charles Lee had held back some information and acted in anunpatriotic manner when his commander had reposed unlimited trust inhim. And a few days later his indecision was made manifest at the battleof Monmouth, when he was courtmartialed and disgraced. But another tall soldier came in buff and blue, and so amazed Primrosethat she hardly knew him. With him was Allin Wharton, who had much tosay about Andrew's work through the winter, and that no gift had everbeen more timely than Madam Wetherill's great bag of stockings that wasstill talked about; and Lady Washington had esteemed it as one of themost providential happenings. "I have much to tell thee, sometime, " Andrew said. "There is only amoment now, for we are after the runaways. " And then he gave her a long, fond kiss. Madam Wetherill glanced at them. Would it be the old story over again? The battle of Monmouth was hard fought, but a victory for neither side, since Sir Henry saved his stores at the sacrifice of many lives, andescaped. Washington came back to the city for a brief stay and newplans. Lovely old Philadelphia, that had been William Penn's dream, was nomore. British occupation had overthrown its quaint charm. Gardens hadbeen destroyed, houses ruined, streets were a mass of filth and rubbish, the country roads were full of lawless gangs who plundered inoffensivepeople. "Oh, how sweet is the quiet of these parts, freed from the anxious andtroublesome solicitations, hurries, and perplexities of woeful Europe, "Penn had exclaimed, on his return from his first visit back to England. But the quiet had disappeared; even the old Quaker homes, that had heldout alike from blaming foe and encouraging friend, were full ofapprehension. Washington at once placed General Arnold in command. His marriage withMistress Margaret Shippen, and his beautiful home at Mount Pleasant, where elegance and extravagance reigned, had rendered him an object ofdisapprobation with the sober-thoughted and solid part of the community. Joseph Ross, the president of the executive council, brought manycharges against him, which though angrily repelled at the time wereproved sadly true later on. There were some trials of Tories, and two men were hanged for hightreason, both Quakers, one of whom had enlisted in Howe's army, and theother was accused of numerous crimes. Many had to choose between exile, or contempt that was ostracism at home. Dr. Duché had in the darkestperiod written a letter to General Washington beseeching him to submitto any proffer of peace that England might hold out, having lost hisardent patriotism, and he went to his old home to meet with charges ofdisloyalty there. But people began to take heart a little, to clear up their wastedgardens and fields and repair their houses. Some of the pleasure hauntswere opened again, and women ventured on their afternoon walks on thestreets, well protected, to be sure. There was, too, a certain amount ofgayety, tea-drinking and cards, and excursions up the river were wellpatronized. Andrew Henry, now sergeant, was detailed for a while among the troops toremain in Philadelphia. Now that he had embarked in the war he preferreda more active life, and it was too near his old home to be satisfactory. But as soon as possible he reported to Madam Wetherill. "I can never thank thee sufficiently for thy assistance and quick wit, "he said to her. "Through it I escaped without harm, but I foundafterward they had more proof than I could have safely met. And when Iarrived at camp I dispatched a messenger to my father, telling him of mychanged mind and plans for the future. " "And he was angry enough!" interposed Madam Wetherill. "It was worse than that. Mere anger is, perhaps, outlived. He had someother plans, " and the young Quaker flushed. "He gave me a fortnight toreturn, and, if not, would put Penn in my place and I need expectnothing more. " "See what thy talk hath led to, Primrose! For I was afraid thy patrioticrebellion was contagious. " Andrew smiled down on the child. "She hath been a wise little one, and Iam not sorry to be her soldier. With women like you, madam, to bring upgirls, and Lady Washington to care for disheartened soldiers, there willbe still greater victories, and there can be but one end. " Primrose looked up with an enchanting smile. "I am proud of thee, " shemade answer with an exultant ring in her voice. "And there is PollyWharton's brother who ran over me on the ice, and--my own brother that Ipray may come around. " "I feel very much as if I had been on both sides of the fence, " remarkedMadam Wetherill. "Still I could not have helped so much if I had beenoutspoken on the rebel side. I heard many a little thing that could bepassed on, and found how a few supplies could be forwarded withoutsuspicion. But, Andrew, wilt thou never regret this step?" "I considered well for many weeks. There were some other conditions Icould not wisely accept. And Penn will be a good son to my father. Otherwise I could hardly have left him. But 'tis done now, and though Ishall long many times to see my dear mother's face, I shall fight nonethe less bravely for our land. I hope to follow our intrepid Washington, and may soon be transferred. " "And leave the city?" cried Primrose in dismay. "I do not quite like our new general. I am afraid the coming winter willbe like the last, and I, for one, would have no heart for pleasure untilwe have won our independence. " Andrew promised to come in again when he was off duty, and Primrosereluctantly let him go. Yet she watched him with glistening eyes, andcould hardly decide how much was glory and how much tears. CHAPTER XVI. LOVE AND TRUE LOVE. "A very plain stiff Quaker downstairs, Primrose, who demands to see theealone. There is a sharp air about her. I think she must be one of thosethe madam spoke of who are importuning about repairs and want rents fornothing. " "To see me?" asked Primrose in surprise. "I have nothing to do with thehouses. " "She would not allow her business was with anyone else. She does notlook like one of the begging women with whom the city is overrun. " Primrose walked slowly down the wide staircase full of curiosity. PollyWharton asked for her sometimes, and Anabella Morris. The visitor had on the close hat with the big round crown that but fewof the younger women wore, and rarely in black. Her gown was straightand plain, the long sleeves coming down over her ungloved hands, and asquare of gray twilled silk crossed over her bosom. She did not stiruntil Primrose was well into the room and then she turned. "Oh, Rachel!" was the surprised exclamation. Rachel Morgan stared at the vision before her. An unwonted envy stirredher. It seemed as if Faith grew plainer every day, and this girl tookall the beauty! "How are they all at the farm?" Primrose inquired with prettygraciousness. "Is Uncle James quite well and strong?" "How could one be well with such a great sorrow?" the visitor askedsternly, fixing her eyes on Primrose, who shrank from the hard gaze, andfelt her heart beat in strange protest. "But--Andrew is well--is here----" "We heard a part of the army had been retained, and a neighbor hath seenAndrew Henry in the attire of the sons of cruelty and worldliness, andthat bitter spirit toward the law that Mr. Penn besought his brethrennot to use. But no one seems to heed duty or obedience any more. " Primrose stood gazing as if the voice held her in a half-frightenedthrall. "He hath been here, in this house?" "Yes, yesterday, " with some hesitation. "And he will come again?" "Oh, yes!" There was a confident ring in her voice that angered theother. "The world and its sins hath grown greatly upon him. I will venture tosay he feels more at home amid these gauds and giddy flowered damasksand soft cushions and numerous things the elect would term idols of thecarnal sort, " glancing around. "And the vain women who frequent houseslike these. I see thou art tricked out with much worldly vanity, and thyfather was one of the straitest Friends. How canst thou do it?" Primrose opened her eyes wide at this tirade and shook back the curly, glistening hair that she did not yet wear high on her head, for MadamWetherill hated to have her leave the cloisters of girlhood. And herfrock was white muslin, lengthened down a little and the piece coveredwith an artful ruffle. There was a silver buckle at her belt, and oneach shoulder a knot of blue ribbon. She hardly knew what to say, but presently she ventured--"Truly, CousinRachel, I do not feel vain. I seldom think of my gowns. " "I am in no mood to discuss attire, " as if Primrose had begun it. "Icome to thee on an urgent errand. Thou knowest, perhaps, that Andrewhath angered his father beyond everything. Instead of heeding theadmonition to come out from the world and have no part in itswickedness, he hath all winter been a go-between, encouraging rebellionby carrying supplies to the camp at Valley Forge----" "It was noble and kindly to take a great danger upon himself, to feedsick and starving men, and to clothe their poor bodies. It surely madeone's heart bleed to hear of their sufferings. Nay, thou shalt not sayhard and bitter things against him!" cried Primrose spiritedly. "The truth is wholesome, if it hath a bitter tang. We surmised that hefound encouragement in this house, and had beforetime listened to thychildish and unreasoning folly. And he made himself a criminal in theeyes of the law. His father's house was searched, and a man of Belialabode with us to see if he would not come back. And the two fine animalsand the market wagon were carried off. If they had found him it wouldhave gone hard with him. " "But they did not, " Primrose said triumphantly. "Thou didst see him then?" "Yes. And we knew--we saw him safely on the old Perkiomen road. Thensomeone came the next day to inquire about him, so we know he hadeluded them. And now they have marched in and Philadelphia is free!" "There were anxious days and nights about him until the word came thathe had joined the camp of rebels under Washington. " "But long ago he said if the country needed him he would go. And therewas Penn to take his place. " "Penn will be a good son to my uncle. But, after all, it is Andrew'splace. He is needed. His mother's heart is sore for him, and I can seethat Uncle James is not at rest. So I have put my pride in my pocket asa sinful thing, and come to thee. Perhaps thou mayest have someinfluence over him. Wilt thou try to persuade him?" Primrose looked down on the floor as she laced her slim hands together. "I will tell thee the whole story. He was to marry me. Aunt Lois wishedit and said I was a daughter after her own heart. I should have caredfor them as if I had been an own child. Uncle James had spoken to himand he had promised to consider. At the meeting it had been talked of asmost proper and suitable. I had not much money, for our small farm hathto be divided among three. But Uncle James thought a good wife betterthan wealth. " Primrose stared in blank amazement. Had not Andrew said there was acondition he could not fulfill? Was it this? "I should have made him a good wife and roused him out of thatdreaminess he allowed to hang about him. And because it was to be so, Iplead with Uncle James until he relented. He hath promised me to takehim back----" "But he will not leave the army until they have driven the Englishacross the seas again. And if thou couldst see him so straight and talland proud, holding up his head as he never did before! And all his heartis in it. " "But the Lord made him a son and not a soldier. It is against ourbelief. We have come out from the world, and are not to fight its sinfulbattles. He hath a higher duty. Thou hast a smooth and persuasivetongue, and if thou wouldst use it to restore peace between a sad fatherand wayward son, and assure him he hath only to come back and fulfillhis promise and all will be peace--if thou carest to do a good work, this will be one. " Rachel Morgan rose, and looked so steadily, so sternly at Primrose Henrythat she felt a shrinking all over her. "Thou wilt do this, " she said. "It seems as if thou hadst cared a littlefor Aunt Lois and thy dead father's brother, and if thou hast any lovethou wilt try to restore peace. " "I will tell him what thou sayest, " in a weak tone as if she was hardlypersuaded. Rachel caught her hand, which was soft as a rose leaf, and wrung it inhers until she could have cried with pain. "Nay, not in that cold way. Thou hast the eyes and the tongue to movewhomever thou wilt, and he set strange store by thee. Men often yield toa honeyed voice. Coax him, convince him it is his duty. Otherwise theirsorrow and, perhaps, their death may be on his hands, and neither wiltthou be altogether free. That was my errand and the Lord gave mestrength to come, though women do not generally plead for theirlovers. " "I will try, " Primrose said, much moved. But she sat by herself after Rachel had left her, thinking the matterover with a curious protest that she did not understand. Why should sheshrink from his marrying Rachel? She had seen many lovers through thewinter, and Anabella had poured into her ears a great deal offoolish-sounding flattery, and delight on her part, that had causedPrimrose much wonder. And now her gay captain had followed the fortunesof Sir Henry Clinton, and she was in despair, though he had promised toreturn. But she asked Madam Wetherill what she ought to do. The lady gave an oddlittle smile. "You must tell him, since you have consented. But it will not change hisintentions. His enlisting was no sudden notion, if he was forced into itby circumstances. I wonder at Mistress Rachel making this appeal. " "Do you think he ought to marry her?" Primrose asked timidly. "That is a question for him to answer, my child. " But Madam Wetherill knew if he had been in love with Rachel he wouldhave made some overtures himself. Primrose studied the subject within her heart and was quite grave overit. For two days they did not see him and on the third a messenger camewith a note. The permission to join Washington had arrived suddenly and they were tomarch at once. It was the present plan of the Commander in Chief toinvest New York and pen up the British there. "I would rather fight thansee the gayety of the last winter repeated, " Andrew wrote. "And I ammuch afraid our officers have not learned wisdom by the experience oftheir enemies. For surely so much pleasure will demoralize them. Andthough I am sorry not to see thee, partings are sad at the best, and Ihave a strong belief that I shall return well and sound. Dear Primrose, if so be thou could get word to my mother without too great an effort, tell her I keep her in my heart day and night. She will know it was notpossible for me to accede to my father's request, pleasant as it mighthave been for others. I send him a son's respect, whether he considersme in the light of a son or no, and am sorry that at the last I shouldhave brought trouble and suspicion upon them. It is my present hope thatPenn will be a good son to them. I wish little Faith could have some ofthy joy, for I am afraid it is a dreary life for the child. Heaven bewatchful of thee, little Primrose. " It was true that several companies were not needed for the city'sprotection, and were dispatched in the hasty mood that not infrequentlyruled General Arnold. And now new defenses were erected for the city, and there was a generalclearing up. The barricade around the old Treaty Elm was taken down, thesquares were freed from rubbish and the grass restored, the housesrepaired and new ones planned. True, landlords groaned about unpaidrents, and money-lenders almost wept over the sums the British haddespoiled them of. The country estates were in a sad plight, many ofthem, but others had escaped. Madam Wetherill thanked Heaven that it was no worse with her. MountPleasant was a scene of great gayety during the summer, and the Arnoldsand the Shippens held grand court, almost like royalty. She had much todo minding her estate and looking out for some of her southerninterests, and took less heed to gay parties. Twice a year the trustees met to consider the estate of MistressPrimrose Henry. Just before this Madam Wetherill took her charge over tothe old Quaker farm, that was so peaceful and thrifty one would hardlydream there had been war in the land. Primrose had sent a message toRachel Morgan to explain why she had not undertaken her trust. Aunt Lois was rather feeble, but Rachel seemed to carry the house on hershoulders, and was noticeably sharp with the men and Chloe, who wasgrowing old as well as her mistress. Certainly she looked after allthings in a thrifty fashion that had already brought a crease betweenher eyes, young as she was. Faith was thin and fearful-looking, as if she expected some chiding innearly everything, and it rarely missed coming. For Rachel had beensorely disappointed in her marriage plans, and liked to make otherssuffer for her unhappiness. Primrose was like a butterfly in the plain old house, and seemed to makea swift dazzle. Aunt Lois warmed curiously toward her, feeling as if thesun was shining after a spell of lowering weather. She rose from her chair and laid aside her knitting. "Thee used to love the chickens so much, " she said gently. "We have somepretty ones. While thy aunt talks business let us get out and see them. I sit in doors so much thinking, and though I try not to question thewill of Providence, life does not seem quite as it used. It may be thatI am getting old. Poor mother used to sit under the tree yonder, butwhen it comes my time, Faith will be too womanly and too busy to lookafter me, and perhaps married. " They walked down the well-trodden path. There were chicken mothers inlittle coops, and yellow, downy balls, others with tiny wings andpatches of feathers here and there. "Thou didst see Andrew before he went away?" The mother's eyes had a soft, wistful, far-off look. "Yes. And a lovely letter that I have read again and again. Oh, why didI not bring it--but indeed I did not know"--pausing in a tone thatindicated what might be meant. "A mother is a mother always. A father may feel hard when his plans aretraversed. Tell me about my son; for I cannot shut my heart upon him. " "He makes a handsome soldier and a good one. He will have a large heartand a wise head. " "But a soldier! And to kill his fellow-creatures. We are to live inpeace. " "But I was to say when I could, that he kept thee in his heart day andnight, and that he would never forget thee. Dear Aunt Lois, he is braveand good and tender of soul, and I know God loves him for his work tothe poor and needy last winter. " "I have wondered many times how he escaped. We only knew that he wassafe. " "Someone betrayed him. He had taken great care. Wilt thou hear how heleft the town?" "Dost thou know?" raising her soft eyes. Primrose told gleefully how they had disguised him and seen him safe onthe road where he was not likely to meet the soldiery. "And thou didst do this for him, dear child!" She took the soft hands in hers, that were soft again now that she didlittle coarse labor. "It was not much to do, surely. And it was rare fun when the guardspassed us. " "I owe much to thee and Madam Wetherill. And did he speak of anyreturn?" "Nay, his is a soldier's life. " "I sometimes think it is not wisdom to plan children's lives. Perhaps ifwe had let him be, " and she gave a gentle sigh. "But we had hopes hewould fancy Rachel, and she somehow had set her heart upon it. He seemednot inclined to marry, and so we should have waited until the spiritguided him. Child, I thank thee for thy care and interest in him. Weshould have been glad if thou couldst have kept thy father's faith andbeen content to stay here, but I can see thou didst need a larger life. Perhaps we narrow ours too much. It may not always be the Lord's will aswe think. I have strange ideas as I sit and knit or sew. And I rememberthat good Mr. Penn and his wife took much pleasure of a kind we hardlyapprove of now. It is hard to tell which is right. " "Dear Aunt Lois, whatever leads people to be sweet and joyful andthankful and kind to all who suffer cannot be far wrong. And were thereno good men before the time of Mr. Fox and Mr. Penn?" "Thou wert always finding prettiness of speech and ways that have acharm in them. And if thou shouldst send word to Andrew at any time, tell him his mother's heart is tender towards him and that no one canfill his place. Thou hast given me much joy. But I can see thou art notfitted for the grave life here, and if our ancestors crossed the seathat they might have liberty of belief, why should we not grant it toothers?" James Henry no longer insisted upon what he called his rights in hisbrother's child. She was too gay and worldly for his taste, which, wherewomen were concerned, could have been comprised in the old advice "Toavoid Papishers and learn to knit. " And when he looked on the industryand thrift of Rachel his heart hardened toward his son for hisblindness. For Primrose went steadily now to Christ Church, but England would notsend over a bishop while people were so contumacious, and so some riteswere held in abeyance. But she was very happy and growing tall rapidly, and Friend Henry turnedher over altogether to Madam Wetherill, who after all was not forgottenby the fashionables, even if they did run after the Arnolds. And in the autumn there were some changes, although the Continentals hadnot swept their enemies across the sea. Society Hill put on a briskaspect, and gardens opened again where they sold beer and cakes, andyoung people chatted merrily, while older people gossiped. There wereshops trying to turn out much-needed goods that gave the town an aspectof industry. Indeed employment was provided for the poor classes inputting streets in order. All manner of homespun cloth was made. EvenMrs. Washington had ordered that her spinning wheels at Mount Vernonshould fly as briskly as if she were there, and sixteen were kept goingall the time. Franklin and John Adams were in France cementing the alliance that wasso slow in doing its promised work. At home, political leaders werequarreling fiercely among themselves. Joseph Reed and Arnold were atswords' points. A charge of dishonesty and malpractice in office waspreferred against Arnold before the Continental Congress, but, thoughconvicted, he was sentenced to a reprimand only. He had been a bravesoldier, and Washington, with a heart full of anxiety for otherundertakings, unfortunately dealt leniently with him, but it made noappeal to better feelings or conduct, for he began almost at once histreasonable practices with the British, that were to bring about alasting shame. There were other troubles as well. The Quakers could not and would notserve in the army nor pay taxes for its support. Franklin had known howto gain by diplomacy what they would not openly concede, but they wereunpopular with those in power, and the mob openly rejoiced when goodswere levied upon. Indeed many of the poorer and plainer brethren hadlittle sympathy when such articles as "a looking glass in wide gilt andmahogany frame, with ornamental corners" and "handsome walnut chairsdeeply carven and with silken cushions" and "mahogany tea table withcarved legs and crow feet" were sold for a quarter of their value. Itshows that many of the Friends were not stinted in their householdappointments, and must indeed have had sturdy consciences to part withtheir cherished belongings rather than pay away a little money in whatwas considered an unjust cause. New York was full of gayety and dissipation under the British, asPhiladelphia had been. And Primrose was sent for by her brother, who wasnow Colonel Nevitt and in a pleasant position. "There is much to see and enjoy, " he wrote. "And there are fine mannersand customs that will fit you for London when we go. For it is mostcertain, by the looks of things, that the rebellion will soon bebrought to an end. The winter in Philadelphia was a great mistake, though pleasant enough to me. And you must be now a pretty young womanthat I should be proud to have. If Madam Wetherill feels that she is notyoung enough for gayety, I have some friends here who will be glad totake charge of a fair young girl, and I shall be most happy with mycharming sister. There are parties coming almost every week, and I canfind safe escort. Do not disappoint me. " "What wilt thou do?" asked Madam Wetherill. "Thou art no longer a littlegirl, Primrose, though it grieves me to say it. Patty scolds aboutlengthening thy gowns all the time, and Anabella is sure I will keepthee an old maid. Though between two stools she is like to come to thefloor for aught I see. Her British lover never so much as wrote her aline, and young Matthews, that she made quite certain of, hath marriedKitty Strong. She need not worry about thee, since thou hast nearly twoyears' grace behind her. But her mother was so foolishly hasty to haveher married. " "But I want to stay a little girl, " cried Primrose eagerly. "I hate abig hoop and a monstrous topknot that pulls my hair, and a bunch offeathers that makes one look like an Indian sachem. " She made such a pretty pouting mouth, like a rose half-blown, that madamlaughed. "And then one can run around with Patty and tease the boys who sell pinkcalamus buds, and buy 'Peppery pot, smoking hot. '" She was such a goodmimic it sounded exactly like the venders. "I am afraid I have spoiled thee. But it is thy brother whom we mustconsider. He may have some rights. " "What rights, indeed, to a rebel maiden who would hate the sight of somany red coats together?" "Still thou dost love him a little. Surely he is thy nearest kin. " "I can never think whether I love him dearly or only a little. When Ipull a daisy out it says only a little. And when I blew a puffydandelion out to tell me where my true love dwelt, it went south insteadof north. " "But the great city. I was there once, years ago. It hath many queerthings and reminders of the old Dutch people who settled it. And it hasa beautiful river and an island south of it, and a short way out to theocean. " "As if we did not have our fine and noble Delaware that runs on and uppast the Jerseys to the State of New York. And there is our Schuylkillwith its peaceful shores and green and flowery banks, now that theBritish are away, and our beautiful Wissahickon. Nay, I want nothingbeyond my own home town, and no one but you and the friends that comehere. I will write to Phil and tell him that neither his tongue nor hispen can charm me. And he never says 'thou' latterly. " "But the young people here leave it off, I notice. And thou must notwrite saucily. " Primrose laughed and tossed her golden head. She wrote to her brother and put in some rhymes, a fashion quiteaffected then, for many of the young ladies wrote sentimental andwould-be satiric verses. Hannah Griffiths, who was cousin to DeborahLogan, had satirized the famous Mischianza, and there were songs forvarious occasions such as birthdays and weddings. Primrose wrote also to Andrew Henry. It was difficult to get lettersfrom the Federal soldiers unless some messenger came direct, but sheguessed how much pleasure the bit of news would be to him. She rode outto the farm occasionally and took a message from Aunt Lois to Andrew. Uncle James was growing quite deaf and irritable in temper, but AuntLois softened perceptibly and was always glad to see Primrose. Rachel had a new vexation that did not improve her temper. Chloegrumbled at the sharpness, but she was too old to think of another home. Faith was now a tall, thin girl, looking careworn and sallow. "I must walk a