As the sun rose on the following morning, Brereton came cantering up to headquarters. “Is his Excellency gone?” he demanded of the sentry, and received reply that Washington had ridden away toward the south ten minutes before. Leaving his horse with the man, the aide ran into the house and returned in a moment with a great hunk of corn bread and two sausages in his hand. Springing into the saddle, he set off at a rapid trot, munching voraciously as he rode.

“Steady, dear lass,” he remarked to the mare. “If you make me lose any of this cake, I’ll never forgive you, Janice.”

Fifteen minutes served to bring the officer to a group of horsemen busy with field-glasses. Riding into their midst, he saluted, and said: “The Maryland regiments are in position, your Excellency.” Then falling a little back, he looked out over the plain stretched before them. Barely had he taken in the two Continental regiments lying “at ease” half-way down the heights on which he was, and the line of their pickets on the level ground, when three companies of red-coated light infantry debouched from the woods that covered the corresponding heights to the southward. As the skirmishers fell back on their supports, the British winded their bugles triumphantly, sounding, not a military order, but the fox-hunting “stole away,”—a blare intended to show their utter contempt for the Americans.

Washington’s cheeks flushed as the derisive notes came floating up the hills, and he pressed his lips together in an attempt to hide the mortification the insult cost him. “They do not intend we shall forget yesterday,” he said.

“We’ll pay them dear for the insult yet,” cried Brereton, hotly.

“’T is a point gained that they think us beneath contempt,” muttered Grayson; “for that is half-way to beating them.”

“Colonel Reed, order three battalions of Weedon’s and Knowlton’s rangers to move along under cover of the woods, and endeavour to get in the rear of their main party,” directed the commander-in-chief after a moment’s discussion with Generals Greene and Putnam. “As you know the ground, guide them yourself.”

“Plague take his luck!” growled Brereton.

“Ha, ha!” laughed Tilghman, jeeringly. “Some of us have hands to kiss and some regiments to fight. Harkee, macaroni. The general thinks ’t would be a pity to spot those modish buskins and gloves. So much for thy dandyism.”

“Colonel Brereton,” said the general, “order the two Maryland regiments to move up in support of Knowlton.”

Brereton saluted, and, as he wheeled, touched his thumb to his nose at Tilghman. “You are dished,” he whispered. “The general dresses too well himself to misjudge a man because he tries to keep neat and à la mode.”

A quarter of an hour later, as battalions of Griffiths’ and Richards’ regiments advanced under guidance of Brereton, the sharpness of the volleys in their front showed that the fighting was begun; and in response to his order, they broke into double-quick time. Once out of the timber, it was to find the Connecticut rangers scattered in small groups wherever cover was to be had, but pouring in a hot fire at the enemy, who had been reinforced materially.

“Damn them!” cried Brereton. “Will they never fight except under cover?” Louder he shouted: “Forward! Charge them, boys!” The order given, he rode toward the rangers. “Where’s your colonel?” he shouted.

“Dead,” cried one, “and there ’s no one to tell us what to do.”

“Do?” roared the aide. “Get out from behind that cover, and be damned to you. Show that Connecticut does n’t always skulk. Come on!”

A cheer broke out, and, without even stopping to form, the men went forward, driving the enemy into the woods for shelter, and then forcing them through it. The fire of the British slackened as they fell back, and when new Continental troops appeared on their right flank as well, the retreat became almost a rout.

“We’ll drive them the length of the island,” yelled Brereton, frantic with excitement, as the men went clambering up the rocks after the flying enemy.

“Colonel Brereton, his Excellency directs you to call in the regiments to their former position,” shouted Grayson, cantering up.

Brereton swore forcibly before he galloped among the men, and even after they, in obedience to his orders, had fallen back slowly and taken up their original position, he growled to the aide as they began the ascent, “I’m sick of this over-caution, Grayson! What in—”

“The general was right,” asserted Grayson. “Look there.” He pointed over the treetops that they had now risen above to where columns of Royal Highlanders and Hessian Yagers were hastening forward at double-quick. “You would have had a sharp skimper-scamper hadst been allowed to go another half-mile.”

“’T is too bad, though,” sighed the young officer, “that when the men will fight they have to be checked.”

“Be thankful you did your double-quick in the cool of the morning, and are done with it. Lord! it makes me sweat just to see the way they are hurrying those poor Yagers. ’T is evident we’ve given them a real scare.”

Upon reaching the top of the height Brereton rode forward to where Washington still stood. “I tried to have the’stole away’ sounded, your Excellency,” he said exultingly, “but those who knew it were so out of breath chasing them that there was not a man to wind it.”

Washington’s eyes lighted up as he smiled at the enthusiasm of the young fellow. “At least you may be sure that they had less wind than you, for they ran farther. They’ve had the best reply to their insult we could give them.”

“Thet there fox they wuz gwine tu hunt did a bit of huntin’ hisself,” chuckled Putnam.

“They are still falling back on their supports,” remarked Greene. “Evidently there is to be no more fighting to-day.”

“They’ve had their bellyful, I guess,” surmised Putnam.

“Then they ’re better off than I am,” groaned Brereton. “I could eat an ox.”

When the fact became obvious that the British had no intention of renewing their intended attack, a general move was made toward quarters, and as they rode Brereton pushed up beside Washington and talked with him for a moment.

The commander ended the interview by nodding his head. “Colonel Tilghman,” he ordered, as Brereton dropped behind, “ride on to announce our coming; also present my compliments to Mr. Meredith and bespeak his company and that of his ladies to dinner.”