little with thee even if I should get beaten for itafterward, " she said in one of the visits, as she intercepted Primroseand Patty at the group of great sycamores that shut off the view of theroad. "For I feel sometimes as if the strings of my heart would burstwhen there is no one to talk to but old Chloe, and Rachel watches us asa cat does a mouse. " "She would not beat thee, surely. " Primrose's face was one indignantflame. "She did when I was smaller, until one day Aunt Lois interfered. Now sheslaps, and her hand is hard as a board; or she boxes my ears until bellsring in them. I know not what made her so cross at first, except thatshe tried to be sweet and pleasant to Andrew, and when he was gone allwas different. Now Penn walks home from meeting with Clarissa Lane andfinds excuses for going over there. But Rachel says he is needed here onthe farm since uncle cannot work as he used, and that he shall neithergo away to marry, nor bring a wife home here. They had a bitter quarrelone day. I was gathering sassafras and birch buds for her and they didnot know I was there. And Rachel said if he married Clarissa, she wouldpersuade uncle not to leave him any part of the farm. Ought not the farmbelong to Andrew?" Primrose shook her head doubtfully. "If I were a man I would run away and fight too. I would find Andrew andmarch and fight beside him. Oh, Primrose, thou canst never know how goodand sweet he was to me and what wise counsel he gave. And now I am sowretched!" "Poor girl, poor Faith!" Primrose cried, deeply moved. "If you couldcome into town----" "I can go nowhere, she says, until I am of age; if I did, that theconstable could bring me back, or I could be put in jail. And that if Ido not please her I shall have none of Uncle James' money. " "It is not honest to count on the money, and James Henry may live manyyears!" exclaimed Patty sharply. "If I had it I should give it back to Andrew. I feel as if we hadcrowded him out of his home. No one speaks of him but Aunt Lois and oldChloe, and Rachel frowns at her. Oh, if I dared come to thee, I would bea servant, or anything! Oh, Primrose, God hast set thee in a blessedgarden! Bend over and kiss me. And come again. It is like a bit ofheaven to see thee. " Then Faith vanished, and the tears ran down the pink cheeks of thechild. "Oh, what can we do?" she sobbed. "Nothing, dear, " returned Patty, much moved, and feeling that somecomfort was needed, even if it was only the sound of a human voice. "Friend Rachel hath grown hard through disappointment. Grace does notalways wrap itself in a plain garb, and a red rose is sweet and prettyin its redness. There is much selfishness in the world under all colors, methinks, and when it is gray; it grows grayer by the wearing. " CHAPTER XVII. MID WAR'S ALARMS. Madam Wetherill sighed over the affair and was sorry to hear of thefailing health of James Henry. But nothing could be done to ease upFaith's hard lines. She understood much more than she could explain tothe innocent Primrose; more indeed than she cared to have her know atpresent about the emotions the human soul. For she had the sweetunconsciousness of a flower that had yet to open, and she did not wantit rudely forced. Rachel's desire and disappointment must have soured her greatly, shethought. In spite of her training in resignation, human nature seemed asstrong in her as in any woman of the world who maneuvered for a lover. Yet Madam Wetherill was truly glad Andrew had escaped the snare. And now the country was in great disquiet again. Arnold's treason andits sad outcome in the death of the handsome and accomplished MajorAndré fell like a thunderbolt on the town where he had been the leaderof the gay life under Howe. Many women wept over his sad end. Washingtonhad been doubtful of Arnold's integrity for some time, but thoughtgiving him the command at West Point would surely attach him to hiscountry's fortunes. Washington being called to a conference with theFrench officers at Hartford, Arnold chose this opportunity to surrenderWest Point and its dependencies, after some show of resistance, intothe hands of the British for a certain sum of money. But Arnold had roused suspicions in the heart of more than one bravesoldier; among them Andrew Henry, who had been promoted to a lieutenancyfor brave conduct and foresight. Clinton was to sail up the river. André went up the Hudson in the sloopof war _Vulture_, which anchored off Teller's Point. Fearing they knewnot what, the Continentals dragged an old six-pound cannon to the end ofTeller's Point. That galled the _Vulture_ and drove her from heranchorage, so that she drifted down the river. André, therefore, wascompelled to make his way by land. Being arrested at Haverstraw, thecommander unwisely allowed him to send a letter to Arnold, who at oncefled down the river in a barge and met the _Vulture_, leaving behind hiswife, the beautiful Philadelphian, Margaret Shippen, and their infantson, and thus the chief traitor escaped. England had spent a vast amount of treasure and thousands of lives inbattles, hardships, and disease, and had not conquered therevolutionists. She had now involved herself in war with both France andSpain. Holland, too, was secretly negotiating a treaty with the UnitedColonies. While the town was in consternation over these events, late in NovemberMrs. Washington, then on her way to join her husband, stopped a briefwhile with President Reed of the Congress. Again the soldiers were ingreat distress, needing everything and winter coming on. The ladies hadformed a society for work, and were making clothing and gathering whatfunds they could. "Mrs. Washington is to come, " said Polly Wharton, dropping in at ArchStreet, full of eagerness. "The Marquis de Lafayette has given fivehundred dollars in his wife's name, and the Countess de Luzerne givesone hundred. When we count it up in our depreciated money it sounds muchgreater, " and Polly laughed with a gay nod. "Mrs. Washington has beggedto contribute also. It is said the commander in chief was almostheart-broken about that handsome young André, and would have saved himif he could. And Margaret Shippen comes home next to a deserted wife, atall events deserted in her most trying hour. Of course, Primrose, youwill join us. You can do something more useful than embroider roses on apetticoat, or needlework a stomacher. " "Indeed I can. Patty has seen to it that I shall know something besidesstrumming on the spinet and reading French verse. But the French are ourvery good friends. " "And I am crazy to see Mrs. Washington. There is devotion for you!" "If thou wert a commander's wife thou wouldst be doing the same thing, Polly. 'For, ' she said in the beginning, 'George is right; he is alwaysright. And though I foresee dark days and many discouragements, my heartwill always be with him and the country. ' If we had more such patriotsinstead of pleasure-loving women!" And Madam Wetherill sighed, thoughher face was in a glow of enthusiasm. "But there are many brave women who give up husbands and sons. Andthough my mother consented about Allin, it wrung her heart sorely. Wehave not heard in so long. That is the hardest. But we seem to get wordeasily of the gay doings in New York. And so thou wilt not go, Primrose?" "Indeed, I will not. What pleasure would it be to me to dance and be gaywith my country's enemies? I shall make shirts and knit socks. " "Yes, Primrose is old enough, but she somehow clings to childhood, " saidMadam. "We have spoiled her with much indulgence. " "Indeed, I am not spoiled. And if the British should take away all wehad, dear aunt, I would work for thee. I do know many things. " "Dear heart!" and Madam Wetherill kissed her. There was much interest to see Mrs. Washington, though some of theladies had met her on a previous visit. Madam Wetherill had been amongthose brave enough to ally herself with the cause by calling then, andMrs. Washington gracefully remembered it. "And this is the little girl, grown to womanhood almost, " she said, asPrimrose courtesied to her. "You are not a Friend, I see by your attire;but the name suggested someone----" "But my father was, madam, and well known in the town. And I have abrave Quaker cousin who joined the army at Valley Forge, Andrew Henry. " "Yes, I think that is the name. Did he not bring some supplies while wewere in so much want, and come near to getting in trouble? You must beproud of him indeed, for he was among those who suspected Arnold'streachery, and were so on the alert that they set some of his plans atnaught, for which we can never be thankful enough. Henry, that is thename! A tall fine young fellow with a martial bearing, one of thefighting Quakers, and Philadelphia hath done nobly in raising such men. The General never forgets good service, and he is marked for promotion. " Primrose courtesied again, her eyes shining with lustrousness that wasnear to tears. "I should almost have danced up and down and clapped my hands, or elsefallen at her feet and kissed her pretty hands if she had said thatabout Allin, " declared Polly afterward. "Oh, it was soul-stirring, andthe belles stood envying you, but some of them have blown hot and blowncold, and were ready to dance with Whig and Tory alike. And I wanted tosay that you were too patriotic to go up to New York and be merry withyour brother. Then I bethought me he was on the wrong side. Such asplendid fellow, too, Primrose; skating like the wind, and such adancer, and with so many endearing ways. Child, how can you resist him?" "I cannot be a turncoat for the dearest love. " "Andrew Henry should have been your brother. He looks more like thatgrand old portrait of your father than his own son does, " declaredPolly, and some inexplicable feeling sent the scarlet waves to the fairface of Primrose. Busy enough the women were, and on many of the shirts was the name ofthe maker. Primrose begged that Patty's name might be put on theirdozen, and Janice Kent consented hers should be used. "For Primrose is such an odd, fanciful name, and it seems as if itbelonged just to my own self and my dear mother, " the child said, andMadam Wetherill respected the delicacy. Mrs. Bache, Franklin's daughter, wrote to Washington that there weretwenty-five hundred shirts, the result of nimble and patriotic fingers;and, she added, "we wish them to be worn with as much pleasure as theywere made. " Philemon Nevitt was indeed angry at his sister's refusal, but as he wasin no sense her guardian, he could not compel her. Some weeks elapsedbefore he wrote again. It was a hard, cold winter, and if full ofdiscouragements for the Continentals was not especially inspiriting forthe British. There had been something of a revolt among the Philadelphia troops atMorristown, who thought, having served their three years' enlistment, they should be allowed to return to their homes. Sir Henry Clinton, mistaking the spirit of the trouble, at once offered to take them underthe protection of the British government, clothe and feed them andrequire no service of them, unless it was voluntarily proffered. "See, comrades, " exclaimed one of the leaders; "we have been taken fortraitors! Let us show General Clinton that the American Army can furnishbut one Arnold, and that America has no truer patriots than we. But ifwe fight, we should not be compelled to starve on the field, nor haveour wives and children starving at home. " This protest aroused Congress. Taxes were imposed and submitted tocheerfully, and Robert Morris, an ardent patriot, with Thomas Mifflin, labored to bring about a better state of finances, and the Bank ofPennsylvania was due to the ability and munificence of the former. And though, as Thomas Reed admitted, "the bulk of the people were wearyof war, " and the different parties in the city were almost at swords'points, they had all joined in fierce denunciation of Arnold's treason. His handsome estate was confiscated, not so much for its value, as itwas deeply in debt, but as an example of the detestation in which thecitizens held his crime. His wife pleaded to stay in her father's housewith her young son, but the executive council decided that she mustleave the State at once. The mob made a two-faced effigy, which was dragged in a cart through thestreets, a band of rough music playing the Rogue's March. Afterward itwas hanged and burned, and no Tory voice was raised in his behalf, though universal sympathy was expressed for the unfortunate young André. Philemon Henry was intensely bitter about it. "But you have not all thetraitors, " he wrote. "My heart has been rent by the defection of some ofour bravest men, and most trusted; and one who has seemed almost abrother to me, as we played together in boyhood, and have kept step inmany things. I had cherished a curious hope that he might disarm thygirlish bitterness, Primrose, and that sometime his true worth would beapparent to you. And from the first, though he never confessed anyfurther than that he envied me my pretty little sister, I knew he wasmore than common interested. These things are best left to workthemselves out, and you were both young, so I held my peace. Six monthsago Sir Gilbert Vane, the uncle, died, and, as title and estates wereentailed, Vane Priory came to him. At first he was minded to return, andI wish now that I had bundled him off. Then he had queer, dispiritedfits about the cause we were serving. I regret we have not been more inearnest and not so much given to pleasure. The city has been very gay, but I think many of the women whose feet twinkled merrily in the dancetalked treason with rosy lips in the pauses. "I was angry when I read your letter and tossed it over to him, wishingthat I had been your guardian and had some right to order your life. Heheld it a long while, then he rose and began to pace the floor. "'I tell you, Phil, ' he said with strange earnestness, 'we are on thewrong side. Nothing can ever conquer these people while the love oftheir own country outweighs everything else. If the women feel this way, and cannot be tempted, no wonder the men are steadfast and go in ragsand half starve and take any hardship. We forget that they are our ownkin, of our own brave English blood, and would we tolerate an invader?Would we not fight to the last man? It would be nobler to go home andlet them rule themselves, for we can never conquer them. ' "'You talk treason, ' I said angrily. 'You had better be careful. ' "'They are talking the same thing in the House of Parliament. I havebeen paying more attention to these things of late, and I feel that inthe end we shall be worsted. Better make brothers of them now while wecan. If this were my country, my birthplace----' "'Hold!' I cried in a passion. 'I am an Englishman. That is the countryof my mother's birth, and my father had good English blood in his veins. My Uncle Henry thinks the rebels all in the wrong, and I know well myfather would never have sided with them. My sister would have beenbrought up to love the King. ' "He made no answer, but went out presently. Then for some days he wasmoody and kept himself quite busy, and I thought was planning to returnto England to look after his estates. Our colonel thought so, too. Andthen five others beside him suddenly disappeared. Shortly after welearned they had gone South to enter the army under General Greene. Ionly hope they will fall into Tarleton's hands, and he will make shortwork of them. But my heart is sore for the loss of my boyhood's friend, and the shame of his turning traitor. I hear that Benedict Arnold hasjoined the King's forces, and of a surety he and they would be wellmatched in any fight. "I have a presentiment I shall never see my pretty darling again. Primrose, I love thee more than thou canst imagine. I would that I hadthee and that we two were going to England out of this terrible strife. Farewell. "Thine own dear brother, "PHIL. " Primrose ran weeping to her aunt and gave her the long epistle. MadamWetherill tried to comfort her, and presently she dried her tears alittle. "We can hardly call him a traitor, --Gilbert Vane, I mean, --for he hasnot really betrayed his country, but changed his mind. And I think itvery brave of him when he might go to England and live in luxury, " saidPrimrose in a broken voice. "Thou art quick to see the heroic side. Of course, if he should be takenprisoner, he would be put to death without mercy. " "But he does not sell his country!" with emphasis. "Oh, poor, dear Phil!My heart aches for him. And yet, if the British soldiers begin to seethe doubtfulness of a final conquest, I think there must be hope. Butwhat can I say to Philemon? I seem destined to be always divided inopposite directions. " "That is very true, " and Madam Wetherill smiled rather sadly. For itseemed hard indeed that brother and sister should have such opposinginterests. Many a girl would have been won at once by the proffer ofpleasure. But Primrose did not have very long to consider. Another note came fromNew York. Tired of inaction, Philemon Nevitt had asked that some morestirring duty should be allotted to him, and he was transferred toanother body of troops, who were watching the Americans and harassingthem in the vicinity of Morristown. It was said deserters from theBritish army had transferred their allegiance, and Colonel Nevittdetermined to put a stop to this, and capture some of them to make anexample the soldiers would dread in future. "When he writes like this I hate him!" and Primrose stamped her daintyfoot upon the floor, while her eyes flashed with curious steely gleamsthat seemed to have black points. "It does not seem as if the same bloodcould run in our veins, but then he hath none of my own dear mother'ssweetness. If he were related to her my heart would break. And I thinkhe must have some of the characteristics of uncle James, who keeps hishard heart against Cousin Andrew. Was my father of that stamp, dearmadam?" "He had a much broader life. He was brought into contact with variouspeople, and possessed a certain suavity that one finds in many of theold families here in town. Good Mr. Penn did not insist that men shouldbe all of one mind. " "'Twould be a queer world indeed, " and Primrose half smiled, for hermoods were like an April day. "Then thy mother was a wise, winsome woman, " said Madam Wetherill infond remembrance. "That is what wins me to Phil, " returned the girl. "When he talked ofher and all her pretty ways, and the dainty verses and tales she toldhim, and how she shielded him from his father's displeasure when hewould have been whipped, then he seems like a vision of her come back. But, now that he is going to fight against my country----" and the rosylips curled in scorn. "He might have remained a fine, pleasure-lovingsoldier, doing no real harm, fit to dance with pretty women or march ina fine parade. " She discussed this with Polly Wharton, who was now her dearest friend, although she was two years older. "Art thou not unduly bitter, Primrose?" Polly always chided in graveQuaker phraseology, but, like many of the younger generation, fell intoworldly pronouns in seasons of haste or merriment. "We should be ashamedof him if he saw his duty and weakly shirked it. I am sorry such a finefellow, with good American blood in his veins, should be a Tory. Intruth I cannot see at present how the quarrel can be mended, and I amdesperately sorry. " Polly's cheeks were pink as a rose. "It never will be mended now. Times are hard with us, to be sure, andthere is much discouragement, but the French army and a great navy havereached Newport, and Aunt Wetherill was reading of a French loan. Thatwise Mr. Adams is in Paris with our dear Mr. Franklin----" "Who plays chess with French beauties and writes them skits andbagatelles, and, no doubt dances the grave minuet with them. And then weblame our young lads for having a little pleasure! But 'tis darkestjust before dawn, and maybe we have come to the darkest times. " "And I am certain the dawn will come. God will not let such a good causeand so great an effort in behalf of human liberty go by default. " So they worked on and hoped. There was great interest in the Southerncampaign now. And then Polly came one morning, full of tears and trouble. There hadbeen sad news from the highlands of the Hudson. A troop of British hadmade their way almost to one of the camps, expecting to surprise andcapture the Federal soldiers. There had been a sharp skirmish, spiritedand fateful enough to be called a battle. The Federals had won in theend and taken a number of prisoners, while many British soldiers wereamong the killed and wounded. "Andrew Henry sent the word to my father, who means to apply for passesand go at once, " and there Polly broke down. "But that is not the worst of it. Something has happened to Allin! Oh, Polly!" and the soft arms were about Polly's neck, while she was kissingthe tear-wet cheek, her own eyes overflowing. "Yes, it is Allin!" sobbed the girl. "They thought when they firstbrought him in that he was dead. But it seems now he is badly woundedand may live. They wanted to take his leg off, but Lieutenant Henrywould not let them. Oh, poor Allin! And he begged that father would comeor send, for the regiment may go on to Virginia. " "Oh, if he could be brought home!" "It comes so near now. " Polly wiped her eyes. "But oh, Primrose! I hadnigh forgotten. Forgive me that I put my own sorrow first. Colonel--Ibelieve he is that now--Colonel Nevitt led the men and was wounded also, and is captured. " Primrose stood up very straight, and contradictory emotions struggled inher fair face. Her rosy lips faded and quivered, and she swallowed overa great lump in her throat. "It seems strange, " said Polly, "that the cousins should have beenpitted against each other. And, though I am desperately sorry aboutColonel Nevitt, I am proud of Andrew Henry. Oh, dear Primrose!" "I am always torn in two. I wonder if there was ever such a girl!" andthe slow tears beaded the bronze lashes of Primrose Henry's eyes. "Think of poor Peggy Shippen being banished from her family and forcedto follow a traitor! For, after all, it was the fortune of war, andColonel Nevitt was doing his duty as he saw it in all good faith. " "Thou art so generous, Polly. He should have been some connection tothee; oh! what am I saying? Surely thou wouldst not want a redcoatBritisher tacked to thy family! I hope he is not sorely wounded, butjust enough to keep him from fighting against my country until we havewon our independence. " "Thou dost make cunning wishes, Primrose, " and in spite of her sorrow, Polly Wharton smiled. Madam Wetherill came home from her marketing, which was no lightundertaking with all the trouble about paper money, and gold and silverso scarce. She still rode her horse well, and time dealt very lenientlywith her. "I heard some strange news in the market place, " she began, and thenshe caught sight of Polly. "Oh, dear child! is it true that some of theflower of our town have perished? It was a great surprise, to capturesome deserters, it was said, and went hard with our brave men. " "Nay, Lieutenant Henry won in the end, and our loss was nothing comparedto the enemy. But poor Allin----" "He is not dead, " added Primrose, when Polly's voice failed. "And, madam, Cousin Andrew hath taken our heroic Colonel Nevitt a prisoner inhis first battle. I know not whether to rejoice or cry. " "Primrose, thou art a naughty girl!" "If it had been the other way, I should have had no difficulty. Yes, Iam a hard-hearted little wretch and do not deserve any brother! ButAndrew will see that he is not treated as the poor fellows were in theWalnut Street Jail; and if he should lose an arm or a leg I will devotemy life to him. Oh!" with a sudden burst of tenderness, "I hope it isnothing serious. The mortification will be hard enough. " There were numbers of the wounded sent as soon as possible to the largercities where they could be cared for. Rough journeying it was, with noneof the modern appliances of travel, and many a poor fellow died on theway. For various reasons Madam Wetherill had not gone out to the farm asusual. The news was troublesome from Virginia and Maryland, where Arnoldwas destroying stores and laying waste plantations. The seat of warseemed to be changing in this direction, and some of the most famousbattles were to be fought here. Cornwallis was fortifying, and everybodydreaded the news. Pleasure in town had slipped back to a more decorous aspect. There weresimple tea-drinkings and parties of young people going out on the riverin the early evening singing pretty songs. Or there were afternoonrambles to the charming green nook called Bethsheba's Bath and Bower, where wild flowers bloomed in profusion, and the copses were fragrantwith sweet herbs, growing wild; or the newly cut hay in the fields stillabout. Sometimes they took along a luncheon and some sewing. There werestill windmills to grind the grain, and Windmill Island had beenrepaired and was busy again. Primrose seemed just beginning life. Hitherto she had been a child, andnow she was finding friends of her own age, with whom it was a pleasureto chat and to compare needlework and various knowledges. She sympathized tenderly with Polly Wharton in her sorrow, and began togo frequently to the house. Next in age to Polly were two boys, and thena lovely little girl. Another incident had made the summer quite notable to Primrose. This wasthe marriage of Anabella Morris, which took place in Christ Church. Anabella's husband was a widower with two quite large children, but ofconsiderable means. Madam Wetherill was very generous with her outfit, though she began to feel the pinch of straitened means. So much propertywas paying very poorly and some not rented at all. Primrose was one of the maids, and consented to have her hair done highon her head and wear a train, and to be powdered, though Madam Wetherilldisapproved of it for young people who had pretty natural complexions. Some young women wore a tiny bit of a black patch near their smilinglips, or a dimple, as if to call attention to it. "And, if it grew there, they would move heaven and earth to have ittaken off, " said that lady with a little scorn. The bride's train was held up by a page dressed in blue and silver, andthen followed the pretty maids, and the relatives. It was quite a braveshow, and a proud day for Anabella, who had been dreaming of it sinceshe was a dozen years old. Madam Wetherill gave her a wedding dinner, which now would be called abreakfast, so much have things changed, and then a coach took the newlymarried pair to their own home. Though Anabella would rather not havehad another woman's children to manage, she was truly glad that all heranxieties in husband-hunting were over. Then Mr. Wharton came home with his son, who was still in a quiteuncertain state, and it had been a question whether his shattered legcould be saved. But Dr. Benjamin Rush took it in hand and said it wouldbe a shame indeed if such a fine young fellow would have to stump aroundall the rest of his life on a wooden leg. CHAPTER XVIII. WHOM SHALL SHE PITY? September came in with all the glory of ripening fruit and the laterich-colored flowers, with here and there a yellow leaf on thesycamores, a brown one on the hickories, and a scarlet one on themaples. There were stirring events, too. A French vessel had arrivedwith stores and four hundred thousand crowns in specie, besides anaccession of enthusiastic men to the army. General Washington haddetermined to attempt the capture of New York, but hearing there werelarge re-enforcements on the way to Sir Henry Clinton, allowed theBritish to believe this was his plan and turned his army southward. A gala time indeed it was for the Quaker city. For the Continentals wereno longer ragged, but proudly marched in the glory of new shoes andunpatched breeches and newly burnished accouterments. The Frenchregiment of DeSoissonnais, in rose-color and white, with rose-coloredplumes, was especially handsome and quite distanced our own armytrappings, that had never been fine. General Washington, CountRochambeau, and M. De Luzerne, the French minister, with Chief JusticeMcKean reviewed the troops. The sober citizens were stirred to unwontedenthusiasm. Houses were decorated, windows filled with pretty girlswaved handkerchiefs, and the mob shouted itself hoarse with joy; goingat night to the residence of the French minister and shouting lustilyamid the cheering for the King, Louis XVI. The hall boy ushered in a fine martial-looking man in officer's dress atMadam Wetherill's. A number of guests were in the parlor, and hehesitated a moment before he said: "Summon Miss Primrose Henry. " "Grand sojer man in buff and blue, " he whispered. "'Spect it GeneralWashington hisself. " Primrose flashed out. For a moment she stood amazed. It was not herbrother. "Primrose, hast thou forgotten me?" "Oh!" with a glad cry of joy. "Oh, Andrew, " and she was clasped in thestrong arms and greeted with a kiss. "Yes, " joyfully. "All the march I have counted on this moment. I couldnot wait until to-morrow. Primrose, how are they--my dear mother?" "She is quite well, but Uncle Henry fails and has grown very deaf. And Ithink Rachel and Penn do not agree well, and are not happy. But thingsgo on the same. " "And is there--any longing for me?" Oh, how cruel it was to feel that only the poor mother cared. ForPrimrose was not old enough nor suspicious enough to imagine the hundredlittle ways Rachel found to blame Andrew and widen the breach betweenhim and his father. "Thy mother is always asking for thee. I learn thy infrequent letters byheart, and repeat them to her as I get opportunity. " "Thank thee a thousand times. " "And my brother?" "Hast thou not heard?" "Not since the return of Allin Wharton. He is still ill and no one seeshim, but Polly tells me now and then. Only he is not allowed to excitehimself by talking, and it is such little dribbles that I cannot gleanmuch. And you met face to face?" "We were both doing our duty like brave men, I trust. I'm not sure butin the mêlée that Allin saved my life, and then----" "Thou couldst have taken his! Oh, Andrew, thank God it was not so, " andher voice was tremulous with the joy of thanksgiving. "A soldier fired and wounded his right shoulder. " Andrew did not saythat it was only a hair's-breadth escape of his own life. "Neither knewhe should meet the other. " "And what hath happened since?" "He was paroled and exchanged. Since then I have heard nothing. And nowI must go. First to see Allin, and then our Commander. The bulk of thetroops are still to follow in the steps of these noble Frenchmen. Andto-morrow night I must start south on an important mission. In themorning I shall see thee again. My respects to Madam Wetherill. " Her arms were about his neck. How tall she had grown! He remembered whenshe had first come to Cherry farm he had carried her about in his arms. "Dear----" He unclasped the clinging hands softly. And then he turnedthe door knob and was gone. She ran to her room, a pretty chamber next to Madam Wetherill's, now, and burying her face in the pillow, cried for ever so many causes, itseemed to her. Sorrow that her brother should not have cared enough towrite, grief that they two should have met in strife, thanksgiving thatneither should be guilty of the awful weight of the other's blood, joythat she should have seen Andrew, and pain and grief that he could notgo home as a brave and well-loved son. It was quite late when Madam Wetherill came up, when the last guest hadgone. "I thought it was thy cousin, and I knew thou would not feel likefurther gayety, though all the town seems wild, as if we had gained avictory. These French soldiers in their fine attire have turnedeveryone's head. After all, methinks gay clothes have their uses andhelp to preserve the spirits. And Andrew--Major Henry, do we call him?" Primrose smiled then. "He is my own dear cousin and never forgets me. And he wished his respects to thee, and will come to-morrow morning. AndColonel Nevitt has been paroled and is in New York. " "Go to bed now. It is full midnight. The rest will keep, " and she pattedthe soft cheek, warm with flushes of satisfaction. Major Henry came the next morning. Madam Wetherill was struck with thelikeness he bore his uncle, and certainly be made a grand-lookingsoldier. Then he had to tell all about the affray, but Primrose came toknow afterward that he made light of his part in it, and but for hissuspicions and presence of mind there would have been great slaughter. "I can hardly venture to predict, but it does seem to me that we arenearing the end of the brunt of the fighting. It will be no secret in afew days, but I can trust thee, I know. The French fleet may be in theChesapeake even now, and though Cornwallis hath fortified Yorktown andGloucester, we shall have the British between two fires, and all aid cutoff, even escape. I think we shall capture them, and if so, it will bea blow they cannot recover from. War is cruel enough. I do not wonderChristian people oppose it. But slavery of the free spirit is worsestill, and if one must strike, let it be in earnest. But we have goneagainst fearful odds. " "Heaven knows how thankful we shall be to see it ended. And yet thereare nations that have fought longer still, " subjoined Madam Wetherillthoughtfully. "And I hope, when we are through with the enemy, we shall not quarrelamong ourselves as to the making of a great country and nation. It isnot given to many men to have breadth and wisdom and foresight. " "And there have been disputes enough here. I sometimes wonder if menhave any good sense. " "Thou hast not a wonderfully high opinion of them, " and Andrew smiled. "A party of women could be but little worse, and sometimes I think woulddo better. " They talked about young Wharton, and Andrew instanced many brave acts onhis part. "If thou hadst seen them patient in hunger and cold, with poorfrost-bitten feet, and hardly a place to shelter them from the storm, thou wouldst not rail at them. " "It is the stay-at-home soldiers who fight battles over the councilboard and always win, and know just what every general and every privatecould do, that provoke me! I wish sometimes they could be put in theforefront of the battle. " "They would learn wisdom, doubtless. An enemy on paper is easilymanaged. " Then Andrew had to go. And though he longed to press a kiss on the sweetrosy lips that were fond enough last night, Primrose seemed quite a tallyoung woman, and a child no longer; so, although the leave-taking wasvery sincere, it had a delicate formality in it. They had hardly time to consider anything, for the next day brought atax on their sympathies. Primrose remembered a long ago winter when MissBetty Randolph had come from Virginia to get some city accomplishments, and flashed in and out of the great house and gone to parties, and hadbeen the envy of Anabella Morris. She had married shortly after and hadtwo babies. And now her father's farm had been despoiled and he renderedhomeless, her husband had been killed in battle, and they had made theirway northward, hoping to find a friend in Madam Wetherill. Nor were they mistaken. There were the two elderly people, Betty and herbabies, and a younger sister. The only son was in General Greene's army. "There is plenty of room at the farm, " said Madam Wetherill. "I am notas young as I used to be and it gets a greater care year by year, and Ithink I grow fonder of the city. It would be well to have someone thereall the time, and Cousin Randolph understands farming. " "And this is the shy little yellow-haired Primrose, grown up into apretty girl, " Betty said in surprise. "I remember you were full of thosequaint Quaker 'thees and thous. ' But certainly you are a Quaker nolonger, with that becoming attire? Oh, child, be glad you have notsupped sorrow's bitter cup. " There was so much on hand getting them settled that Primrose could notgo to Uncle Henry's with her blessed news at once. It was always pain aswell as pleasure. Sometimes she could hardly find a free moment withAunt Lois, so jealously did Rachel watch them. And though Primrose hadplanned talks with Uncle James they invariably came to nought, for shecould never surprise him alone, and he was so hard of hearing she knewthere would be listeners. Faith was upstairs spinning on the big wheel, and her window overlookedthe stretch of woods that shut out the road altogether. Aunt Lois satknitting, Rachel was making some stout homespun shirts for winter wear, and Uncle James was lying on the bed asleep. "Thou hast something else in thy face, " began Aunt Lois presently, whenPrimrose had recounted the misfortunes of the Randolphs and the shelterthat had opened before them. "Hast thou heard from----" "I have seen him!" Primrose clasped both hands and the knitting fell tothe floor. "Seen him! Oh, child! Hath he been here?" Her voice quavered and her eyes filled with tears. Rachel picked up the knitting with a frown. The needle had slipped outhalf-way. "Thou mightst have shown a little more care, Primrose, " beginning topick up the stitches. "Tell me, tell me! Is he here now?" "He came with the French soldiers. Oh, how fine and gallant they were!He could only stay one night, for the Commander had some specialbusiness for him at the seat of war. All the troops are going on, and itis hoped that, when the Continentals win, this will lead to peace. " "When they win, " said Rachel with doubtful scorn. "It seems as if theycared for nothing but going on and on like quarrelsome children, and nogood comes of it. No good can come of such an evil as war. And if yousell anything, here is all this wretched, worthless money! I had ratherhave good British gold. " "So Arnold thought. " Primrose's mirth-loving eyes danced with a sense ofretaliation. "There has been some French gold quite as good, since ithas clothed our troops and given them many comforts. And, Aunt Lois, heis well and splendid, the picture of my own father, Aunt Wetherillthinks. He sent so much love, and if the war should end he will comehome for good. He is not fond of battle, but you may know how good asoldier he has proved, since he has gone from private to major. " Aunt Lois looked up with tender, longing eyes. "Then I shall see him, "she said. "He will not stay away?" "Oh, surely, surely! If there had been time he would have come now. Andoh, Aunt Lois, up there on the Hudson we almost lost him. There was asudden surprise, and, but for young Allin Wharton, it might have gonehard indeed with him. " She could not confess that it was a kindred hand raised against him, though her quick flush betrayed some deep feeling. "Heaven be thanked! And the young man?" "He was wounded then and again later on, but has been brought home andis mending. And surely God was watching over Andrew, for he had no hurtwhatever. And I feel sure now he will come back safe to us. " Rachel Morgan's face worked with some deep passion, and grew darkerunder the sunburn. The young girl's delight angered her. Perhaps, too, the beauty and grace, the cloth habit fitting her slim, elegant figure, the beaver hat that looked so jaunty and had in it some long cock'splumes, quite a new fashion. Then there was the trim foot with its fineshoe and steel buckle, all gauds of worldliness to be sure, but theywould attract a man's eye. Rachel had not been beautiful in her childhood, but the tender gracethat softens so many faces had not been allowed its perfect work onhers. She looked older now than her years and there were hard lines thatsome day would be avarice, uncharity, and other evil traits. Then thisgirl was an idle butterfly, frisking from one folly to another in awicked and worldly fashion, even despising the plain faith her fatherhad intended she should follow. "Oh, " exclaimed Aunt Lois, after a blissful communing with her soul invery thankfulness, "thou puttest new life into me. I can feel it runthrough like the breeze in the grass. Sometimes I think with the wiseman that few and evil have been my days, and I would not have themunduly prolonged, but to see my son again, my dear son!" The smile was so sweet that Primrose, leaning over, kissed into it andthen both smiled again, while there were tender tears in the eyes ofboth. "And now I must go, " Primrose said presently, "but I will try to comesooner again. It is such fine weather that the orchards are full offruit and the wild grapes and the balsams fill the air with fragrance. Oh, Aunt Lois, God must have made such a beautiful world for us toenjoy. He cannot mean to have us frown on this, and wait until we get toheaven, for then the smiles and joy will not come so readily. " "It is flippant for thee to talk of heaven this way. We do not godancing into it. We must fashion our lives on more godly things, " saidRachel rebukingly. Primrose made no reply, but drew on her glove. "Then I shall not see Faith, " she said rather disappointedly as sherose. "Where is Faith?" Aunt Lois looked up. "She idled so much yesterday that she did not finish her stent, and shehas a larger share this afternoon. " Rachel followed the girl out. The horses stood in the shade and Jerryhad been lounging on the grass, but he sprang up and doffed his hat tohis young mistress. "I have something to say to thee. " Rachel took her arm and turned heraway from the house and Jerry as well. "Dost thou truly think Andrewwill return?" "He will return. " There was an exultant ring of hope and youth in thesweet voice that smote the listener. "And then, " very deliberately, as if her words meant to cut something, they were so sharp and cold, "then you will marry him. " "Marry him? I?" There was indignation in every line of the face and Rachel noted it withsecret joy, though her countenance remained unmoved. "Yes, " persistently. "Thou hast always been fondling about him andkissing him, and such foolishness wins a man when plain common sensegets flouted. " "I have never thought of such a thing, " and her face was full ofsurprise, though the lovely color kept coming and going, and her eyesflashed a little. "I do not want any lovers, and as for husbands, nothing would tempt me to change with Mistress Anabella. And there ispoor Betty Randolph, full of sorrow. No, I mean to be like MadamWetherill, who can always do as she pleases. " "Silly child! I should be sorry indeed for the man who took thee. ButMadam Wetherill was married once. " "And her husband died. No, I cannot bear death and sorrow, " and she gavea quick shiver. "Thou hast made trouble enough for Andrew. First it was getting away andmooning over books and strange things, instead of useful ones. Then itwas passing food and clothing out to Valley Forge, and running his neckin a noose. Then it was going to war, for which his father disownedhim. " "Nay, not that altogether. " She looked steadily at Rachel, whose eyesfell a little. "Yes, if he had not gone he would not have been disowned. It was throughthy preachment. Thou hast cost him trouble everywhere. And now, if heshould return, thou canst make or mar again. " "I shall not mar, " proudly. "It stands this way. Thy mother was one of the smiling, tempting, deceitful women, who can twist a man about her finger. She spoiled thyfather's life and would have won him from the faith----" Primrose's slim form trembled with indignation and Rachel coweredbeneath the flashing eye. "That is a falsehood, Mistress Rachel, and God will surely mark thee forit! There is an old journal of my father's that, beside business datesand comments, has bits of sweetness about her, and how he thanks God forher, and that she is the sunshine of his life, and if he were to loseher, all would be darkness. Madam Wetherill is to give it to me when Iam quite grown. " "I but repeat what I have heard Uncle James say. And if thou wert tomarry Andrew he would forbid him the house as much as he did when Andrewbecame a soldier. He does not approve of thee nor thy tribe. " The hot blood stained the girl's cheeks. Yes, she had long mistrustedthat her uncle did not like her, and that he fancied in some way MadamWetherill had gotten the better of him. "I am not going to marry Andrew--nor anyone. I love him very much, but Iknow it is not in that way. And my own life is growing exceeding sweet, day by day. It is like a garden full of wonderful flowers that no onecan guess until they bloom. " "Then thou wilt not hinder him again? His father's heart hath growntender toward him, and I can persuade if I have this surety to go upon. " "And then--dost thou hope to marry him?" "I hope for nothing, Miss Impertinence. I only want that Andrew shall berestored. " A willful mood came over Primrose. What if she did not promise? "There is little dependence on thee, I see. I was a fool to think it. Girls like thee play with men's hearts. " Rachel turned away with a bitter curl of the lip, and held her head updeterminedly. "Oh, Rachel, if that will help, I promise. If thou wilt do thy best tosoften Uncle James. I care not so much that he shall regard me withfavor. I have many to love me. " Rachel turned back a step, caught the round arm and held it up. "Promise, " she cried, almost fiercely. "I promise, " Primrose said solemnly. "That is in the sight of God. Thou wilt be a very wicked girl to breakit. " "I shall not break it. Oh, Rachel, do thy best to restore peace. For toAndrew it would be great joy. " Then she went over to Jerry, who helped her into the saddle. The girlscuriously enough had not said good-by to each other. Rachel had goneinto the house. "I did it for the best, " she was thinking to herself. "There should bepeace between them, for Uncle James acts strangely sometimes. And thenif Andrew hath any gratitude--perhaps soft measures may conquer. Hismother wishes for the marriage as well. " Primrose seemed in no haste and the ride was long. She was annoyed thatRachel should talk of her marrying. And her brother, she remembered, hadconfessed a half-formed plan of wedding her to Gilbert Vane. Why couldnot everybody let her alone? Madam Wetherill never spoke of it, and shewas glad. Where was Gilbert Vane? And oh, where was her poor brother? The softwind cooled her cheeks and the longing brought tears to her eyes. "How late thou hast stayed, " said Madam Wetherill with tender chiding. "I hope nothing was amiss?" "Oh, no, dear madam. The air was so fine that I loitered. And the darkseems to fall suddenly when it does come. " "Thou must change thy habit and come to supper. Put on a jacket andpetticoat, and afterward one of thy best gowns, for there is to be someyoung company. Pamela Trumbull sent word 'That she would come with ahost of cousins, and thou must have in thy best singing teeth. ' The maidis always full of merry conceits. And over our teacups thou shalt tellme about the Henrys. " Primrose repeated all but her last interview with Rachel. Delicacyforbade that. And then Patty helped her into a furbelowed gown of chinasilk that had been made from Madam Wetherill's long-ago treasures andhad a curious fragrance about it. The young people came, a merry company, and first they had a game offorfeits and some guessing puzzles. Then Pamela, who had quite bewitchedher cousin with tales of Primrose's singing, insisted that she should goto the spinet. She found a song. "Oh, not that foolish one, " cried Primrose, blushing scarlet. "It is so dainty and no one sings it as you do. And in the print storeon Second Street there was a laughable picture of such a pretty, dolefulCupid shut out of doors in the cold, that I said to Harry, 'MistressPrimrose Henry sings the most cunning plaint I know, and you shall hearit. '" Mr. Henry Beall joined his persuasion and they found the music. Primrosehad a lovely voice and sang with a deliciously simple manner. "As little Cupid play-ed, The sweet blooming flowers among, A bee that lay concealed Under the leaf his finger stung. Tears down his pretty cheeks did stream From smart of such a cruel wound, And crying, through the grove he ran, Until he his mammy found. "'Mammy, I'm sorely wounded, A bee has stung me on the plain, My anguish is unbounded, Assist me or I die with pain. ' She smil-ed then, replying, Said, 'O my son, how can it be? That by a bee you're dying, -- What must she feel who's stung by thee?'" There was a burst of eager applause. "It was a quaint old song when I was young, " said Madam Wetherill. "Thenthere are some pretty ones of Will Shakespere's. " "This is what I like, " began Primrose. "Tell me not, sweet, I am unkinde. " She sang it with deep and true feeling, Lovelace's immortal song. Andshe moved them all by her rendering of the last two lines in her proudyoung voice-- "I could not love thee, dear, so much, Loved I not honor more. " Then Mistress Kent would have them come out for curds and cream andfloating islands, and they planned a chestnutting after the first frostcame. They were merry and happy, even if the world was full of sorrow. Yet it seemed so mysterious to Primrose that the songs should be so muchabout love, and that stories were written and wars made and kingdomslost for its sake. What was it? No, she did not want to know, either. And just now she felt infinitely sorry for Rachel. Come what might, Andrew would not marry her. How she could tell she did not know, but shefelt the certainty. "Do not sit there by the window, Primrose, or thou wilt get moon-struckand silly. And young girls should get beauty sleep. Come to bed atonce, " said Madam Wetherill. But after all she admitted to herself that Primrose was not urgently inneed of beauty sleep. CHAPTER XIX. THE MIDNIGHT TIDINGS OF GREAT JOY. Old Philadelphia had fallen into her midnight nap. Since Howe's timethere had been a more decorous rule, and the taverns closed early. Therewere no roystering soldiers flinging their money about and singing songsin King George's honor, or ribald squibs about the rebels, and braggartrhymes as to what they would do with them by and by. Everything, thisOctober night, was soft and silent. Even party people had gone home longago, and heard the watchman sing out, "Twelve o'clock and all is well!"Only the stars were keeping watch, and the winds made now and then arustle. Someone rode into the town tired and exhausted, but joyful, and withjoyful news. The German watchman, who caught it first, went on hisrounds with, "Past two o'clock and Lord Cornwallis is taken. " He came down Arch Street. Madam Wetherill had been rather wakeful. Whatwas it? She threw up the window and the sonorous voice sang out again, "Past two o'clock and Lord Cornwallis is taken!" "Oh, what is it, madam?" cried Patty, coming in in her nightgown andcap. "It is enough to make one faint with joy! Patty, wake Joe at once andsend him down the street. It can't be true!" "But what is it?" in alarm. "If I was not dreaming it is that Lord Cornwallis is taken. But I amafraid. Patty, it is a great victory for our side. Run quick!" Joe, rolled up in his warm blanket, had to be thumped soundly before hewould wake. "Put on your clothes this instant, " and Patty stood over him, giving hima cuff on one ear, then on the other to balance him. "Run down thestreet, and if you don't find Lord Cornwallis taken don't pretend toshow your face here again in this good rebel household. For now we daresail under true colors!" But others had heard. In early morning before the day was awake therewas such a stir that the old town scarcely knew itself. One cried toanother. There were a thousand doubts and fears until the messenger wasfound, quite gone with fatigue, on a bench at a tavern, with a greatcrowd around him. "Yes, " he said, "on the nineteenth, four days ago. They were between thedevil and the deep sea. They tried to escape on the York River, but astorm set in and they were driven back. And there was the Frenchsquadron to swallow them up, and the French and American troops postedabout in a big half circle! 