Mrs. Meredith and Janice, not having gone to bed till after one the previous night, slept until they were wakened by the firing; and when they had dressed and descended it was to find headquarters practically deserted, save for the squire and a corporal ’s guard. At the suggestion of the servant who gave them breakfast, they climbed to the cupola of the house, but all they could see of the skirmish were the little clouds of smoke that rose above the trees and the distant advance of the British reinforcements. Presently even these ceased or passed from view, and then succeeded what Janice thought a very “mopish” two hours, terminated at last by the arrival of the aide with his invitation, which sent her to her room for a little extra prinking.

“If I had only worn my lutestring,” she sighed. Her toilet finished,—and the process had been lengthened by the trembling of her hands,—Janice descended falteringly to go through the hall to the veranda. In the doorway she paused, really taken aback by the number of men grouped about on the grass; and she stood there, with fifty eyes turned upon her, the picture of embarrassment, hesitating whether to run away and hide.

“Come hither, child,” called her mother; and Janice, with a burning face and down-turned eyes, sped to her side. “This is my daughter Janice, your Excellency,” she told the tall man with whom she had been speaking.

“Indeed, madam,” said Washington, bowing politely over the girl ’s hand, and then looking her in the face with pleasure. “My staff has had quite danger enough this morning without my subjecting them to this new menace. However, being lads of spirit, they will only blame me if I seek to spare them. Look at the eagerness of the blades for the engagement,” he added with a laugh, as he turned to where the youngsters were idling about within call.

“Oh, your Excellency!” gasped Janice, “I—I—please may n’t I talk to you?”

“Janice!” reproved her mother.

“Oh! I did n’t mean that, of course,” faltered the girl. “’T was monstrous bold, and I only wanted—”

“Nay, my child,” corrected the general. “Let an old man think it was intended. Mrs. Meredith, if you’ll forgive the pas, I’ll glad General Greene with the privilege of your hand to the table, while the young lady honours me with hers. Never fear for me, Miss Janice,” he added, smiling; “the young rascals will be in a killing mood, but they dare not challenge their commander. There, I’ll spare your blushes by joking you no more. I hope you were not greatly discomforted in your accommodation?” he asked, as they took their seats at the long table under the tent on the lawn.

“No, indeed, your Excellency. One of thy staff—I know not his name, but the one who questioned dadda—was vastly polite, and gave his room to us.”

“That was Colonel Brereton,—the beau of my family. Look at him there! Wouldst think the coxcomb was in the charge this morning?”

Janice, for the first time, found courage to raise her eyes and glance along what to her seemed a sea of men’s faces, till they settled on the person Washington indicated. Then she gave so loud an exclamation of surprise that every one looked at her. Conscious of this, she was once more seized with stage fright, and longed to slip from her chair and hide herself under the table.

“What startled thee, my child?” asked the general.

“Oh—he—nothing—” she gasped. “Who—what didst thou say was his name?”

“John Brereton.”

“Oh!” was all Janice replied, as she drew a long breath.

“’T will ne’er do to let him know you’ve honoured him by particular notice,” remarked the commander; “for both at Boston and New York the ladies have pulled caps for him to such an extent that ’t is like he’ll grow so fat with vanity that he’ll soon be unable to sit his horse.”

“Is—is he a Virginian, your Excellency?”

“No. ’T is thought he’s English.”

Janice longed to ask more questions, but did not dare, and as the bottle passed, the conversation became general, permitting her to become a listener. When the moment came for the ladies to withdraw, she followed her mother.

“Oh, mommy!” she said the instant she could, “didst recognise Charles?”

“Charles! What Charles?”

“Charles Fownes—our bond-servant—Colonel Brereton.”

“Nonsense, child! What maggot idea hast thee got now?”

“’T is he truly—and I never thought he could be handsome. But his being clean-shaven and wearing a wig—”

“No more of thy silly clack!” ordered her mother. “A runaway bond-servant on his Excellency’s staff, quotha! Though he does head the rebels, General Washington is a man of breeding and would never allow that.”

Before the men rose from the table the ladies were joined by Washington and Mr. Meredith.

“I have already expressed my regrets to your husband, Mrs. Meredith,” said the general, “that a suspicion against him should have put you all to such material discomfort, and I desire to repeat them to you. Yet however greatly I mourn the error for your sake, for my own it is somewhat balanced by the pleasure you have afforded me by your company. Indeed, ’t is with a certain regret that I received Colonel Brereton’s report, which, by completely exonerating Mr. Meredith, is like to deprive us of your presence.”

“Your Excellency is over-kind,” replied Mrs. Meredith, with an ease that excited the envy of her daughter.

“The general has ordered his barge for us, my dear,” said the squire, “and ’t is best that we get across the river while there ’s daylight, if we hope to be back at Greenwood by to-morrow evening.”

Farewells were promptly made, and, under the escort of Major Gibbs, they set out for the river. Once in the boat, Janice launched into an ecstatic eulogium on the commander-in-chief.

“Ay,” assented Mr. Meredith; “the general ’s a fine man in bad company. ’T is a mortal shame to think he’s like to come to the gallows.”

“Dadda! No!”

“Yes. They put a bold face on ’t, but after yesterday’s defeat they can’t hold the island another week; and when they lose it the rebellion is split, and that ’s an end to ’t. ’T will be all over in a month, mark me.”

Janice pulled a very serious face for a moment, and then asked: “Didst notice Colonel Brereton, dadda?”

“Ay. And a polite man he is. He not merely had us released, but I have in my pocket a protection from the general he got for me.”

“Didst not recognise him?”

“Recognise? Who? What?”

“Oh, nothing,” replied Janice.