'Twas a splendid sight as one would wish tosee! And there was nothing but surrender, or they would all have beencut to pieces. And such a sight when my lord sent General O'Hara withhis sword and the message, not having courage to come himself. Then wewere hustled off with the news. There's the posts of Yorktown andGloucester and seven thousand or so soldiers, and stores and arms andcolors and seamen and ships. By the Lord Harry! we're set up for life!And now let me eat and drink in peace. By night there'll be someone elseto tell his story. " Surely never had there been such an early rising. Neighbors and friendswrung each other's hands in great joy and talked in broken sentences, though there were some Tories who said the thing was simply impossible, and rested in serene satisfaction. Primrose had roused, and was so wild with joy that there could be nothought of a second nap. And after breakfast she was crazy to go over toWalnut Street to Polly Wharton's. The servant sent her into the small anteroom, for she wasn't quite sureMistress Polly was in. And there, in a long easy-chair Dr. Rush hadplanned and a skilled carpenter made, that could be lowered into a bedat will, reclined a pale young fellow with a mop of chestnut hair, andtemples that were full of blue veins, as well as the long, thin hands. "Oh--it is Mistress Primrose Henry--but I was hardly sure! You are sotall, and you were such a little girl. Oh, do you remember when I ranover you on the Schuylkill and quarreled with your brother and wanted tofight a duel? I can just see how you looked as you lay there in hisarms, pale as death, with your pretty yellow hair floating about. Well, I had a monstrous bad hour, I assure you. And you were such a gay, saucylittle rebel, and so full of enthusiasm! By George! I believe you sentus all to war. And now this glorious news, and Andrew Henry in the midstof it all! It makes a fellow mad, and red-hot all over longing to bethere! Was there ever anything so splendid! But, I beg your pardon! Willyou not be seated? Polly went out with father, but will soon be back. " The servant brought the same message. Mrs. Wharton would be down as soonas the children were off to school. "Tell her not to hurry, " said the audacious young man. "It is such atreat to have company all to myself. And to-day is my first comingdownstairs. Father has been so afraid all along lest I should dosomething that would undo all the good doctor's work. Between him andAndrew they have saved my leg, and I shan't be lame. I'll come and danceat your birthday party. It is in the spring, isn't it, and that is whyyou were named Primrose?" "I don't know for certain, " and the girl smiled; "my mother was fond offlowers. " "And it's the prettiest name under the sun. " He wanted to say that itbelonged to the prettiest girl under the sun, but he did not quite dare. For he thought this blessed October morning she was the loveliest visionhe had ever beheld. "Oh, won't you take off your hat and that big cape, for Polly _will_ bein soon, and I have such a heap of things to tell you. Polly said shewould ask you to come around as soon as I was allowed downstairs, andDr. Rush said I must wait until I could walk well. Wasn't it grand tosee Andrew in his new uniform? We've all gone in rags and patches, and--well, when we're old fellows, we shall all be proud enough that wefought for the country. I want to live to be a full hundred, if theworld stands so long. When have you heard from your brother?" The young girl's face was scarlet. "Not since--since he went to NewYork. " "Wasn't it queer we should all have had a hand in the fight, and Andrewnever got scratched?" "And you saved them both! Andrew told me! Oh, I can't give you thanksenough! My brother is very dear to me if he is on the wrong side, and Ihave been angry with him. " He always remembered with a mysterious sort of gladness that she did notsay Andrew was dear to her. Of course he was, but he would rather nothave it set in words. "Yes--that we should meet just that way! He and I had quarreled, and heand Andrew were cousins, whose duty it was to disable each other, atleast, though the encounter was so sudden that at the first moment Ithink they did not know each other. I gave a push to Andrew and thatdeflected his aim, for somehow I did not want him to kill Nevitt. Andbefore he could recover, though the next shot was aimed at me, someonehad struck your brother in the shoulder, and he fell. It was all done ina moment, but there are so many near escapes. He was pretty badly hurt, but Andrew managed that he should have the best of care. And they gainednothing by their daring and we made a lot of prisoners. Before it wasover I was wounded, and that has put an end to my fun. But I am gladAndrew was in at this great victory. " Primrose's eyes were shining with a kind of radiant joy. And yet, downdeep in her heart, there was a pang for her brother. Sometimes she wasvexed that he had not cared enough to write. "But it seems--incredible!" "It is a sort of miracle of foresight. The man at the head of it all iswise and far-sighted and not easily discouraged. And Lady Washington, asthe men call her, is not afraid to follow the camp and speak a word ofcheer to the soldiers. We have been through many a hard time, some ofthe others much more than I. But, if I could have chosen, I'd ratherbeen on the march and in the fight than lying here. " Primrose could not doubt it. A faint color had warmed up the face andit looked less thin, and the eyes were full of enthusiasm. Something intheir glance made hers droop and an unexpected glow steal up in herface. "Andrew said he was your soldier, that you were so full of loyalty andduty it inspired him. And don't you remember that you talked to me aswell? I don't see why I shouldn't be your soldier. " "Why--yes. You are. " Then she blushed ever so much more deeply. "And how brave you were that day when you assisted him to escape! Oh, you can't think how delightful it was to talk of you when we were coldand hungry and so far away from home! And all the shrewdness of MadamWetherill! How she won British gold and sent it or its equivalent out toValley Forge! Next summer we ought to make a picnic out there, and climbup Mount Pleasant and go down Mount Misery with jest and laughter. " There was a whirl and a gentle stamping of some light feet on thebearskin rug in the hall. "Oh, Primrose! It is the most glorious morning the world ever saw! And'tis a delight to see you here. It is Allin's first day downstairs, andhe thinks he has been defrauded, selfish fellow! He insists I shall tellhim everywhere I go and everybody I see, and, when I get it all relatedminutely, he sighs like a wheezy bellows and thinks I have all the fun. And just now I want to dance and shout, don't you, Primrose? Such newsstirs one from finger tips to toes. " "Get up and dance, then. I'll whistle a gay Irish jig, such as the menused in Howe's time at the King of Prussia Inn, while their betters werefooting it to good British music. Think of the solemn drumbeat therewill be at Yorktown! No gay Mischianza there! What a march it will be tothe haughty prisoners!" They all laughed at the idea of dancing, and then they talked untilPrimrose said she must go home, but Polly would send a messenger to saythat she meant to keep her to dinner, and then they would take a nicewalk along Chestnut Street, and go to Market Street and see the new, homespun goods Mr. Whitesides had in his store. "For they say the weaver cunningly put in flocks of silk from old silkenrags and has made a beautiful, glistening surface that catches the lightin various colors. A man in Germantown, 'tis said. We shall be so wisepresently that we shall not hanker after England's goods. " What a merry time they had! And then Primrose must sing some songs. Allin thought he had never heard anything so beautiful as the one ofLovelace's. And he was so sorry to have them go that he looked atPrimrose with wistful eyes. "When I am quite strong I am coming around to Madam Wetherill's for halfa day. " She blushed and nodded. He was very tired and turned over in his chair, and in his half sleepiness could still see Primrose Henry. The news was true enough. And though the Earl of Cornwallis receivedback his sword, the twenty-eight battle flags were delivered to theAmericans, with all the other trophies. Congress assembled and Secretary Thompson read the cheering news. Bellswere rung, and it was such a gala day as the city had never seen. Impromptu processions thronged the streets, salutes were fired, and farinto the night rockets were sent up. The little old house in ArchStreet where Betsy Ross lived, who had made the first flag with thethirteen stars, that could wave proudly over the other twenty-eightcaptured ones, had her house illuminated by enthusiastic citizens. Hundreds of Tories accepted the offer of pardon. Clinton reached theChesapeake too late for any assistance and returned disheartened anddismayed, for it was felt that this was indeed a signal victory, and therenown of English arms at an end. The troops were not disbanded for more than a year afterward, but manyof the soldiers and officers were furloughed, and it was announced thatWashington would be in Philadelphia shortly, so every preparation wasmade to receive the great commander. Primrose had a tardy note from her brother that brought tears to hereyes and much contrition of spirit. His wound had been troublesome, but never very serious. Then a fever hadset in. For weeks he could not decide what to do. Being a paroledprisoner, he had no right to take up arms. He was beginning to be verymuch discouraged as to the outcome of the war. Whether to go back toEngland or not was the question he studied without arriving at anydecision. There had been a second heir born to his great-uncle, so there waslittle likelihood of his succeeding to the estate. Whether they were ofthe true Nevitt blood, considering the low ebb of morals and the manytemptations of court life for a gay young wife, he sometimes doubted, but he had to accept the fact. His uncle had given him a handsome incomeat first, but he could see now that it was paid at longer intervals andwith much pleading of hard times. Indeed, from these very complaints ofexorbitant taxes, he gleaned that the war was becoming more unpopular athome. And now had come this crushing defeat. What should he do? A return toEngland did not look inviting. The dearest tie on earth was inPhiladelphia. And that was his home, his father's home. Sometimes hehalf desired to go there and begin a new life. "I long for you greatly, little Primrose, " he wrote. "I seem like a boatwith no rudder, that is adrift on an ocean. Do you think good MadamWetherill, who has been so much to you, would let you ask a guest for afew days? A Henry who has dared to lift his hand against the country ofhis birth, and regrets it now in his better understanding of events?For, if England had listened to her wisest counselors, the war had neverbeen. I am ill and discouraged, and have a weak longing for a littlelove from my dear rebel sister, a rebel no longer, but a victor. Willshe be generous? And then I will decide upon what I must do, for Icannot waste any more of life. " "Oh, dear aunt, read it, for I could not without crying. Dear Phil! Whatshall I do?" and she raised her tear-wet face. "Why, ask him here, of course, " smilingly. "I am not an ogre, and, beingvictors, we can afford to be generous. It will be a new amusement forthee, and keep thee from getting dull!" "Dull?" Then she threw her arms about the elder's neck and kissed hermany times. "Child, thou wilt make me almost as silly as thyself. In my day a maidenstood with downcast eyes and made her simple courtesy for favors, andthou comest like a whirlwind. Sure, there is not a drop of Quaker bloodin thy veins, thou art so fond of kissing. Thou art Bessy Wardour allover. " "See, madam--dost thou like me better this way?" She stood before her in great timidity with clasped hands and eyes downto the ground. And she was so irresistible that Madam Wetherill caughther in her arms. "I am quite as bad as thou, " she declared. "We are a couple of sillychildren together. If thou should ever marry----" "But I shall not marry. I shall be gay and frisky all my first years;then I shall take to some solid employment, perhaps write a volume ofletters or chatty journal and say sharp things about my neighbors, weara high cap and spectacles, and keep a cat who will scratch every guest. There, is it not a delightful picture?" "Go and write thy letters, saucy girl. All the men will fear thy tongue, that is hung so it swings both ways. " "Like the bells on the old woman's fingers and toes, 'It makes musicwherever I go. ' Is not that a pretty compliment? Polly Wharton's brothergave it to me. Ah, if my brother had been like that!" "Do not say hard or naughty things to him, moppet. What is past ispast. " Primrose Henry's brother was greatly moved by some traces of tears hefound in the epistle, and he was so hungering for the comforts of alittle affection that he started at once. She was much troubled now about her cousin's return. For Friend Henryhad fallen into a strange way and the doctor said he would never be anybetter. The fall had numbed his spine and gradually affected his limbs. He gave up going out, and could hardly hobble about the two rooms. Somedays he lay in bed all the time, and scarcely spoke, sleeping andseeming dazed. Lois watched over him and waited on him with the utmostdevotion. "Is that the voice of the child Primrose?" he asked sharply one morningas she was cheerfully bidding Chloe and Rachel good-day. "Yes. Wouldst thou like to see her?" He nodded. But when Primrose came in he stared and shook his head. "That is Bessy Wardour. I want the child Primrose, " he mumbled slowly. "I am Primrose, uncle. Mamma hath been dead this long time. But I havegrown to a big girl, as children do. " He seemed to consider. "And thou dost know Andrew. Where is my son, andwhy does he stay so? I want him at home. " "He is coming soon; any day, perhaps. " "Tell him to hasten. There is something--I seem to forget, but Mr. Chewwill know. It must be cast into the fire. It is a tare among the wheat. Go quick and tell him. My son Andrew! My only and well-beloved son!" Then he shut his eyes and drowsed off. "He hath not talked so much in days. Oh, will Andrew ever come? What isit thou must do?" "He has started by this time. There are to be some officers inPhiladelphia, and General Washington is to come to consult withCongress. They have had a sad bereavement in Madam Washington's onlyson, who was ill but a short time and leaves a young family. And I willnot let Andrew lose a moment. " "Thank you, dear child, " clasping her hands. Faith was coming up from the barn with a basket of eggs. "Oh, dear Primrose!" she cried, "I know Uncle James is dying. They willnot let me see him alone, and there is a great thing on my conscience. Oh, if Andrew were only here!" "He will be here shortly. Oh, Faith, not really dying!" in alarm. "Yes, yes! Grandmother was something that way. To be sure it is littlecomfort living. But I want to tell thee--Rachel has softened strangely, and sometimes has a frightened, far-away look in her eyes and shelistens so when her uncle frets. Oh, if I were but twenty-one, and couldget away from it all! It is as if I might see a ghost. " "He wants to see Andrew. Something is to be cast into the fire. I wish Iknew. " "It was so quiet and no one was afraid when grandmother died. But thisis awesome. Oh, Primrose, I hate to have thee go. " "Faith! Faith!" called the elder sister. Primrose went her way in a strange state of mind. Was there anything shecould do? She would ask Aunt Wetherill. "Something is on his mind, surely. But whether one ought to take theresponsibility to see Mr. Chew, I cannot decide. " How long the hours appeared! Twice the next day she sent fleet-footedJoe down to see if any soldiers had come in. And Madam Wetherill calledat the Attorney General's office to find that he was in deepconsultation with the Congress. Just at the edge of the next evening there was a voice at the greathall door that sent a thrill to her very soul. She sped out. "Oh, Primrose--dear child----" But she did not fly to his arms. Some deep inward consciousnessrestrained her and the words of Rachel, that just now rang in her ears. How tall and sweet and strange withal she was. He stood for a momentelectrified. She was a child no longer. Then she found her tongue, though there was a distraught expression inher face as if she could cry. "Oh, Andrew, it is a great relief to greet thee, but there is not amoment to lose. Thy poor father is dying and longs to see thee. Andthere is sorrel Jack in the stable, fresh and fleet as the wind. MadamWetherill has gone out to a tea-drinking, but she said thou wert to takehim at once, and we were so afraid thou would not come in time. Joe"--tothe black hall boy--"see that Jack is made ready. Meanwhile, wilt thouhave a glass of wine, or ale, or even a cup of tea?" "Nothing, dear child. When did thou see them last?" His voice soundedhollow to himself. "Three days ago. " "And my mother?" "She is well. She grows sweeter and more angel-like every day. " Then they stood and looked at each other. How fine and brave he was, andhe held his head with such spirit. "Oh, " she could not resist this, "was it not glorious there atYorktown?" "It was worth half a man's life! It gave us a country. And there hath afriend of thine come up with me, a brave young fellow--one GilbertVane. " "Oh!" was all she answered. Then the horse came, giving a joyful whinny as he felt the fresh air, and Andrew Henry went out into the night as if a beautiful vision wereguiding him. Was it Primrose in all that strange, sweet glory? He had ridden fast and far many a time. Up by the river here, under thisstretch of woods, then a great level of meadows, here and there a tinylight gleaming in a house, hills, a valley, then more woods, and he drewa long breath. Someone came to meet him. He took his mother in his arms and kissed her, but neither spoke, for the rapture was beyond words. There was a candle burning on each end of the high mantelshelf. Therewas Friend Browne, bent and white-haired, who looked sourly at thesoldier trappings and gave him a nerveless hand. There was FriendPreston. On the cot lay the tall, wasted frame of James Henry, as ifalready prepared for sepulture, so straight and still and composed. Hismother took her seat at the foot of the bed. Andrew knelt down andprayed. It was in the gray of the dawning when James Henry stirred and openedhis eyes wide. They seemed at first fixed on vacancy, then they movedslowly around. "Andrew, my son, my only son, " and he stretched out his hands. "TellPrimrose--tell her to burn the ungodly thing. I am glad thou hast come. Now I shall get strong and well. I was waiting for thee. " Andrew Henry held his father's hand. It was very cool, and the pulsewas gone. That was the end of life, of what might have been love. Rachel met her cousin in the morning with a strange gleam of fear in hereyes. He was very gentle. After breakfast he had to go into town andreport, and get leave of absence, and inform some of the friends, MadamWetherill among the rest. He had seen much of men and the world in the last few years, and learnedmany things, among others that a life of repression was not religion. And he knew now it was the love of God, and not the estimate of one'sfellowmen, that did the great work of the world and smoothed the way ofthe dying. From henceforth he should live a true man's life. But hismother would be his first care always. Some days afterward Mr. Chew sent for him and gave him the will. "I did not make it, " he explained. "I refused to write out one that Iconsidered unjust, and later on he brought this to me for safe keeping. I sincerely hope it is not the same. Take it home and read it, and thencome to me. " It was made shortly after Andrew had joined the army, and the reasonswere given straightforwardly why he left his son Andrew Henry the sum ofonly one hundred dollars. In consideration of the sonlike conduct andattention to the farm, and respect shown to himself, and Lois, his wife, the two great barns and one hundred acres of land, meadow and orchard, west of the barns, to Penn Morgan, the son of his wife's sister. ToRachel Morgan, for similar care and respect, the dwelling house and onebarn and one hundred acres, and this to be chargable with Lois Henry'shome and support. Another hundred and twenty acres to Faith Morgan, andthe stock equally divided among the three. The moneys out at interest tobe his wife's share. Lois Henry went to her son. "I am sorry, " she said. "He repented of something, and I think he meantto have the will destroyed. He was very stern after thou didst leave, and sometimes hard to Penn, who had much patience. I think his mind wasnot quite right, and occasionally it drowsed away strangely. " "He was glad to see me. That was like a blessing. And we came to look atmatters in such different lights. He was home here with the few peoplewho could not see or know the events going on in the great world. I donot think Mr. William Penn ever expected that we should narrow our livesso much and take no interest in things outside of our own affairs. Andwhen one has been with General Washington and seen his broad, clearmind, and such men as General Knox, and Greene and Lee and Marion, andour own Robert Morris, the world grows a larger and grander place. Ishall be content with that last manifestation, and I have thee and thylove. Sometime later on we will have a home together, " and the soldierson kissed his mother tenderly. Penn stopped him as he was walking by the barns and looking at thecrops. "Andrew, " he began huskily, "of a truth I knew nothing about the will. Ihad no plan of stepping into thy place. I had meant, when I came of age, to take my little money and buy a plot of ground. But thy father made mewelcome, and when thou wert gone stood sorely in need of me. " "Yes, yes, thou hadst been faithful to him and it was only just to berewarded. I have no hard feelings toward thee, Penn, and I acquit theeof any unjust motive. " Penn Morgan winced a little and let his eyes drop down on the path, foran expression in the clear, frank ones bent upon him stung him a little. How much had the suggestion he had given had to do with his cousin'salmost capture and enlistment? He knew his uncle would grudge theservice done to the rebels, and he considered it his duty to stop it. Hefancied he took this way so as not to make hard feelings between Andrewand his father. He did not exactly wish it undone, but there was a senseof discomfort about it. "There were many hard times for me thou knowest nothing about, " saidPenn, with an accent of justification. "He grew very unreasonable andsharp--Aunt Lois thinks his mind was impaired longer than we knew. Iworked like a slave and held my peace. It is owing to me that the farmis in so good a condition to-day, while many about us have been sufferedto go to waste. I have set out new fruit. I have cared for everything asif it had been mine, not knowing whether I should get any reward in theend. And though Rachel hath grown rather dispirited at times and crossedmy wishes, she had much to bear also. I should have some amends besidesmere farm wages. " "I find no fault. It must please thee to know thou didst fill a son'splace to him. And a life like this is satisfactory to thee. " The tonewas calm. "I could not endure soldiering and vain and worldly trappings, " castinghis eye over his cousin's attire. "And I care not for the world'sfoolish praise. A short time ago it was Howe and the King, now it isWashington, and Heaven only knows what is to come. I have this twoyears been spoken to Clarissa Lane and shall take my own little moneyand build a house for her, and live plainly in God's sight. " "I wish thee much happiness. And never think I shall grudge theeanything. " "And I suppose thou wilt become a great military man! Thou wert hardlymeant for a Quaker. " "I shall serve my country while she needs me, " was the grave reply. As for Rachel, she had no mind to give up all for lost. Even now shecould depend upon Primrose to keep her promise. She had the old housethat was dear to Andrew, and she had his mother in her care. When thewar was really ended and the soldiers disbanded, he must settlesomewhere, and so she took new courage. If she did not marry him therewere others who would consider her a prize. But she knew she shouldnever love any man as she could love Andrew Henry. There were times when she hated herself for it. And now that he hadcome, gracious, tender, and with that air of strength and authority thatalways wins a woman, fine-looking withal, and clinging to some Quakerways and speech, her heart went out to him again in a burst offondness. CHAPTER XX. WHEN THE WORLD WENT WELL. About the country farms, with their narrow ways, opinion was divided. Andrew had shocked the Friends by wearing his uniform to his father'sburial, but he felt he was the son of his country, as well, and had herdignity to uphold. Penn Morgan was very much respected and certainly haddone his duty to his dead uncle. But at Arch Street indignation ran high, and the Whartons were also veryoutspoken. Primrose was lovelier than ever in her vehemence, and Pollydeclared it was the greatest shame she had ever known. Even Mr. Chewsaid it was an unjust will, and he thought something might be done inthe end with Primrose Henry's testimony. "But for my sake thou wilt not give it. Family quarrels are sore anddisgraceful things, and it is true Penn was a good son to him. My motheris well provided for, and I shall find something to do when peace isdeclared, for it is said when Lord North heard of the surrender, he beathis breast and paced the floor, crying out: 'Oh, God, it is all over, itis all over, and we have lost the colonies!' So that means the end ofthe war. " "And will you not stay a soldier? You are so brave and handsome, Andrew. " She meant it from her full heart, and the admiration shone in her eyes. But she was thinking that Rachel would never marry a soldier. "Nay, little one, " smiling with manly tenderness. "I have no love forsoldiering without a cause. When all is gained you will see even ourgreat commander come back to private life. I think to-day he wouldrather be at Mount Vernon with his wife and the little Custis childrenthan all the show and trappings of high military honors. And thereshould never be any love or lust of conquest except for the largerliberty. " Madam Wetherill comforted him with great kindliness. "I think thou wilt lose nothing in the end, " she said gravely. Forthough she was somewhat set against cousins marrying, and Andrew seemedtoo grave a man for butterfly Primrose, she remembered Bessy Wardour hadbeen very happy. Allin Wharton could walk out with a cane, and found his way often downto Arch Street. He was sitting there one morning, making Primrose singno end of dainty songs for him, when a chaise drove up to the door. "Now there is a caller and I will sing no more for you, " she exclaimedwith laughing grace. "Some day these things will be worn threadbare withwords falling out and leaving holes. " "And you can sing la, la, as you do sometimes when you pretend toforget, and so patch it up. " "Then my voice will get hoarse like a crow. Ah, someone asks for MissHenry. How queer! I hardly know my own name. " She ran out heedlessly. Allin was no longer pale, and gaining flesh, butthis man was ghostly, and for a moment she stared. "Oh, Phil! Phil!" she cried, and went to his arms with a great throb ofsisterly love. "Oh, Primrose! Surely you have grown beautiful by the hour. And such atall girl--why, a very woman!" "But how have you come? We have been waiting and waiting for word. Oh, sit down, for you look as if you would faint. " He took the big splint armchair in the hall, and she stood by himcaressing his hand, while tears glittered on her lashes. "I reached the town yesterday. I had not the courage to come, and wasvery tired with my journey, so I went to Mrs. Grayson's, on SecondStreet. I knew her during Howe's winter; some of our officers werethere. " "'Our. ' Oh, Phil! now that all is over I want to hear you say 'mycountry. ' For it is your birthplace. There must be no mine or thine. " "I am a poor wretch without a country, Primrose, " he said falteringly. "Nay, nay! You must have a share in your father's country. I shall notlet you go back to England. " "I have thought the best place to go would be one's grave. Everythinghas failed. Friends are dead or strayed away. The cause is lost. For Iknow now no armies can make a stand against such men as these patriots. And if I had never gone across the sea, I suppose I should be one ofthem. But it is ill coming in at the eleventh hour, when you have lostall and must beg charity. " "But we have abundant charity and love. " "You are on the winning side. " Her beautiful, tender eyes smiled on him, and the tremulous lips triednot to follow, but she was proud of it, her country's side. "Oh, forgive me!" she cried in a burst of pity. "Nay, Primrose, I am not so much of a coward but that I can stand beingbeaten and endure the stigma of a lost cause--an unjust cause, we shallhave to admit sooner or later. But I seem to have been shilly-shallying, a sort of gold-lace soldier, and the only time I was ever roused--oh, Primrose! believe that I did not know who I should attack until it wastoo late. " "And, Phil, you will take it all back now. Come hither in the parlor. There is one soldier who will shake hands heartily without malice, andmy Cousin Andrew is often dropping in--_your_ cousin, " in a sweet, unsteady voice, that was half a laugh and half a cry. "And we shall allbe friends. Allin!" He thought the name had never sounded so sweet and he would have gone upto the cannon's mouth if she had summoned him that way. She had caughtit from Polly saying it so much. But he hesitated a little, too. Besides the morning of the skirmishthere had been the other encounter of hard words. She took a hand of each and clasped them together, though she felt theresistance to the very finger ends. She smiled at one and at the other, and the sweetness of the rosy lips and dimpled chin was enough toconquer the most bitter enemies. "Now you are to be friends, honest and true. This is what women willhave to do: gather up the ends and tie them together, and make cunningchains that you cannot escape. Oh, there comes Madam Wetherill. See, dear aunt, I have reconciled Tory and Rebel!" and she laughedbewitchingly. Allin said he must go, but he did wish Philemon Nevitt had not comequite so soon. How queer it was to meet thus, but then, could any manresist Primrose Henry? Afterward they had a long talk. It seemed true now that Philemon Nevittstood very much alone in the world, and certainly whatever dreams he hadentertained of greatness were at an end. They had not been so veryambitious, to be sure, but he was young yet and could begin a new life. But first of all he was to get sound and in good spirits, and MadamWetherill quite insisted that he should spend the winter in Philadelphiaand really study the country he knew so little about. Dinner-time came, and she would have him stay. Every moment he thoughtPrimrose more bewitching. For when one decided she was all froth andgayety, the serious side would come out and a tenderness that suggestedher mother. It was not all frivolity, and he found she was wonderfullywell-read for a girl of that day. Philemon Nevitt was more than surprised when his cousin made hisappearance. There was something in the hearty clasp and full, rich voicethat went to his lonely heart. Once he recalled that he had met thequiet Quaker in his farm attire in this very house, and the bareness ofhis uncle's home, at his call, had rather displeased his fashionable andluxurious tastes. They could not help thinking of the time when they had met in what mighthave been deadly affray if Providence had not overruled. And now AndrewHenry was many steps up the ladder of success; and he was down to thevery bottom. He felt almost envious. "But Andrew does not mean to be a soldier for life, " Primrose declaredafterward. "What, not with this splendid prospect? And that martial air seems bornwith him. Why, it would be sinful to throw so much away when it is inhis very grasp. I cannot believe it!" "There is good Quaker blood in his veins as well, " said Madam Wetherillwith a smile. "And the fighting Quakers have been the noblest of allsoldiers because they went from the highest sense of patriotism, not forany glory. And you will find them going back to the peaceful walks oflife with as much zest as ever. " "Yet you are not a Quaker, though you use so much of the speech. And Imiss the pretty quaintness in Primrose. How dainty it was!" Primrose ran away and in five minutes came back in a soft, gray silkengown, narrow and quite short in the skirt, a kerchief of sheer mullmuslin crossed on her bosom, and all her hair gathered under a plaincap. Madam Wetherill was hardly through explaining that she had alwaysbeen a Church of England woman, and one thing she had admired in Mr. Penn more than all his other wisdom, was his insistence that everyoneshould be free to worship as he chose. "Oh, Primrose!" he cried in delight. "What queer gift do you possess ofmetamorphosis? For one would declare you had never known aught outsideof a gray gown. And each change brings out new loveliness. MadamWetherill, how do you keep such a sprite in order?" "She lets me do as I like, and I love to do as she likes, " was the quickreply, as she laid her pretty hand on the elder woman's shoulder, andsmiled into her eyes. "She is a spoiled child, " returned madam fondly. "But since I havespoiled her myself, I must e'en put up with it. " "But Mrs. Wharton spoils me too, and thinks the best of the house mustbe brought out for me. And even Aunt Lois has grown strangelyindulgent. " "I believe I should soon get well in this atmosphere. And of course, Primrose, " with a certain amused meaning, "you will never rest until Iam of your way of thinking and have forsworn the king. Must I become aQuaker as well?" "Nay, that is as thou pleasest, " she said with a kind of gaysententiousness. All of life was not quite over for him, Philemon Nevitt decided when hewent back to Mrs. Grayson's house. It had been quite a famous house whenthe Declaration of Independence was pending, and held Washington, andHancock, and many another rebel worthy. Then it had been a great placeagain in the Howe winter. Madam Wetherill had generously invited him tomake her house his home, but he had a delicacy about such a step. Early in December hostilities at the south ceased and the Britishevacuated Charleston. Preparations were made for a discussion of thepreliminaries of peace. John Adams, John Jay, Benjamin Franklin, Jefferson, and Laurens were, after some discussion, named commissionersand empowered to act. General and Mrs. Washington came up toPhiladelphia. There was not a little wrangling in the old State House, for it was notpossible that everyone should agree. And if the men bickered the womenhad arguments as well. Some were for having an American King anddegrees of royalty that would keep out commoners, but these were mostlyTory women. There was not a little longing for gayety and gladness after the longand weary strife, the deaths, the wounded soldiers, and all theprivations. The elder people might solace themselves with card-playing, but the younger ones wanted a different kind of diversion. The old Southwark Theater was opened under the attractive title of"Academy of Polite Science. " Here a grand ovation was given to GeneralWashington, "Eugenie, " a play of Beaumarchais, being acted, with a finepatriotic prologue. The young women were furbishing up their neglectedFrench, or studying it anew, and the French minister was paid all thehonors of the town. The affection and gratitude shown the French allieswere one of the features of the winter. Philemon Henry was proud enough of his pretty sister, and the stillfine-looking grand dame Mrs. Wetherill. Then there was piquant PollyWharton with her smiles and ready tongue, and even Andrew Henry wasrecreant enough to grace the occasion, which seemed to restore anatmosphere of amity and friendly alliance. There was more than one who recalled the gay young André and hispersonations during the liveliest winter Philadelphia had ever known. Dancing classes were started again, and the assemblies reopened. Many ofthe belles of that older period were married; not a few of them, likeMiss Becky Franks, had married English officers, and were now departingfor England since there was no more glory to be gained at war, and theseheroes were somewhat at a discount. There were many young patriots and not a few Southerners who had come upwith the army, for Philadelphia, though she had been buffeted andtraduced, had proved the focus of the country, since Congress had beenheld here most of the time; here the mighty Declaration had been bornand read, when the substance was treason, and here the flag had beenmade; here indeed the first glad announcement of the great victory hadbeen shouted out in the silent night. So the old town roused herself toa new brightness. Grave as General Washington could be when seriousnesswas requisite, he had the pleasant Virginian side to his nature, and wasnot averse to entertainments. Gilbert Vane had returned with the soldiers, and ere long he knew hisfriend was in the city; for Major Henry said the brother of Primrose wasalmost a daily visitor at Madam Wetherill's. "And still a stout Tory, I suppose, regarding me as a renegade?" Vaneventured with a half smile. "He has changed a great deal. Primrose, I think, lops off a bit ofself-conceit and belief in the divine right of kings, at everyinterview. And he is her shadow. " "Then I should have no chance of seeing her, " the young man saiddisappointedly. "Nay. I think Cousin Phil nobler than to hold a grudge when so manygrudges have been swept away. I find him companionable in many respects. He was in quite ill-health when he first came, but improves daily. " "He was like an elder brother to me always, and it was a sore pang tooffend him. But I came to see matters in a new light. And I wonder howit was his sweet little sister did not convert him? She was always socourageous and charming, a most fascinating little rebel in herchildhood. I should have adored such a sister. Indeed, if I hadpossessed one at home I should never have crossed the ocean. " Andrew repeated part of this conversation to Primrose. He had beenimpressed with the young man's patriotism. "Oh, you know, in a certain way, he was _my_ soldier, " she said with hersunniest smile. "And now I must see him. How will we plan it? For Philis a little proud and a good deal obstinate. Polly would know how tobring it about, she has such a keen wit. And Allin would like him, Iknow. Polly shall give you an invitation for him at her next dance. Andyou must come, even if you do not dance. " Andrew gave an odd, half-assenting look. It was as Rachel had said longago; in most things she wound him around her finger. But at the first opportunity she put the subject cunningly to Philemon. "What became of that old friend of yours, who changed your colors formine, and went to fight my battles?" she asked gayly, one day, when theyhad stopped reading a thin old book of poems by one George Herbert. "My friend? Oh, do you mean young Vane? I have often wondered. He wentto Virginia--I think I told you. It was a great piece of folly, whenthere was a home for him in England. " "But if his heart was with us!" she remarked prettily with her softwinsomeness. "Art thou very angry with him?" and her beautiful eyes worean appealing glance. "Primrose, when you want to subdue the enemy utterly, use 'thee' and'thou. ' No man's heart could stand against such witchery. Thou wilt be asad coquette later on. " She laughed then at his attempt. There was always a little dimple in herchin, and when she laughed one deepened in her cheek. "Surely I am spoiled with flattery. I should be vainer than a peacock. But that is not answering my question. I wonder how much thou hast ofthe Henry malice. " "Was I angry? Why, the defection seemed traitorous then. I countedloyalty only on the King's side. But I have learned that a man canchange when he is serving a bad side and still be honest. He was a finefellow, but I think he was tired of idleness and frivolity, and he fellin with some women who were of your way of believing, and their glowingtalk fascinated him. One of them I know had a brother in the southernarmy. " "Then it was not _I_ who converted him. " She gave a pretty pout, in mockdisappointment. "I think you started it. Though New York had many rebels. " "And perhaps he will come back and marry one of them. " "He may be at that now. Nay, " seriously, "more likely he is in someunknown grave. And he was very dear to me, " with a manly sigh. "Then you could forgive him?" softly. "In his grave, yes. Alive, the question would be whether, being thevictor, he would not crow over me. Oh, little Primrose, war is a verybitter thing after all. To think I came near to killing Cousin Andrew, and yet he holds no malice. What a big heart he has! I do not believein Henry malice. " "And _you_ will hold no malice?" "It is hardly likely I shall see him. " She turned around and pretended to be busy with the curtain so that hemight not see the glad light shining in her eyes. But he was thinking ofthe old days when they were lads together and talked of what they woulddo when they were lords of Vane Priory and Nevitt Grange. And when they met they simply looked into each other's eyes and claspedhands; the new disquiet being forgotten and the old affection leaping toits place. Just a moment. They were forming a little dance, andLieutenant Vane was to lead with Miss Polly Wharton, while Primrose hadAllin for a partner. "You little mischief, " and Phil gave Primrose a soft pinch afterward, "how did you dare? What if we had both been foes to the teeth?" "Ah, I knew better. Andrew said he was longing to be friends, but wouldnot dare make the first advances. And if you had refused to speak withhim at this house you would not be gentlemanly. " "I should like to kiss you before everybody. " "It is not good manners. " "You will have a rival. " "I shall not like that. Whatever you do, no one shall be loved betterthan I. " "Not even a wife, if I should get one? Oh, you jealous little Primrose!" "Let me see--if I should choose her----" And she glanced up archly. "Then you would have me here forever. She would be a maiden of thisquaint old town. " "Then I shall choose her, " triumphantly. "Primrose, come and sing, " said half a dozen voices. And though Gilbert Vane listened entranced to the singing, he also hadan ear for his friend. It was so good to be at peace with him, and theypromised to meet the next day. Madam Wetherill was glad to see the young lieutenant again. Her houseseemed to be headquarters, as before, and nothing interested her morethan to hear the story of the southern campaign from such anenthusiastic talker as Vane, for Andrew was rather reticent about hisown share in these grand doings. It was not a cold winter, and the spring opened early. Philadelphiaseemed to rise from her depression and there were signs of business oncemore, although the finances of the nation were in a most troubled state. Shops were opening, stores put on their best and bravest attire, andsuddenly there was a tremor in the very air, a flutter and song ofbirds, and a hazy, grayish-blue look about the trees that were swellingwith buds, soon to turn into crimson maple blooms, and tender birchtassels and all beautiful greenery, such as moves the very soul, andinforms it with new life. In March the cessation of hostilities was agreed upon, and plans lookingtoward peace. "Now, little rebel!" exclaimed Philemon Henry, "you must lay down yourarms. Surely you should meet us half-way?" "What arms?" archly, smiling out of mischievous eyes. "A sharp and saucy tongue. Sometimes you are hardly just to Vane, and inyour eyes he should be a patriot. " "He is. But surely I do not talk half as bad as Mrs. Ferguson and MissJeffries. One would think, listening to them, that the Americans had nosense, and could not govern the country they fought for. Why do notpeople like these go back to England?" "Shall I go?" in a voice of sad indecision. "If you talked like that I should bid you a joyous send off! What a pityMiss Jeffries had not married one of Howe's officers; then she wouldhave to go when they are all sent out of the country. And poor old Mr. Jeffries hath quite lost his head. Aunt hates to play with him any more, for he loses incessantly. " "But do not the soldiers need something out of the fund?" They both laughed at that. "No doubt we could still find some with well-worn shoes. But the neednot being urgent, she hates to impoverish the old man who hath lost somuch. For it seems he made some heavy bets upon Lord Cornwallis reducingthe southern Colonies and entering Philadelphia in triumph. And even nowhe is sure the King will never consent to the separation. " "Which shows how much the King loved the Colonies. " "A queer love, that would deprive them of any kind of freedom. No, mykind of love is broad and generous, and not thinking how much profit onecan squeeze out, " and her lovely eyes were deep with intense feeling. "When wilt thou give me a little of this measure?" "Oh, Phil, am I very naughty and cross?" and her sweet voice would havedisarmed anyone. "But I think sometimes you are only half converted. Youtalk of returning to England, and it grieves me. " "But if I stay here I must find some business. I am not very lucky atcards. I have resigned my position, and now that poor old Sir Wyndham isdead and the income shrunk sadly, I can count on no more from thatquarter. There is only the interest on what my dear father invested forme, and that may pay but poorly. They will hardly want to make a rebelofficer of me, since if peace comes they will disband many of theregiments. To beg I am ashamed. I hardly know how to work. If I wenthome and re-enlisted--England always hath some wars on hand. " "They are a naughty, quarrelsome nation, and then they wonder how wecome to have so much spunk and bravery! No, thou shalt not go back. Business here will stir up. Then men talk to Madam Wetherill about it. And I think thou hast wit enough to learn. Thou shalt get settled here, and--and marry some pretty rebel wife----" "And quarrel with her?" mirthfully. "Nay, she shall be better tempered than I. Everybody hath spoiled me, and I am a shrew. No man will ever want to marry me, and I am glad ofthat. " CHAPTER XXI. AN APRIL GIRL. "On Thursday next I shall have a birthday, " said Primrose Henry. "And Ishall be seventeen. Yet I never can catch up with Polly, who isnineteen. " "Well--some day thou wilt be nineteen. And what shall we do for thee?Wilt thou have a party?" "I am tired of parties, and it is growing warm to dance. I believe in afortnight or so the army is to leave. Andrew is going with the commanderat first, but, if he is not needed, will come back. He makes such ahandsome soldier. " "Thou art a vain little moppet, always thinking whether people look fineor not. " "But Andrew is handsome of himself. I wish Phil came up to six feet andpast. I think the Nevitts could not have been overstocked with beauty. " "How thou dost flout the poor lad! I wonder that he loves thee at all!" "But I love him, " with charming serenity. "And show it queerly. " Primrose gave her light, rippling laugh. "I think"--after a pause, twirling her sewing around by the thread--"Ithink we will all take a walk about the dear old town. Then we will comehome and have tea, and rest ourselves. " "But why not ride? I am too old and too stout to be trotting about, andPatty is hardly----" "Patty will flirt with my fine cousin. Oh, I have caught her at it. Youwould be amazed to know the secrets they have with each other, and thelow-toned talk that goes on. I have to be severe, and to be severe onone's birthday would be hard indeed. " Madam Wetherill laughed. "Betty Mason was complaining of being so mewed up all winter. And nowher baby is old enough to leave, and she might come down and see thechanges planned for the town, and the other changes since the winter shehad her gay fling. What a little girl I was! And she being a widow canwatch us, but Phil has such sharp eyes that he might be a veritabledragon. He will not let me buy a bit of candied calamus unless the boyis under ten, he is so afraid I shall be looked at. And there will bePolly's brother to watch her. But Betty will have two attendants, whichis hardly fair, and she thinks Gilbert Vane quite a hero. " "And Andrew Henry?" "Oh, she is soft-hearted about him because he has lost his fortune. AndGilbert Vane is like to lose his in the general settling up. So she canadminister the same kind of consolation to both. " "Thou hast a shrewd way of allotting matters. Poor Betty! It will benice to ask her since you both have brothers to watch over you. And youwill not stray very far? Then what delicacies will you have for supper?" "Oh, we shall be hungry as wolves. I must see what Mistress Kent cangive us. She thinks soldiers have grown hollow by much tramping andcannot be filled up. " Madam Wetherill smiled indulgently. They all promised to come. Julius went out on Wednesday and brought inBetty, who was delighted with the outing. But when Primrose opened her eyes at six in the morning there was agentle patter everywhere, and dashes on the window pane. But, oh! howsweet all the air was, and the clouds were having a carnival in the sky, chasing each other about in the vain endeavor to cover up the bits oflaughing blue. "Patty, " in a most doleful voice, "it rains!" "To be sure, child, " cheerfully. "What would you have on an April day?And if it rains before seven 'twill clear before eleven. There will beno dust for your walk. " "You are a great comforter, Patty. Are you sure it will stop by noon?" "Oh, la, yes! April days can never keep a whole mind. " "That must be the reason I am so changeable. " "I dare say. But I was born in November, and I like to change my mind. 'Twould be a queer world if people were like candles, all run in onemold. " "But there are fat candles and thin candles. " "And they are always round. Folks have corners. They're queer-like andpleasant by spells, and you can't see everything about them at a glance. We must have candles, but I have a hankering for folks as well. " Primrose laughed and ran to Betty, who was not as philosophical, and wasafraid that the day was spoiled. "The wind is west, " said Madam Wetherill. Sure enough, by nine it was a radiant day. The two girls chattered, forBetty was only three-and-twenty, and the news from Virginia had put newheart in her. "You must talk to Lieutenant Vane as much as you can. You see, he wasthere so much longer than Andrew, and knew more about everything. And heis such a splendid American! But he may have to give up Vane Priory, which Phil says was beautiful. Or, rather, it will be confiscated. General Howe sent over word when he joined our army. It is hard to becalled a traitor and a deserter when you are doing a noble deed. But hedoesn't seem very disheartened over it. " "It is very brave of him. " Primrose brought out her pretty frocks and her buckles and some of hermother's trinkets she was allowed to wear, and Betty told over variousVirginian gayeties, and the sun went on shining. So, quite early Pollyand Allin came. Allin had decided to study law, for his ambition hadbeen roused by the appointment of really learned men to discuss thepoints of coming peace. And there would always be legal troubles tosettle, property boundaries to define, wills to make, and Allin admittedhe had seen quite enough of war, though, if the country needed him, heshould go again. But Gilbert Vane was a truly enthusiastic soldier. When Andrew came he announced that the company was to be ready to startnext week. General Washington would have his quarters for some time upthe Hudson, so as to be ready for a descent on New York if Englandshould start the war afresh on any pretext. Certainly the afternoon was beautiful. People were beginning withgardens, and climbing roses were showing green stems. And the tall boxalleys were full of new sprouts, betraying a great contrast to the deepgreen that had withstood the frosts of many winters. There was a ferry over Dock Creek; indeed, there were but few bridges, but being ferried over was more to their taste. Then they walked upSociety Hill, where some fine, substantial houses were being put up. There were the city squares, and, far over, a great ragged waste, withtree stumps everywhere. "That is what you did in Howe's winter--cut down all the beautifulwoods--Governor's woods, " Primrose said resentfully. "There are tracesof you everywhere. It will take years and years for us to forget it orremedy it. " "But do you not suppose the soldiers around Valley Forge cut down thewoods as well? You would not have them freeze. And the poor men herewanted a little warmth, " said Phil. "There was plenty of waste land where you could have gone, " in herseverest tone. "I thought myself there were many acts of vandalism, " commented Vane. "But I believe it is the rule of warfare to damage your enemy all youcan. Think of the magnificent cities the old Greeks and Romans destroyedutterly. " "They were half savages, idolaters, believing in all sorts of gods. Andyou pretended to be Christians!" "You were so sweet a moment ago, Primrose, " said her brother. "Unalloyed sweetness is cloying. You need salt and spice as well. And Ialways feel afraid I shall forgive you too easily when I look at thosepoor stumps and pass the jail. " "You can remember all one's sins easily, " Phil retorted rathergloomily. "And one's virtues, too, behind one's back. Never fear her loyalty, Mr. Nevitt. " Phil had insisted everyone should drop his military cognomen. "You should have heard her solicitude when no word came from you, andwas there not some joy in her face when you appeared that could not haveput itself into words?" cried Allin Wharton eagerly, for he alwaysresented the least suspicion of a non-perfection in Primrose. "Now I will cross thee off my books, " blushing and trying to look stern. "Allin Wharton! To betray a friend in that manner!" "To recount her virtues, " and Betty Mason laughed over to the prettychild. "She has a right to be like an April day. " "And I found this pretty conceit in some reading, " interposed Vane. "Weshould have tried our pens in your behalf, Mistress Primrose, but I knewnothing of this birthday except just as we met, so I can only offersecond-hand, but then 'tis by a famous fellow: "'May never was the month of love, For May is full of flowers, -- But rather April wet by kind, For love is full of showers. '" "Am I such a crying girl?" Primrose's face was a study in its strugglenot to smile. "And here is another. " Andrew Henry half turned: "'When April nods, with lightsome smiles And Violets all a-flower; Her willful mood may turn to tears Full twice within an hour. '" "Then I am very fickle--and bad tempered, and--and----" There was deepdespair in the voice. "And Primrose, an April girl who can have whatever mood she chooses, "said Wharton. "I wish I had known one was to bring posies of thought andI would have looked up one. How I envy those people who can writeacrostics or sudden verses, and all I know seem to have gone from me. " Primrose made a mocking courtesy. "Thank you. We can all go and gatherviolets. I know a stretch of woods the British left standing, where thegrass is full of them. And a bit of stream that runs into theSchuylkill. Oh, and a clean, well-behaved mead-house where one can getdelightful cheesecake. Now that we have reached the summit, look aboutthe town. A square, ugly little town, is it not?" "It is not ugly, " Polly protested resentfully. The rivers on either side, the angle with docks jutting out, andcreeping up along the Delaware, Windmill Island and the Forts; the twolong, straight streets crossing at right angles, and even then rows ofred-brick cottages, but finer ones as well, with gardens, some seemingset in a veritable park; and Master Shippen's pretty herd of deer hadbeen brought back. There were Christ Church and St. Peter's with theirsteeples, there were more modest ones, and the Friends' meeting housethat had held many a worthy. "It is well worth seeing, " said Betty Mason. "Some of the places aboutmake me think of my own State and the broad, hospitable dwellings. " "Oh, but you should see Stenton and Clieveden! and the Chew House atGermantown is already historical. There is to be a history writ of thetown, I believe, and all it has gone through!" exclaimed Polly. Then they begin to come down in a kind of winding fashion. Women are outmaking gardens and tying up vines, some of them in the quaint, shortgown and petticoat, relegated mostly to servants. Then Friends, in capand kerchief; children in the fashion of their parents, with an oddmade-over appearance. "It will be a grand city if it stretches out according to Mr. Penn'sideas. And oh, Betty! you must see the old house in Letitia Street, withits dormer windows and odd little front door with its overhanging roof. And the house on Second Street that is more pretentious, with its slatedroof. If the talk is true about peace there are great plans for theadvancement of the town. They are going to cut down some of the hillsand drain the meadows that the British flooded, " and Primrose glancedsidewise at her brother's face with a half-teasing delight. "So, if thedreams of the big men who govern the city come true, there willpresently be no old Philadelphia. I hear them talking of it with AuntWetherill. " They wander on, now and then changing places and partners, having alittle merry badinage. Polly keeps coming to the rescue where PhilemonNevitt is concerned. There are other gay parties out rambling; some with hands full of wildflowers, laughing and chatting, occasionally bestowing a nod on theWhartons and Primrose, and staring perhaps unduly at the tall finesoldier with his martial air and uniform, hardly suspecting the Quakerheart underneath. "Now that we have come so near I bethink me of an errand for MistressJanice Kent, " exclaimed Primrose. "And you will like to see the row ofsmall, cheerful houses where some poor women come, some poor marriedfolks when life has gone hard with them. See here is Walnut Street. Letus turn in. It is an old, old place that somebody left some money tobuild. " "Old John Martin, " said Andrew. "Yes, I have been here. It is a snug, pretty place, not an alms-house. " "My old lady is not in this long, plain house, but around in FourthStreet, in her own little cottage. See how quaint they are?" A narrow passage like a green lane ran through the center. Small, one-storied cottages, with a doorway and a white-curtained window; asteep roof with a window in the end to light the garret. There was agarden with each. There were fruit trees ready to burst into bloom, sosheltered were they. There were grape arbors, where old men were smokingand old ladies knitting. One old lady had half a dozen little children in her room, teaching aschool. One was preparing dried herbs in small cardboard boxes. Therewere sweet flavors as of someone distilling; there was a scent ofmolasses candy being made, or a cake baked, even new, warm biscuit. Everybody seemed happy and well employed. "It is something like the Church Charities at home, " said Vane, "onlymuch more tidy and beautiful. " "It is where I shall come some day, " announced Primrose with a plaintiveaccent, as if she were at the end of life. "You!" Polly glanced at her with surprised eyes, hardly knowing whetherto laugh or not. "As if you would ever have need!" declared Betty Mason. "But they are not very poor, you see. They have to be worthy people andnice people, who have been unfortunate. And when I am old I shall begone of the little houses to live in. I think I shall make sweet flavorsand raise herbs. " She looked so utterly grave and in earnest that both Wharton andLieutenant Vane stared as if transfixed. "What nonsense!" exclaimed her brother. "As if there would not always besomeone----" "But I shall live to be very old, I know. Aunt Wetherill tells of one ofthe Wardour women who lived to be a hundred and two years old, ever solong ago, in England. And it is hardly probable, Phil, that you can liveto be one hundred and ten or more, and, if you did, you would mostlikely be helpless, " in an extremely assured tone. "Well, you would not be poor, " he subjoined quickly, indignantly. "How do you know? Some of the people here have been in comfortablecircumstances. And, two days ago, when Mr. Northfield was over he wastalking about some of papa's property that had nearly gone to ruin--beendestroyed, I think, and would take a good deal to repair it. And--eightyor ninety years is a long time to live. There may be another war--peopleare so quarrelsome--and everything will go then! Betty's house wasburned, and her father's fine plantation laid waste. And Betty is notvery much older than I, and all these misfortunes have happened to her. " The whole four men are resolved in their secret hearts that no sorrow orwant will ever come to her, even if she should outlive them all. They reached Mrs. Preston's cottage and Primrose delivered her message. Then they lingered about, and Betty concluded it would be no greathardship to come here when one was done with other pleasures and things, and had little to live upon. "It is a delightful spot, " said Vane, "and I never dreamed of it before. That it should have been here all through that winter----" "But you were dancing and acting plays!" "Don't call up any more of my bad, mistaken deeds! Have I not convincedyou that I repented of them, and am doing my best to make amends?" The fire in Vane's eyes awed Primrose, conquered her curiously, and atreacherous softening of the lines about her sweet mouth almost made asmile. "And now what next?" commented Polly. "Do you know how we are loitering?Has the place charmed us? I never thought it so fascinating before. " It was to charm many a one, later on, like a little oasis in the greatwalls of brick that were to grow about it, of traffic and noise anddisputations that were never to enter here, and to have a romance, whether rightly or wrongly, that was to call many a one thither at thethought of Evangeline. And so a poet puts an imperishable sign on aplace, or a historian a golden seal. "We were to go somewhere else. And see where the sun is dropping to. Italways slides so fast on that round part of the sky. " "Yes, the most beautiful little place, and to get our violets. Betty, when they are all gone we will have long days hunting up queer cornersand things. And somewhere--out at Dunk's Ferry--there is a strange sortof body who tells fortunes occasionally--when she is in _just_ thehumor. And that makes it the more exciting, because you can never quiteknow. We will take Patty; we can find all the strange corners. " "Why couldn't we all go? To have one's fortune told--not that I believein it, " and Vane laughed. "Then you have no business to have it told. And Miss Jeffries runs overthe cards and tells ever so many things, and they _are_ really true. Youwill meet her again some evening. " Gilbert Vane blushed. The fortune he wanted to hear was not one withwhich he would like a whole roomful entertained. "It is this way. " Primrose walked on ahead with Andrew Henry. "There is a suspicious-looking cloud, bigger than a man's hand. " "Oh, then let us hurry! Nonsense, Phil, why do you alarm a body? See howthe sun shines. It is going past. Now--down at the end of this lane----" Just then some great drops fell. Primrose ran like a sprite and turned atriumphant face to the others when she was under shelter. It was indeed a fairy nook with a strip of woods back of it. A littlethread of a stream ran by on one side. In summer, when the trees were infull leaf, it would be a bower of greenery. A low, story-and-a-halfhouse, with a porch running all across the front, roofed over withweather-worn shingles. The hall doors, back and front, stand wide open, and there is a long vista reaching down to the clump of woods made up ofa much-patched-up trellis with several kinds of vines growing over it tofurnish a delightful shade in summer. Some benches in the shining gloryof new green paint stand along the edge. There was a small table withthree people about it, and the stout, easy-going hostess, whopronounced them "lucky, " as there comes a three-minutes' fierce downpourof rain while the sun is still shining, then stops, and everything isbeaded with iridescent gems. The very sky seems laughing, and the roundsun fairly winks with an amused joviality. In the small front yard the grass is green and thickly sown with tulipsthat have two sheath-like leaves of bluish-green enfolding the bud. "Itwill be a sight presently, " exclaimed Polly, "but so will most of thegardens. Why, we might be Hollanders, such a hold has this tulip maniataken of us!" By craning their necks a little they can look out on the Delaware andsee the ambitious little creek rushing into it. The glint of the sunupon the changing water is magnificent. "What a beautiful spot! Why, Polly, have we ever been here before?"asked Allin. "No, I think not. There are some places very like it on the Schuylkill. But I do not remember this. " Then the hostess comes to inquire what she can serve them with. There isfresh birch beer, there is a sassafras metheglin made with honey, thereis mead, and she looks doubtfully at the two soldiers as if her simplelist might not come up to their desires. "And cheesecake?" ventured Primrose. "Oh, yes! and wafers and gingerbread, and real Dutch doughnuts. " Primrose glanced around, elated. Her birthday treat was to be a success. So they sat and refreshed themselves and jested, with Primrose in hersunniest mood, while the sun dropped lower and lower and burnished theriver. "I wonder if there are many violets in the woods. " "Oh, yes, indeed!" answered the woman. "It's rather early for manypeople to come and I am out of the way until they begin to sail up anddown the river; that's when it is warmer, though to-day has been fineenough. " "Suppose we go and gather the violets, " suggested Philemon. "Of course we expect you to go, don't we, Polly? But then we are goingalso. " "Won't it be wet?" "Not with that little sprinkle!" cried Primrose disdainfully. There were dozens of pretty spring things in the woods, but violets wereenough. Large bluish-purple ones, down to almost every gradation. ThenBetty thought of an old-time verse and Lieutenant Vane of another. "But it should be primroses, " he said. "If we were at home in Englishhaunts we should find them. I don't know why I say at home, for I doubtif it is ever my home again. " "I am a more hopeful exile than you, " commented Betty Mason. "My countrywill be restored to me, and I shall never forget that you helped. " What large, soft, dark eyes she had, and a voice with a peculiarlingering cadence; but it did not go to one's heart like that ofPrimrose. The sun was speeding downward. It was a long walk home. Andrew Henryheaded the procession with his cousin, and Vane followed with Betty, soit was Polly who had the two attendants, and Allin was rather out ofhumor. Janice Kent had a birthday supper for them, but with the treat at LarchAlley, and, perhaps, some fatigue, they were not ravenous. Primrose sangfor them and was bewilderingly sweet--Andrew thought, just as the dayhad been, full of caprices but ending in tender beauty. And then theydrank her health and wished her many happy returns, bidding her a veryfervent good-night. There had been a good deal of enthusiasm about General Washington, andmany very warm friends had sympathized deeply with Mrs. Washington inher sorrow. Plans of a new campaign had also been discussed. The citywas sorry to relinquish its noble guests. Society had taken on an aspectof dignified courtesy; contending parties had ceased to rail at eachother, and there was a greater air of punctilious refinement, that wasto settle into a grace less formal than that of the old-time Quakerbreeding, but more elegant and harmonious. A new ambition woke in theheart of the citizens to beautify, adorn, and improve. There was a stirin educational circles, and the library that had languished so long wasmaking its voice heard. Peace was about to have her victory. Andrew Henry was closeted a long while one morning with Madam Wetherill. "I shall go to Newburgh with the General, " he said, "but if there is tobe no more war I shall resign my commission. That sounds almost like amartial declaration in favor of war, but it is not so. I was not meantfor a soldier except in necessity. There are those whom the life reallyinspires, and who would be only too glad to fill my place. I could notstep out with such a clear conscience if I were a private. And since youhave been good enough, madam, to ask me about plans, I must confessthat I have not gone very far in any. There are, no doubt, farms aroundthat I could hire and make profitable, but my mother no longer has thestrength and energy to be at the head of such a place. I have thoughtsomething might open here in the city that would enable me to make ahome for her and myself; that is my ambition now. I do not feel that Iought to leave her to the care of my Cousin Rachel while she has a sonof her own. True, her home is left to her there, but she is notcompelled to stay in it. " "And Rachel may marry. " "I think she will. She is a smart and capable woman, but it is harddoing all things and managing alone; though now she and Penn have madeup over a little coldness. He will till Faith's land for the present. The greatest profit, the cherries, and one good orchard belongs toRachel, so she is well to do. However, I want my dear mother with me, and by mid-summer I may return. " "I have been thinking somewhat about thee. There will be great changesin the town. Trade already is stirring up, and commerce will begin againwhen the restrictions are removed. But it is in the very heart of thingswhere we may look for the greatest changes. There have been many yearsof doubt and hesitation, but now there is a great expanding ofenterprise. James Logan and Mr. Chew were discussing it not manymornings since. The city must almost be made over, as one may say. I owna great deal of waste property, and plantations in Maryland. There isalso considerable belonging to Primrose. " "But there is her brother, madam. The more I see of Philemon Henry thebetter I like him. He hath had a hard year, a year of greatdisappointment and mortification, and he comes out of it with morebravery than I supposed possible for one whose opinions have been sostrongly the other way. Why not give him a helping hand?" "You are very honorable, Friend Henry, and I respect you for it. Then, "laughingly, "do you think you two could ever come to an agreement and befriendly as brothers if your interests were identical?" "I could answer for myself, " he said with respectful gravity. "For many years the old house of Henry & Co. Had an excellent standing. Mr. Northfield was much the elder and it seemed as if he might go yearsthe first, but he did not. Now he wishes to be relieved of all theaffairs of our dear Primrose. And I have thought, with some assistanceand a good deal of energy on the part of two young people if they shouldagree, there might be a new house of Henry & Co. , with its reputationhalf made to begin with. I know Philemon will agree. He hath alreadyproposed to take a position under Mr. Morris, and seems only anxious nowto earn a living in some respectable way. But I wanted to consult theefirst. " "I thank thee a thousand times, dear madam. Am I losing Quakersimplicity?" and he smiled gravely. "I am afraid I have acquired a goodmany worldly ways. " "A little worldliness will not hurt thee. In sooth my plan would callfor a large share of it, but I want the old-fashioned trustiness andintegrity. When times change men and women, too, must change with them. I should like to see thee a solid and respected citizen of the town--ofthe new town that is to be. " "Thou dost honor me greatly. And I must confess to thee, since seeinglarger men and larger issues, a higher ambition has stirred within me. If it had so fallen out that I had gone back to the farm, I could nothave been content with the old plodding round. And when it was takenfrom me it seemed in some degree the work of Providence that I shouldhave been pushed out of the old nest and made to think on new lines. " "Then wilt thou carry my idea with thee and consider it well? There needbe no haste. Thy return will do. " Much moved, he pressed her hand warmly. Then he carried it to his lipswith the grace of a courtier. CHAPTER XXII. POLLY AND PHIL. The city seemed quite dull when the Commander-in-Chief and his staff haddeparted for Newburgh. The feeling of peace grew stronger every day. Thecountry mansions along the Schuylkill began to take on new life, and thetown to bestir itself. True, finances were in the worst possible shapefrom the over issue of paper money, and in many instances people wentback to simple barter. The Randolphs were very much at home on the farm. Betty's two babieswere cunning little midgets, the elder a boy, the younger a girl. Primrose fell very much in love with them. Here was something she neednot be afraid of loving with all her might. "Only I wish I had not been seventeen, " she cried pettishly. "I can'tsee how Polly gets along with so many admirers. I do not want any. Thereis something in their eyes when they look at you that sends a shiverover me. " "Has Polly so many?" asked madam, rather amused. "Why, yes. Just a few evenings ago young Mr. Norris came in and then Mr. Ridgway. I thought they quite glowered at each other. And what one saidthe other sniffed about as if it was hardly worth saying. And Mr. Ridgway thought cards stupid, and Phil grew quite cross and said wewould come home. It is very pleasant when there is no one there, wefour can agree so well. " "At card-playing?" in a rather diverted manner. "Not always, not often indeed. We sing and talk and say over verses. There are so many in that old ballad book. But lovers seem always tobreak one's heart and to love the wrong one. I shall never have a lover. I shall never marry, " and her sweet voice has a delightful severity. Madam Wetherill really laughs then. "Oh, I am in earnest. You shall see. For when I called on Anabellayesterday she flung her arms around my neck and cried out--'Oh, Primrose, never, never marry! I wish I could undo my marriage. Men areso selfish and care so little for one after they get them. And they allsay the same thing as lovers. Captain Decker was going to die if hecould not have me, and he marched off, never writing a word afterward. And so said Mr. Parker, and now he thinks of nothing but his dinner andhis pipe afterward, and his nap, and having his clothes all laid out inthe morning and brushed, and does not want to go out anywhere, nor havecompany at home. And the two hateful children brawl all the time, andtheir father scolds because I cannot keep them in order. 'Tis a wretchedlife and I hate it!' What think you of that, dear madam?" "It was not a wise marriage, but I am sorry Anabella is so unhappy. There is plenty of time yet for thee to have lovers, so do not troublethy golden head. " "Phil has grown so good to take me out everywhere. And we are all goingup to the farm some day to get Betty, and then on up the Schuylkill. There are so many beautiful places, and now that May has broughteverything out in bloom, all the roads and by-ways are like pictures. And Betty wants to see Valley Forge; so, for that matter, do I. But Philis worrying about some work Mr. Morris promised him. " "Yes. There are some other things to see to. Mr. Northfield wants toinstruct him about the estate, for he is very poorly. " "It seems a shame for me to have so much and Phil nothing, " she saidtentatively. "Perhaps there will not be so very much when things come to be settled. Do not be disturbed about Phil. A true man would scorn to take from awoman. " There were many delightful rides in the country about, many historicalplaces on both sides of the river, queer interests at Germantown, wherepeople had gone back to their old employments, and were spinning andweaving and making furniture and carving. There were no lack ofreminders of the great battle in some ruins that had never been rebuilt, and men still working cheerfully who had lost an arm or a leg. There wasthe brave old Chew house that had proved indestructible. And there was another old house, quite dilapidated now and in charge ofan old couple, who, for any trifle people chose to give, would exhibit acurious arrangement of cogs and wheels and mysterious wires that a greatmany years before a man, named Redhefer, claimed possessed the secret ofperpetual motion. It always went day and night, as the neighbors couldtestify. Men of curious or scientific leanings paid to see the wonderfulmachine. And one day the secret was found out. There was a curious crankin the loft connected by wires in the wall, and a kind of clockarrangement, that kept it going. This part of the loft being roughlyboarded up, and the loft itself kept for mere rubbish, no one suspectedit. There were School Lane, and the Schuylkill falls, really beautiful then, and the lovely Wissahickon, famous for its abundant supply of fish, andplaces one could ramble about forever. Betty Mason was a charmingcompanion. Philemon often had them all, for Allin was busy with hisstudies and some plans he nursed in secret, now that Andrew Henry andVane were both away. Penn Morgan and Clarissa Lane stood up in meeting one evening andplighted their marriage vows. Rather unwillingly Rachel offered themaccommodation in her house, but Penn had fixed up a room in the barnthat would do very well until two rooms in the new house were finished, and Clarissa was very happy, and was also very respectful to Aunt Lois. But the great interest had gone out of the old house, and she did notfeel at home any more. However, she rested serenely in Andrew's promisethat before very long he would have a home to take her to. Rachel had hoped and despaired alternately. She had a strong, stubbornwill under her plain exterior and quiet manner. And she hated not tosucceed in anything she undertook. It seemed to her one of the mostnatural and most reasonable things in the world that Andrew should marryher when his parents strongly desired it. In her estimation it was anabsolute sin for him to go against the opinion of the brethren andbecome a soldier. Yet she was willing to forgive it all and help leadhim back in the right way. It was but justice that Penn should be rewarded for his care andpatience. She had not expected so much, but Aunt Lois, left to hercharge, would surely have some influence over him, and now that peacewas likely to be declared he would return, and his old home might bedear to him. So she would not give up hope, but she did give up herfoolish jealousy of Primrose. She had the girl's solemn promise, butwhat comforted her more than all was the rumor of young Wharton beingquite devoted to the girl. What a summer it was to Primrose! They were out at the farm, but matterswere much more quiet. The young women who had been so gay andentertaining were mostly married, and Madam Wetherill was very muchengrossed with business matters. She found Philemon Henry veryclear-headed. And as he came to know more about the Colonies, and thecauses that led to the rebellion, he found there was more injustice onthe side of England, but that even there they had not all been of onemind. So he was being gradually Americanized, though he and Primrose still haddisputes. But Polly had such a fascinating fashion of sometimes turningan argument against Primrose, or picking a weak place in hers until onecould not help seeing it. And then Primrose would fly into a prettyruffle of temper with both of them, and presently suffer herself to becoaxed around. "I suppose I am like April, " she said ruefully one morning, when she andPolly had had a disagreement. They were staying at the farm, and the daybefore they had all been up to Valley Forge, and climbed up the hill anddown again. In the early morning both of the young men had gone down tothe city. "Do you think it really can influence anyone?" she inquires withcharming gravity. "Then I should suppose a person born in July, underscorching suns, would be fiery-tempered. " "Do you know of anyone born in July?" "Why, yes, " laughing in a dainty fashion. "Betty for one, and she issweet and good-humored; and there is Cousin Andrew. " "Then the sign does not hold good. " "I don't know where I could have gotten all my temper from. Mamma waslovely, Phil says, and Aunt Wetherill gives her credit for all thevirtues. " "I do not think it is real temper. It is love of tormenting--poor Phil. " "And, Polly, you always take his part. " "Yes. " Polly's face turned scarlet to the very tips of her ears. Evenher fingers showed pink against the white ruffle she was hemming. "Oh, you don't mean--Polly, I never thought of _that_!" in greatsurprise. "You may think of it now, " in a soft, quivering tone. "Though it isalmost--nothing. " Primrose threw herself down beside Polly and clasped her knees. "And he never so much as suggested it to me. He might have----" in aplaintively aggrieved tone. "Don't be angry. It was just a word, this morning. But I think we bothknew. And I loved him long ago, when he was a King's man, and youflouted him so and delighted in being untender, when he loved you so. " "And you would have--do you mean to marry him? and would you havemarried a--a----" "No, I shouldn't have married anyone who was fighting against mycountry. But you really did not do him any justice. " Now that Polly wasstarted she rushed along like a torrent in a storm. "He was brought upto think England right, and he knew nothing about the Colonies or thetemper and the courage of the people. If you were taken to Russia whenyou were very little, and everybody was charming to you, you might thinkwhat they did was right and nice, and we know they are awfullybarbarous! And I thought it real fine and manly in him to prefer thehardships of war to the pleasures in New York. And he never raised hishand but once, and wasn't it queer that he and Allin and Andrew shouldhave been in the mêlée, and now be such good friends? But when he sawthat it was Andrew, he was quite horrified. And I think it is very manlyof him just to renounce the King for good and all, while there are everso many Tories right around us sighing again for his rule, and makingall sorts of evil predictions. The broadest and finest man I know isAndrew Henry. " "And why did you not fall in love with him?" asked Primrose in greatamaze. "Because, silly child, my heart went out to the other when you tormentedhim so and gave him such little credit, and could not see the earnestside to him. I should hate a man that could be lightly won over. I likehim to look on both sides. " "Was I very cruel?" Primrose was appalled by the charges. "But truly, Polly, when he first came and the British were so lordly, thinking theyowned the whole earth, I could not bear to have him claim me and talk oftaking me to England and have me go to court and all that;" and Primroseshook her shining curly head defiantly, while her oval cheeks bloomed. "Surely, Primrose, thou didst not have a Quaker temper either, " rejoinedPolly laughingly. "I doubt if thou wouldst turn the other cheek evenfor a kiss, much less a blow. " "The man would get the blow back in short order. " The beautiful blue eyes turned almost black with indignation at thethought, and sent out rays that might have blinded an unfortunateculprit. The girls looked at each other as fiercely as two hearts brimming overwith love, and eyes in an April shower could look, and then they fell oneach other's neck and cried in honest girl-fashion for just nothing atall, as girls did a hundred or so years ago. "And you are quite sure you will never quarrel with me?" besoughtPrimrose. "It must be lovely to have a sister, though Rachel and Faithwere not happy. Poor Faith! She hath grown strangely loving, and I knownot what she would do if it were not for Aunt Lois. " "Thou art the dearest and sweetest little thing in all the world, andthough I may sometimes scold thee for thy naughtiness, I shall alwayslove thee. And now I must sew, for my mother declares I never doanything out here at the farm. And Betty is so industrious, makingclothes for the babies. " Then they were still a moment or two while the sunshine rippled allabout, for they were sitting out under a tree, and the wind made apretty dance in the tall grass, and seemed to whisper among the boughs, and push the heads of the shrubs toward each other as if they might bekissing. Overhead the birds sang with wild bursts of melody or wentdazzling through the air, cleaving the sunshine with swift wings. "Perhaps I ought not have told you so soon, " said Polly with a sigh. "Itwas just a word, the sweetest word a man can say, but then I had halfguessed it before, and I knew he was waiting to have something to offerme. Mr. Norris does not seem very ready in finding him a place, and oldMr. Northfield takes so much of his time and has to tell him what a finebusiness man your father was, and how he did this and that, and peopleentrusted him with their estates and money to buy and sell, and no oneever lost a penny by him. So I suppose we will not be really promiseduntil something is settled, and thou must keep my secret, littlePrimrose. For I know now that my father would look askance at it. Strange that people years ago could marry without thinking of money, butthey are not willing their children shall. And there are men like thegreat Mr. Franklin, who sometimes hardly knew where to turn for bread, and come up to very luxurious living. But I am young, and Phil is notvery old. " "It all seems very strange and sweet, " and Primrose threw herself downon the grass and leaned her arms on Polly's knee, while the wind tossedher pretty shining hair about. There was always so much short around theedge of her forehead, and such dainty, mischievous little curls on herwhite neck when she did it up high on her head. And whatever she didmade a picture, she was so full of grace. When Gilbert Stuart paintedher as a lovely matron with her baby beside her knee, he said: "What apity there is no picture of you in your girlhood. " He would have beenjustly proud if he could have painted her in all that grace andloveliness. "And how can one tell?" she went on dreamily when Polly made no answer. "There are so many things in different ones to like, and you cannot putthem all in one man. I love Andrew dearly. He was so good and tenderwhen I first went out to his father's farm, and I was so frightened ofUncle James, and Aunt Lois was so grave and particular. But then Andrewwill never dance--fancy the tall soldier! though the great generals do. And he is not over fond of pleasure. " She threw up her pretty head, while a stray sunbeam through the treesdanced over it in golden ripples, and her eyes laughed as well as herrosy, dimpled mouth. There was a sudden start through Polly's nerves, but the gay, light, merry voice went on: "And he will always be a Quaker, though he went to Christ Church withmadam and me. But--don't you know, you can tell with some people, Polly, that things do not quite suit. And he is too grave to frolic, and oh, Ido love dancing and frolicking and saucy speeches. A grave life wouldnever suit me. And there is Mr. Hunter with his pink-and-white skin andhis ruffles and his velvet clothes, and his clocked silk stockings andshoe buckles that he has polished with a peculiar kind of powder thatcomes over from France--he told me so, " laughing with dainty mirth andmischief. "When he comes to spend the evening I feel as if I should liketo tear his finery to pieces as the old strutting cock sometimes getstorn when the others can no longer endure his overbearing ways. Andthere is Mr. Rittenhouse, who does nothing but talk of the Junta and thelearned men of the Philadelphia Society, and the grand new hall theymean to build, and chemistry, as if one was so anxious to know what wasin one's body and one's food and the air one breathed. Why, it wouldmake life a burthen. To be sure, Betty says Mr. Franklin's stove is amost excellent thing, ever so much better than a fireplace, and that shewill take one to Virginia with her. She had better take Mr. Rittenhouseas well!" and Primrose sent a host of delighted ripples on the sunnyair. "Oh, there is Tot!" Tot was Betty Mason's three-year-old baby boy, and the next instantPrimrose had forgotten her admirers and was tumbling in the grass withhim. There were two she had not mentioned: Allin Wharton and Gilbert Vane. But Polly said to her brother shortly after--growing very wise, as youngwomen in love are apt to: "Be careful not to go too fast, Allin, or you will stumble over adecided no. Primrose has no more idea of love than a two-year-old babywho answers everybody that smiles at him. " "But they haunt Madam Wetherill's in droves, " flung out the over anxiousyoung man. "With the droves one has nothing to fear, " counsels the wise youngwoman. "It is when there are only one or two, and much sitting around incorners and behind curtains and whispering that plots are hatched. AndPrimrose is fond of having ever so many enjoy her good time andmirthfulness. And, Allin, there is a great deal for you to do beforelovemaking begins. " "I'm not so much worse off than Phil Henry. " "But Phil Henry is not dreaming of marrying, " returned Allin's sisterwith dignified composure. Meanwhile affairs dragged slowly on, but it was evident there were manythings to discuss before a treaty of peace would be signed. There werevarious apprehensions of coming internal trouble. The public treasurywas empty, officers and soldiers were clamoring for pay. There wereendless discussions as to whether a republican form of government wouldbe best and strongest. Of these Philadelphia had her full share, butthere was a strong undercurrent. Had not the famous Declaration ofIndependence been born here and the State House bell pealed out thefirst tocsin of freedom? And here Congress had met year after year. Many of the soldiers had been discharged for wounds and ill health, andon their own earnest appeal. Some officers resigned; among them AndrewHenry, much to the regret of several of the generals. "If the country needs me again I am hers to command, " he said with muchearnestness. "But I feel that I am needed at home and there are otherswho will be glad to fill my place. There are many brave privates whowould be made happy by the reward of promotion. " "He is a brave man, " said Mrs. Washington, "which is sometimes betterthan being a brave soldier. If the country had hundreds of such citizensher prosperity would be assured. I am sorry to part with many of them, but we shall all be glad of peaceful times and our own homes. " And so in the early autumn Andrew Henry came home and went back to hisQuaker costume. "Really, " declared Mr. Logan, "one might think the elder Philemon Henryhad come back to life. The nephew is more like him than the son, thoughthe son is a fine intelligent man and will make an excellent citizen. Then he is a great favorite with Madam Wetherill, who has much in herhands. " CHAPTER XXIII. PRIMROSE. With all the disquiet it had been an unusually gay summer forPhiladelphia, even after the General and Mrs. Washington had bidden itadieu. For in June there had been a great fête given by the Frenchminister in honor of the birth of the Dauphin, the heir to the throne ofFrance. M. De Luzerne's residence was brilliantly illuminated, and agreat open-air pavilion, with arches and colonnades, bowers, and hallswith nymphs and statues, even Mars leaning on his shield, and Hebeholding Jove's cup. It was seldom indeed that the old Carpenter mansionhad seen such a sight. There were elegant women and brave men, though the Mischianza crowd hadbeen widely scattered. The girls had danced, and chatted in French asfar as they knew how, and enjoyed themselves to the full, and the eldershad sat down to an almost royal banquet. Polly and Primrose had beenamong the belles. Then there had been a grand Fourth of July celebration. A civic banquet, with Morris, Dickinson, Mifflin, and many another. Bells were rung andcannons fired, the Schuylkill was gay with pleasure parties andfluttering flags and picnic dinners along its winding and pleasantbanks. And then in August they had most loyally kept the French King'sbirthday with banquets and balls. And though financial ruin was largelytalked of, a writer of the times declares "No other city was so rich, soextravagant, and so fashionable. " And yet withal there was a serious and sensible element. There hadbefore the war been many years of unexampled prosperity; and thoughthere might be a whirl, people soon came back to reasonable living. Truth to tell, Philemon Henry was becoming quite captivated with thecity of his birth and his later adoption. And as he began to understandMadam Wetherill's views for his own future as well as that of hiscousin, he was amazed at her generosity. "Nay, it is not simplegenerosity, " she declared with great vigor. "There is no reason why youtwo should not make a place for yourselves in the new city, such as yourfather held in the old. Perhaps wider, for your father would havenothing to do with government, and a man ought to take some interest inthe civic prosperity of his city as well as money-getting. Mr. Wetherill, whether wisely or not, put much money in property, and it hasbeen a dead weight mostly. But now the time has come to improve it, andwith peace there will be many changes and much work to do. I have growntoo old, and a woman cannot well attend to it. Younger blood andstrength must take it up. Then--if we make some mistakes, there is noone to suffer, though I did not expect to give even two well-trainedcolts their heads altogether. " He smiled, but there was a soft mistiness in his eyes. "I can never thank you, " he said unsteadily. "I must trust someone, you see. Mr. Northfield is too old, Mr. Morrishas his hands full; indeed, I can think of no one better. I have some ofthe Wardour willfulness, and take my own way about things. I do notoften make mistakes. This is no sudden notion of mine. " "There is one thing, madam, I must explain before we go farther. I am--Ihave"--he paused and flushed in embarrassment--"there is anunderstanding between myself and Miss Polly Wharton, not an engagement, for as yet I have had no certainty to offer. But we care very much foreach other. " Madam Wetherill gave a quick nod or two and there was a smile in herbright eyes. "Polly will make a good wife. Thou couldst hardly have chosen better. Iwould speak to Mr. Wharton and have the matter settled now. If he hadnot been of a consenting mind, thou wouldst hardly have found a welcomeentrance for so long in his home. " "Madam--I never dreamed of being so happy. " "Oh, no doubt thou wilt be much happier on thy wedding day, " and shelaughed with a bright sparkle of amusement. "I am fond of young people, though they do many foolish things. " "But my sister?" he said suddenly. "We have forgotten about her. Allthese years of thy kind care----" "Well--what of her? I loved her mother. I never had a child of my own, though a hen rarely runs after another hen's chicks. The little moppetstole into my heart, and by just raising her eyes inveigled me intofighting for her. Miss Primrose Henry has all the fortune it is good fora girl to have, and she is a gay butterfly to go dancing about for thenext few years. Indeed, I believe she has quite made up her mind to staysingle, to have many admirers, but no husband. It may not be a goodplan, but there have been some famous old maids, --Queen Elizabeth, forinstance, --while poor Marie Stuart began with husbands early and losther head. We can dismiss Miss Primrose to her pleasures. " Then they talked long and earnestly. Andrew Henry was coming home, andthe matter would be settled. And settled it was speedily. Andrew, having been consulted before, wasnot so much taken by surprise, but his gratitude was none the lessfervent. And one Sunday morning Polly walked very proudly up the aislein Christ Church, with her brother on one side, and her lover on theother, right behind her parents, and when they were seated in Mr. Wharton's pew, Polly was in the middle with her lover beside her, and hefound the places in her prayer book and made responses with her and sangjoyfully in the hymns. Coming out she took his arm, and blushed a gooddeal as people smiled at her. It was a fashion then, and everybody knewit was a sign of engagement. "The young Englishman is very good-looking, " said Miss Morris, "but Ishall set my cap for the Quaker cousin. What a pity he gives up war anddiscards soldier clothes, for there is scarcely such a fine-appearinggeneral!" The young Quaker, mature and manly for his years, took hold of businessas if it had been his birthright. Perhaps it had come to him with theresemblance to his uncle. And when Philemon Nevitt decided to take backhis father's name, Polly and Primrose rejoiced wildly. Primrose threw her arms around his neck and gave him many of the kissesshe had used to be so chary about. "Now you are my own dear brother!" she exclaimed, and the satisfactionrang through her voice like a bell. "No king can ever claim you again. " "Unless _we_ have a king. " "But we are not going to have a king. We are all born free and equal. " "Julius and Joe and the old Pepper Pot woman, and the Calamus boys?"with a mischievous smile. "The slaves are all going to be free. We cannot do everything in amoment. And the equality----" Primrose was rather nonplused. "Yes, the equality, " with a triumphant lifting of the brows. "I think the equality means this: that everyone shall have a right totry for the best places, and no one shall push him down. To try foreducation and happiness, and if he is full up to the brim and content, even if he has not as much as the other, isn't there a certainequalization?" "Primrose, I fear thou wilt be a sophist before thy hundred years areended, " said her brother with a soft pinch of her rosy cheek. The Randolphs had considered the feasibility of returning south, butMadam Wetherill begged them not to try homelessness with winter comingon. And at Cherry Farm there was one supremely happy woman, Lois Henry. "Madam Wetherill is more than good to thee, " she said to her son with athankfulness that trembled in her voice. "How one can be mistaken insouls under gay garbs. Indeed it is as the child used to say, 'God madeall beautiful things, and nothing is to be called common or unclean, orhigh and lofty and wasteful. ' I am more glad than I can say that thouhast returned to the fashion of the Friends again, but thou art a manto look well in nice attire, and truly one serveth God with the heartand not with the clothes, except that neatness should be observed. TheLord hath given Madam Wetherill a large heart, and she holds no rancor. " "She is one in a thousand, " was the fervent reply. And then Andrew described one of several cottages on Chestnut Streetthat belonged to the estate of Miss Primrose Henry, and was to rent. There was a small court in front, a grassy space at the side with acherry tree and a pear tree, and a garden at the back for vegetables. "For I must have thee in the city near by, " he said, "so I can come into dinner at noon, and spend most of my evenings with thee. Mr. Franklin's old paper, the _Gazette_, is to be brought out again, and weshall know what is going on. And we will find a meeting house near by, and take great comfort with each other after our seasons of sorrow andseparation. " "My son, my dear son! I bless the Lord for thee every day. He hath givenme the oil of joy for mourning. " Andrew had greeted Rachel with great cordiality. He was grateful thatshe had cared so kindly for his mother, though Faith had been the moretender. Penn was settled in part of his new house and very content. Indeed his love for Clarissa was something of a thorn in Rachel's side, but she paid small attention to it outwardly. When Andrew laid his planbefore her, however, her very heart sank within her. "She is to have her living here. I am sure, Andrew, as God is mywitness, that I have been like a daughter to her. She hath said soherself. My own mother is dead, let her remain in the place. Andthou--thou wilt marry sometime----" "A long while yet. I am her son and want her, and she is ready andpleased to come. It is but right and natural. As for the living, make noaccount of that. When we want a holiday it may be pleasant to come outto the farm. " That was a straw and she caught quickly at it. But in any event she sawthat she could not help nor hinder. Primrose took Polly with her to see what should be put in the cottage. "There are many new things to make work handy, and comforts. Andrew musthave a settle here in the living room and it shall be my pleasure tomake cushions for it. And oh, Polly, he has learned to smoke while hewas soldiering! Of course Aunt Lois will want some of the old things, and she has chests of bed and table linen. But we can buy some platesand cups. Aunt Lois had some pretty Delft ware that I used to dry onnice soft towels when I was a little girl. We will hunt the city over tofind Delft. " They were delightfully engrossed with shopping. The stores weredisplaying tempting aspects again and merchants were considering foreigntrade. But it was quite ridiculous, though no one saw it in just thatlight then, that one should take with them a thousand or so dollars todo a morning's buying. But when a frying pan cost sixty dollars andthree cups and saucers one hundred and fifty, and a table two hundred, money soon went. There was plenty of it, to be sure. Congress orderednew issues when it fell short. People still watched out for Quaker sales: that is, Quakers who refusedto pay certain taxes had their belongings seized and sold, and womenwere as ready for bargains then as now. Faith took counsel of the trustees who had been appointed for her, andfound that she could get away from her sister's home. So she begged AuntLois to take her, as they would need some help. Andrew opposed this atfirst, fearing it would lead to trouble, and Rachel was very angry. Buton second thought she decided it would be wiser. For by this means shewould still have some hold over them all. On condition that Faith wouldcome home every fortnight for a little visit she consented, and thoughFaith, trained long in repression, said but little, her heart beat withgreat joy. Rachel had kept a Swedish woman nearly all summer forout-of-door work, and now engaged her for the winter. By spring, certainly, she would know what lay before her. William Frost, who had once been in the habit of walking home with her, was married. A well-to-do farmer living up the Wissahickon had called anumber of times, but he had four children, and Rachel had no mind togive up her home for hard work and little thanks. She was still young, and with her good marriage portion would not go begging. But the choiceof her heart, the best love of her heart all her life, would be AndrewHenry, and she felt the child and the girl, Primrose, had always stoodin her way. If she would only marry! But Primrose was having a lovely winter. True, there were times whenAllin Wharton grew a little too tender, and she would tease him in herwillful fashion, or be very cool to him, or sometimes treat him in anindifferent and sisterly fashion, so difficult to surmount. There wereso many others, though Primrose adroitly evaded steady admirers. Whenthey grew too urgent she fled out to the farm and Betty. There was great fun, too, in planning for wedding gear. Polly's sister, Margaret, was grown up now, and Polly was to be married in the latespring, and go out to the farm all summer, as the Randolphs had fullydecided to return to Virginia in April. Mr. Randolph would go a month ortwo earlier to see about a home to shelter them. For although the treatyof peace had not been signed it was an accepted fact, and everybodysettled to it. Old Philadelphia woke up to the fact that she must make herself nearlyall over. Low places were drained, bridges built, new docks constructed, and rows of houses went up. The wildernesses about, that had grown tobrushwood, were cleared away. Hills were to be lowered, and there was afamous one in Arch Street. "Nay, I should not know the place without it, " declared Madam Wetherill. "It will answer for my time, and after that do as you like. " But she was to go out of Arch Street years before her death, though shedid not live to be one hundred and two. The taverns made themselves more decorous and respectable, the coffeehouses were really attractive, the theater ventured to offer quite avariety of plays, and the assemblies began in a very select fashion. There was also a more general desire for intelligence, and the days of"avoiding Papishers and learning to knit" as the whole duty of womenwere at an end. There were grace and ease and refinement and wit, and a peaceable sortof air since Congress had gone to Princeton. Midwinter brought out-of-door amusements, though the season seemedshort, for spring came early, and in March parties were out hunting fortrailing arbutus and hardy spring flowers, exchanging tulip bulbs anddividing rose bushes, as well as putting out trees and fine shrubberythat was to make the city a garden for many a long year. Primrose danced and was merry, and skated with Allin Wharton when Pollyand Phil could go, but she was very wary of confining herself to one. She dropped in and cheered Aunt Lois and fascinated Faith with herbright talk and her bright gowns and the great bow under her chin, foreven if it was gray it seemed the softest and most bewildering colorthat ever was worn. Then she rode out and spent two or three daysfrolicking with Betty's babies, and came home more utterly fascinatingthan before. "Oh, Primrose!" said Madam Wetherill, "I cannot think what to do withthee. Thou wilt presently be the talk of the town. " "Oh, I think I will go to Virginia with Betty and bury myself in a greatsouthern forest where no one can find me. And I will take along poundsof silk and knit some long Quaker stockings for Andrew, with beautifulclocks in them. Hast thou not remarked, dear aunt, that he betrays atendency toward worldliness?" "Thou art too naughty, Primrose. " It was fortunate for women's purses that one did not need so many gownsas at the present day, even if they did take out with them marveloussums. But thinking men were beginning to see the evil of the oldContinental money and trying to devise something better, with that ablefinancier, Robert Morris, at their head. The wedding finery was bought, and the looms at Germantown supplied websof cloth to be made up in table napery and bedding. There were old laceshanded down, and some brocade petticoats, and two trained gowns that hadcome from England long before. Primrose and Margaret Wharton werebridesmaids, and, oddly enough, Captain Vane, for he had arrived at thatdignity, came from Newburgh on a furlough and stood with Margaret, sothe foes and the friends were all together. It was a very fine wedding, and at three in the afternoon Mr. And Mrs. Philemon Nevitt Henry wereput in a coach, a great luxury then, and went off in splendid state, with a supply of old slippers thrown after them for good luck. Captain Vane had lost his estate, that was a foregone conclusion. Thenext of kin had acted and proved the estates forfeited. "And now I am a true buff-and-blue American, " he said proudly to MadamWetherill. "I shall remain a military man, for the spirit and stir ofthe life inspire me, and there seems nothing else for me to do. Phil, Ithink, was only a half-hearted soldier, and business suits him muchbetter. After all, one can see that he is at home among his kinsfolk. Perhaps there was a little of the old Quaker leaven in him that Englandcould not quite work out. He has a charming wife, and a friend such asfew men find;" bowing low and kissing the lady's hand. A party of guests went out to the farm to have a gay time with the youngcouple. It was Primrose's birthday, but it never rained a drop. And itwould have been hard to tell which was the heroine of the occasion, Primrose or Polly. And, oh, the verses that were made! some halting andsome having altogether too many feet. There were dancing and jollity andevery room was crowded. They had coaxed Betty to stay and she was verycharming; quite too young, everybody said, to be a widow with twobabies. Philemon Henry held his pretty sister to his heart and gave her eighteenkisses for her birthday. "Dear, thou hast so many gifts on all occasions, " he said, "that abrother's best love is all I can bestow upon thee now. When I am a richman it may be otherwise. Polly and thee will always be the dearest ofsisters, and I hope to be a faithful son to Madam Wetherill. " Primrose wiped some tears from her lovely eyes. "That is the best any man can be, " she made answer. It was a very gay fortnight, and Allin Wharton was so angry and sowretched that he scarce knew how to live. Captain Vane was handsome andfascinating, and a hero from having lost his estates, and there were afull hundred reasons why he should be attractive to a woman. He believedAndrew Henry was no sort of rival beside him. Of course Primrosewould--what a fool he had been to take Polly's advice and wait! But Primrose had been very wise and very careful for such a pretty, pleasure-loving girl. There had been something in Gilbert Vane's eyesthat told the story, and she understood now what it was: the sweetestand noblest story a man can tell a woman, but a woman may not always beready to hear it, and now some curious knowledge had come toPrimrose--she would never be ready to hear this. She had threaded her way skillfully through every turning, she hadjested and parried until she was amazed at her own resources. The lastmorning Madam Wetherill was suddenly called down to the office about thetransfer of some property, and she had not been gone ten minutes whenCaptain Vane was announced. He was very disappointed not to see madam--of course. Primrose was shyand looked like a bird about to fly somewhere, but so utterly bewitchingthat his whole heart went out to her. "Oh, you sweetest, dearest Primrose!" he cried, and caught her hand insuch a clasp that she could not pull it away. "I love you, love you! andyet I have no business to say it, a soldier of fortune, who has nothingnow but his sword, and his patriotism for the country of hisadoption--all his fortune yet to make. But it will not hurt you, dear, to know that a man loves you with his whole soul and hopesfor--nothing. " But his wistful eyes told another story. "Oh, why did you say it?" she cried, full of regret. "Because I could not help it. Oh, I know it is useless, and yet I wouldgive half a lifetime--nay, all of it--for a year or two of such bliss asPhil is having, to hold you in my arms, to call you my wife, my dearwife, " and his tone thrilled her with exquisite pain, but something akinto pleasure as well. "Primrose, you are the sweetest flower of theworld, but it could never be--never; tell me so, darling. Much as itpains you, say 'no. ' For if you do not I shall always dream. And I am asoldier and can meet my fate. " He dropped her hand and stood before her straight, strong, and proud;entreaty written in every line of his face. She covered hers with herhands to shut out the sight and tried vainly to find her voice. "Nay, dear, " he took the hands down tenderly and saw tears and blushes, but not the look he wanted. "That was cruel, unmanly. If it were 'yes'there would be no tears, and so I am answered. It is not your fault. Youhave a grander, nobler lover than I. But it has been sweet to love you. From almost the first I have loved you, when you were a little girl andI longed to have you for my sister. It will not hurt you, as the yearsgo on, to know you won a soldier for your country and a lifelongpatriot. And I know Andrew Henry will not grudge me one kiss. God givethee all happiness. Good-by. " He pressed his lips to her forehead and turned. "God bless thee, " she said, and he bowed reverently as he went out ofthe room. She stood quite still, never heeding the tears that dropped on the frontof her gown. Andrew Henry! Her dear, dear cousin, who was like abrother. Did he love her that way? Did she love him? And if she didthere was her solemn promise to Rachel. She ran upstairs and had a good cry. "Whatever is the matter?" asked Patty. "You are fuller of whims than anegg is of meat, for the egg has a breathing space if the chick wants it. Not an hour ago you were laughing like a mocking bird. You had betterhave a pitcher of sweet balm for your nerves. You have dissipated toomuch, but thank Heaven there are no more weddings near by. " Primrose dried her eyes and laughed again presently. It was noon whenMadam Wetherill returned. Attorney Chew had been in with some new plansthat were quite wonderful. "And Captain Vane to say good-by. What friends he and Phil are! But heis a soldier born, if ever there was one. And he looked so fine andspirited. He said he had been here. " "For a few minutes, yes. And now, dear madam, when you are rested, canwe have a better afternoon to ride out to the Pembertons'? I havepromised some books to Julia, and that new sleeve pattern, and to-morrowPolly comes in. " "Well, child--yes, after my nap. 'Tis a lovely day, and every day is sobusy. Yes, we will go. " She hath escaped that danger, Madam Wetherill thought. And in her heartshe honored the brave soldier; how brave, she was never quite to know. Was there ever a summer without diversions? There was a new interest inplants and flowers. Parties went out to John Bartram's, the quaint oldhouse with its wide doorway and the great vines that had climbed over itfor years, until they had grown thick as a man's wrist, almost hidingthe names cut in the stone long ago, of John and Elizabeth Bartram. Theold garden of flowers and the ferns were worth some study. And therewere rambles in the lanes, going after wild strawberries, and even theventuresome ones went on the sly to Dunk's Ferry and had their fortunetold by Old Alice. There were many little shrieks and giggles, andjoyous or protesting confidences afterward. And now Primrose thought, as she had years before, that she was quitetorn in two. Did she love Andrew Henry with an absorbing love, such asPolly had for her brother? Another face and another voice haunted her. She dreamed of Allin Wharton. This night they were sailing up the lovelySchuylkill and pausing under the overhanging trees to hear the birdswho were saying, "Sweet, sweet, I love you, " and then Allin would lookup at her. Then they were at the farm. Betty and the babies were gone now, and shemissed them sorely. But Allin came out with Phil, and Phil walked offwith Polly. Would they never get talked out? Then Allin would draw herout in some fragrant nook and look at her with upbraiding eyes. Or, itwas vivacious Peggy who would drag her in to tea, and then some girlwould come and she and Allin be left alone again. Then, by day and in real life, she was cross and tormenting to him. Desperately sorry afterward, for now she had no ambition to bebad-tempered. Everything had come out to her satisfaction. Phil was thedearest of brothers, and prospering, and Madam Wetherill was elated withher successful firm. The prestige of the elder Henry dropped its mantleover them. And as for Polly, there could not be a wiser, sweeter wife. Then Aunt Lois was so tranquilly happy, and Faith growing brighter, yes, prettier, and buying grays with a peachy or lavender tint instead ofthat snuffy yellow, or dismally cold stone color, and coaxing Andrew, sometimes, to go to Christ Church to hear the singing or the tenderprayers where the people could all say "Amen. " Oh, what was the matter that she was not happy and satisfied! Allin was studying hard and well, and growing more manly every day. Andat last he made up his mind there should be no more shilly-shallying. For when Primrose was tender and sweet he knew she loved him. Shewas--yes, a little bit jealous when he wandered too far in a halfangry, half desperate moment. So one evening he came upon her all alone. Miss Jeffries had beggedmadam so to come in to a little card party, for now her father was quitelame and could not get out much, and rather deaf, and altogetherdisheartened about England conquering America. Therefore it was acharity to visit him. "And lose _my_ money now, " she said with a good-natured laugh. Now Primrose could not shelter herself behind Polly nor Phil. She wassweet and startled, and a dozen things that made her lovelier than ever, with a betraying color coming and going in her charming face. And thelover took sudden heart. How many times he had planned the scene. Therewas a lover in an old novel that won an obdurate lady, and he hadrehearsed the arguments numberless times, they were so fine andconvincing. Oh, how did they begin? He reached over suddenly and took her in his arms and kissed thefragrant lips again and again. "Primrose, " just above his breath, "you know I love you. You must haveseen it ages ago, that morning you came, --do you remember, --when I hadbeen wounded, and how we talked and talked, and you sung. I couldn'tbear to have you go. You were the sweetest and dearest and most lovelything in the whole wide world. Polly had talked so much about you. Andever since that you have been a part of my very life. I've been jealous, and angry when you smiled on others, and you do it so much, Primrose;and when that handsome young Vane was here I remembered how you lovedsoldiers and was--well I could have waylaid him and done anything tohim, but that wouldn't have won you. I've waited so long. And now, Primrose, you must give me a little hope. Just say you will love mesometime. Oh, no! I can't wait, either. Primrose, my darling, thesweetness and glory of my life, love me now, now. " The words came out like a torrent and carried her along. The kisses hadgone down to her very soul. The clasp of his hands thrilled her. "Primrose, my sweetest darling----" It seemed as if she was under a spell. She tried to free herself, butshe had no strength. Other men had said silly things, but this was likea swift rush of music, and she was sure no one had ever uttered Primrosein such an exquisitely delicious tone before. "Oh, Allin!" in a half sigh. All the answer was kisses. "Allin, Allin! Oh, let me--yes, let me free. I must tell you----" "You must tell me nothing, save that you love me. I will listen tonothing else. Primrose, sweetest, dearest----" "Oh, hush, Allin, let me think----" If she did not mean to love him he would know it by some sure sign. Thehesitation, the half yielding tells its own story. And the very foolishness of love went to her heart. The vehemence, theownership in its fearlessness, the persuasive certainty. Of course shehad known it all along, she had feared now on the side of distance, nowthat he might speak too soon, then wondered if he would ever speak atall, while she was all the while putting him off, strange contradiction. "Say that you love me. Just say it once and I will live on it forweeks. " "Oh, Allin, you would grow thin!" She gave a little half-hystericallaugh. And then something stole over her, an impression vague, inexplicable, that she did not quite belong to herself. Was theresomeone who had a better right than Allin? Before she gave herselfirrevocably to this delightful young lover, she must be sure, quitesure. "What is it, Primrose?" for he had noted the change, the almost palenessthat drowned out the beautiful, radiant flush that was happiness, satisfaction. "Oh, Primrose, surely you did not, do not love Captain Vane?" There was a struggle in her soul, in her pulses, an unseen power thatgrasped her and for a moment almost rendered her breathless. "No, I did not--love him--but he----" "Oh, I know. It is hard winning what everyone wants, " he answeredmoodily. "But tell me one good reason why you cannot love me. " As if there was no good reason she was silent. "I really couldn't stand the uncertainty. I couldn't study. Oh, whatwould it all be worth--life, fame, fortune, or anything if I did nothave you!" "Do you love me as much as that. Would it make a great difference?" "It would ruin all my life. It is in your hands. Oh, my darling!" For itwas so delightful to be necessary. It was not foolish to the ears of eighteen when the heart of eighteenhad sometimes longed for the words. Good, sound sense is much amiss inlovemaking. "And you do love me--a little?" If he could make her admit that he would coax a great deal more. "I--I can't tell in a moment. " "But you know you do? Will you deny utterly that you do?" She could evade with pretty turnings and windings, but this, so simple, so to the point. "Oh, wait, " she cried. "I must think. Allin it is a lifelong thing. Iwant to be sure----" "And then you will smile on someone else, and walk with someone else anddance and all that, and I shall be utterly miserable and never sureuntil you do promise. " She put her hand over his, her soft dimpled hand that thrilled andcomforted him, and said in a beseeching tone, as if it was his to grantor not: "Give me a month, Allin. I will not smile on anyone, since you think itso dangerous, " with a touch of her old witchery. "A month! As if you could not tell in a moment whether you loved orhated!" "But I don't hate. I like you ever so much. I want to think it over. Onemust consider----" "A week then. And after that we can be engaged for ever so long. Itshall all be as you like then. " It proved very difficult to settle the point. He was so urgent, she sohesitating. The big old English clock in the hall struck ten, andgentlemen expected to keep good hours. "Do not come in a whole week. No, do not kiss me again, " and she heldher dainty head up haughtily. "It was all very wrong. I should not haveallowed such a thing until I was quite sure. Allin, perhaps I am acoquette. " "You may be anything if you are only mine. " "And then of course I should be steady and devoted, and--like Polly. " That was a maddening picture to hold out. But she would be a hundredtimes sweeter than Polly, than anyone's sister could possibly be, hethought as he went his way. * * * * * Was there a ghost in the room? Primrose shivered as she looked at herbed with the white curtains and her dressing table that all the girlswere trimming up now with ruffling and bows. She was so glad to hear thechaise stop and to have the warm, ample presence in the room, to hearthe cheerful voice. "Poor old Mr. Jeffries fails fast, " said madam. "It would be a sin towin his money now. And I grew so dull and sleepy that I wished myselfhome twenty times. Suppose one had an old husband like that? And yearsago, about fifteen, I think, Mr. Ralph Jeffries asked for my hand. " She laughed softly and began to take out her pins and stick themcarefully in the cushion. Pins were very precious then. There were two rainy days, an autumnal storm. Then Sunday. Allin Whartonlooked at Primrose across the church and spoke coming out. There werelaces to mend and gowns to consider and poor to visit. And all the timePrimrose Henry was thinking if--if a man who was nobleness and goodnessand tenderness itself, loved her, and would never love anyone else, whatought she to do? Thursday noon Phil came in to dinner. Polly was not very well and he wasgoing out at three. Wouldn't Primrose come with him? Primrose colored and looked oddly embarrassed, and said, in a confusedsort of way, there was something she must do this afternoon, butto-morrow she would come out and spend two or three days with Polly. Shesent her best and dearest love. Yes, she must know once for all. If duty was demanded of her--if sheloved Andrew less, or more, when it came to that. What was this romanceand mystery, and incomprehensible thrill! She _did_ experience it forAllin, and alone by herself her face flushed and every pulse trembled. His foolish words were so sweet. His kisses--ah, _had_ she any right tooffer the cup of joy and delight to another when someone had drained thefirst sweetness? But if Andrew loved her with the best and holiest love. Could she followin her mother's steps? But her mother had singled Philemon Henry out ofa world of lovers. CHAPTER XXIV. THE OLD AND THE NEW. Primrose Henry put on her camlet cloak and took several skeins of yarnto one of the old ladies in the almshouses, to knit some stockings forsome other poor. Afterward she sauntered round with a guilty feeling. She often ran in to see Phil and Andrew, and the one clerk always staredat the radiant vision. She hesitated on the broad sill, then she openedthe door. There was a sort of counting room first, and that was vacantnow. Andrew was in the apartment beyond. There was her promise to Rachel. Oh, what must she do! "Philemon has gone, " and Andrew glanced up with tender gravity as heespied Primrose. "Yes. I saw him. How is Aunt Lois, and Faith?" "Very well. " There was a different smile, now, a sense of amusement, anda peculiar light in the eyes like relief. "What is it?" Her heart-beat almost strangled her. "Rachel was in this morning. And you cannot guess--she is to be marriedpresently. " "Married! And she cared so much for you, " cried Primrose inconsternation. Andrew colored and moved his head with a slow negative. "No, it could not have been. Andrew--I wonder what kind of a wife youwould like?" turning her eyes away. He could have reached out his hand and answered her with a clasp. Butthere was another who loved her very much, who was young and gay andfull of ardent hopes. That would be better for the child. "I shall not marry for years to come. " His voice was very tranquil. "There is my mother, and now we are so much to each other. " "And _she_ ought to be a Friend. You would like a Friend best, Andrew?And no flighty young thing. " Was _she_ thinking of anything? Oh, she was too young and sweet. Itwould be putting a butterfly in a cage. "That would be better, certainly. When two people elect to spend theirlives together, it is best that they should have similar tastes anddesires. " "But a sweet and pretty one, Andrew. One like Miss Whiting, who isintelligent and noble and reads a great many things and has a lovelygarden of flowers. I want you to be very, very happy, Andrew. " "Thank you, little one. Let me wish the same for you. A gallant younglover with ambition, who can take his place in society and who willenjoy with you the youthful pleasures that are so much to you, and thengrow older with you and come to ripe middle life and serene old age. Ithink I could put my finger on someone----" Primrose's sweet face was scarlet, and her eyes suddenly fluttered downwith tremulous lids. "Thou hast been a dear little sister, " going back to the Quaker speech. "Thy happiness will be much to me; thy pain, if any happened to thee, would be my pain. Thy prosperity will always be my prayer, for I thinkthou wert born for sunniness and clear sailing and joy, with someonebright and young like thyself. " "A little sister, " she repeated softly. If it was that and only that, her conscience would be clear. "Yes. Didst thou ever doubt it?" He raised his serene brown eyes and smiled. He was not one to carry allhis soul in his eyes. "Nay, and I never shall. " She pressed her lips to his forehead, whichwas as fair as any girl's. How long it had been since he kissed her! Hemight trust himself again on her wedding day. "And now tell me about Rachel. We have queer talk of loves and such. " "He is a young man, a neighbor, the eldest of several sons. And Rachelhath a nice dower. I hope all will go well. " She was infinitely sorry for Rachel at that moment. "You will come soon and see us. I send love to Aunt Lois, " and Primroseturned. "Fare thee well. Blessings attend thee, little one. " He sat there a long while, thinking how her mother had given up manyworldly things for the man she loved. Primrose would do it, too, he saidstoutly to himself, if she had loved. It was best this way. The sunshinedid not rise up from the brown earth, but shone down out of the radiantblue sky. Primrose Henry went home with a light heart. And that evening AllinWharton had his answer. Madam Wetherill shook her head, but said smilingly, "If you take theyoung woman you must take the old one, too. I will never give upPrimrose. " The girl's soft arms were around her neck and the sweet young voice, with a rapture of emotion, cried, "Oh, madam, am I indeed so dear toyou?" * * * * * The world goes on and the stories of life are repeated, but to each onecomes that supreme taste of personal joy and rapture that is alone foritself; that is new, no matter how many times it may have been livedover. There was a long, delightful engagement of the young people, who waitedfor Allin to take his degree, and his father felt justly proud of hisstanding. There was all the reckless happiness of two young people inthat wonderful joyousness of youth when one apes sorrows for the sake ofbeing comforted, indulges in dainty disagreements so that they canrepent with fascinating sweetness, and are inconsequent, unreasonable, entrancing, and delightful, and gayety of any kind seems good, so thatit goes hand and hand with love. Primrose danced and laughed through herApril years, and then came May with bloom and more steadiness, and thenpeerless, magnificent June. "I am but a sad trifler, after all, " she would say to Madam Wetherill. "Shall I ever be like my dear mother or have any of the sober Henryblood in me?" "Nay, " was the answer. "We never find fault with the rose because itdoes not bear an ear of corn or a stalk of grain. And yet so great athing as an oak tree is content to bear a small acorn. " And while they were being married and rejoicing in Phil's sturdy littleboy and dainty, golden-haired baby girl called Primrose, oldPhiladelphia was making rapid strides. Indeed, in Washington's language, the United Colonies had now "the opportunity to become a respectablenation, " and it came back to the city where it had first uttered itslusty young cry and protest. In May of 1787, in the old State House, assembled the delegates who were to frame a Constitution that wouldstand the wear and tear of time. Their four months' work has come downto us written in letters of imperishable glory, that were not to be toolarge for the Thirteen Colonies, and large enough for any multiple thenation might come to use in the course of its existence. For the tardy treaty of peace had been signed, and though there weremuch discussion and various opinions, such as children of one familyoften have, it was all settled. And the next Fourth of July had a grandprocession, for the times, and a ship of state was dragged proudlythrough the streets on a float, with some pretty boys for midshipmen;the great judges in their official robes, soldiers, and civilians, and, side by side, walked Andrew Henry and Philemon Henry, brothers indeed inall the wide and varied interests that go to make up brotherhood and nota little human love. The bells of Christ Church, that had once beentaken down and hidden from vandal hands, were rehung, and rung atintervals all day long, while flags floated and bonfires blazed atnight, and a grand supper was eaten by the dignitaries at Bush Hill. While other and larger matters were being discussed, a Presidentnominated, elected, and inaugurated, Philadelphia, like a prudenthouseholder, was attending to her own affairs. When Washington passedthrough the city on his way to New York to receive the grandestcompliment of the nation, she again paid him all honor in his reception. The beautiful city with its greenery and quiet, of which William Pennhad dreamed, and in many of whose footsteps the renowned Franklin hadfollowed, had gone through curious changes, and was putting on newaspects with every year. But "Fairemount, " with its homes that were tobe handed down in story a hundred years later; Stenton, with its grandaspects; Lansdowne, with its woods and waters; the Logan House, theShippens', and old Mount Pleasant, and so on stretching up the banks ofthe Schuylkill were to be left beautiful and tranquil and free from thethought of business invasion. For Old Philadelphia is like a dream, andthere will always linger about it the youthful tenderness of WilliamPenn's plan and his life story. And then, to the chagrin of New York, came the transference of theCapital to Philadelphia. She had perked up and brightened up, stretchedout her wharves, filled up her low places, cleared her streets ofrubbish, and built rows of houses, had her library and her university, and it seemed as if she had been getting ready for this accession withinher borders, the "Republican Court, " as it was to be called. A plain enough house, on High Street, it was, with a few fine old treesabout, where many famous decisions were shaped by wisdom that seemswonderful to us now. When Congress was in session there were manygayeties, dinners, private balls, suppers, and dances for the youngpeople, and then, to its ruler, the retirement of Mount Vernon. With it all a sort of serene steadiness and refinement that neverallowed pleasures to degenerate into a maddening whirl. A thrift andprudence, too, that had become a solid, underlying strand in thecharacter of the city. The bell still rang out on market mornings and mistresses were not abovevisiting the long, clean spaces, though there was much fault-findingabout the dearness of things, and Mrs. Adams complained of theloneliness of Bush Hill, though she was afterward to be comforted bybeing the first lady of the land at Washington, the final Capital. Primrose Wharton was a pretty young wife and the mother of agolden-haired little girl when she next saw "Lady Washington, " as shewas often called. She had settled into a gracious, but still piquant, matron, and she and Allin enjoyed the theater and still dearly loved adance. Madam Wetherill was yet a handsome and stately dame, and "foolishover the little one, " she said. There were many memories of the dismal winter of Valley Forge renewedwhen Mrs. Washington met some of the brave soldiers. And among them allthere was no finer nor more attractive figure than that of Andrew Henry, now arrived at its full manliness. The Quaker costume became him as noother would, though the Continental attire was distinctive and wellcalculated to show off a man. Fair and fresh and strong, yet withwell-bred gentleness and a cultivated mind, he was often singled out atthe receptions, and more than one admiring girl would have gladlyenacted Bessy Wardour's romance. Was there any story in the eyes that gave a glimpse of the great heartback of them? tender, sweet, brave eyes? Sometimes Primrose Whartonthought so, and all her pulses stood still in awesome silence. She wasvery happy. She and Allin had had an April fling and had settled intoMay bloom, but--could anything have been different--better? Not for her, but for him. A little sister! Is she that? He was very happy, now, in a larger house, with a study and bookshelves, his mother a tender and tranquil woman, Faith a contentedhousekeeper with a servant, and hardly knowing which to adore the most, Polly Henry's merry madcap household, or Primrose Wharton's sunny-haireddaughter. The only thing Philemon Henry would undo are those years that he washardly answerable for. "Of course it was not your fault, " Polly declares in her impetuous, fond, and justifying way. "I think it really braver, for it requiresmore courage to own that a man has been wrong, than to go along in astraight path already made for him. And I fell in love with you as aredcoat, I really did, and fought with myself in the nights when I wasalone. For, of course, I couldn't have told Prim; she would have crossedme quite out of her books. And I wouldn't have dared hint such a thingto anybody. Now, truly, was I not a silly girl?" A fond kiss is her answer. If the war made enemies it also made brothers, informed with largerwisdom. A hundred and more years ago! Yet there are storied places that willnever die out and the old bell of freedom has clanged many a peal, andthe State House had many a Pilgrim. Truly there are numberless worthiesin the great beyond, who have left behind imperishable memories even ina city that has grown anew more than once, and added beauty to beauty. THE END. * * * * * The Girl Chum's Series ALL AMERICAN AUTHORS. ALL COPYRIGHT STORIES. A carefully selected series of books for girls, written by popularauthors. These are charming stories for young girls, well told and fullof interest. Their simplicity, tenderness, healthy, interesting motives, vigorous action, and character painting will please all girl readers. HANDSOME CLOTH BINDING. PRICE, 60 CENTS. BENHURST, CLUB, THE. By Howe Benning. BERTHA'S SUMMER BOARDERS. By Linnie S. Harris. BILLOW PRAIRIE. A Story of Life in the Great West. By Joy Allison. 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ODD ONE, THE. A Story For Girls. By Fannie E. Newberry. SARA, A PRINCESS. A Story For Girls. By Fannie E. Newberry. * * * * * For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by thepublishers. A. L. BURT COMPANY, 114-120 East 23d Street, New York. The Blue Grass Seminary Girls Series By CAROLYN JUDSON BURNETT Handsome Cloth Binding Price, 40c. Per Volume _Splendid Stories of the Adventures of a Group of Charming Girls_ THE BLUE GRASS SEMINARY GIRLS' VACATION ADVENTURES; or, Shirley Willingto the Rescue. THE BLUE GRASS SEMINARY GIRLS' CHRISTMAS HOLIDAYS; or, A Four Weeks'Tour with the Glee Club. THE BLUE GRASS SEMINARY GIRLS IN THE MOUNTAINS; or, Shirley Willing on aMission of Peace. THE BLUE GRASS SEMINARY GIRLS ON THE WATER; or, Exciting Adventures on aSummer's Cruise Through the Panama Canal. The Mildred Series By MARTHA FINLEY Handsome Cloth Binding Price, 40c. Per Volume _A Companion Series to the Famous "Elsie" Books by the Same Author_ MILDRED KEITH MILDRED'S MARRIED LIFE MILDRED AT ROSELANDS MILDRED AT HOME MILDRED AND ELSIE MILDRED'S BOYS AND GIRLS MILDRED'S NEW DAUGHTER * * * * * For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by thepublishers A. L. BURT COMPANY, 114-120 East 23d Street. New York. The Camp Fire Girls Series By HILDEGARD G. FREY. The only series of stories for Camp Fire Girlsendorsed by the officials of the Camp Fire Girls Organization. PRICE, 40CENTS PER VOLUME THE CAMP FIRE GIRLS IN THE MAINE WOODS; or, The Winnebagos go Camping. This lively Camp Fire group and their Guardian go back to Nature in a camp in the wilds of Maine and pile up more adventures in one summer than they have had in all their previous vacations put together. Before the summer is over they have transformed Gladys, the frivolous boarding school girl, into a genuine Winnebago. THE CAMP FIRE GIRLS AT SCHOOL; or, The Wohelo Weavers. It is the custom of the Winnebagos to weave the events of their lives into symbolic bead bands, instead of keeping a diary. All commendatory doings are worked out in bright colors, but every time the Law of of the Camp Fire is broken it must be recorded is black. How these seven live wire girls strive to infuse into their school life the spirit of Work, Health and Love and yet manage to get into more than their share of mischief, is told in this story. THE CAMP FIRE GIRLS AT ONOWAY HOUSE; or, The Magic Garden. Migwan is determined to go to college, and not being strong enough to work indoors earns the money by raising fruits and vegetables. The Winnebagos all turn a hand to help the cause along and the "goings-on" at Onoway House that summer make the foundations shake with laughter. THE CAMP FIRE GIRLS GO MOTORING; or, Along the Road That Leads the Way. The Winnebagos take a thousand mile auto trip. The "pinching" of Nyoda, the fire in the country inn, the runaway girl and the dead-earnest hare and hound chase combine to make these three weeks the most exciting the Winnebagos have ever experienced. * * * * * For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by thepublishers A. L. BURT COMPANY, 114-120 East 23d Street. New York. The "Little Girl" Series By AMANDA M. DOUGLAS In Handsome Cloth Binding Price, per Volume 60 Cents * * * * * A Little Girl in Old New York A Little Girl of Long Ago A sequel to "A Little Girl in Old New York" A Little Girl in Old Boston A Little Girl in Old Philadelphia A Little Girl in Old Washington A Little Girl in Old New Orleans A Little Girl in Old Detroit A Little Girl in Old St. Louis A Little Girl in Old Chicago A Little Girl in Old San Francisco A Little Girl in Old Quebec A Little Girl in Old Baltimore A Little Girl in Old Salem A Little Girl in Old Pittsburg * * * * * For Sale by all Booksellers or will be sent postpaid on receipt of price A. L. BURT COMPANY, PUBLISHERS New York