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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ay, Laus Deo!”

“I can’t think of him as doing that,” ejaculated Janice.

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

“What did he?”

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

“’T is too bad General Washington was beat,” sighed Janice.

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

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

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

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

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

“Whither?”

“To Brunswick.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thet ’ere is a lie!” cried Hennion, yet following the officer.

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

“I defy yer ter show it.” challenged Hennion.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not I,” denied Janice. “And why should I be?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Gemini!” burst from the other. “I believe ’t is a hit from the way you colour.”

“And if ’t was—which ’t is not—’t is naught to feel ashamed of.” resentfully answered the accused.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“His wound!” exclaimed Janice.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

While this spectacle was affording infinite amusement to the officers and sentinels, Brereton, after helping Mrs. Meredith alight, went in search of Washington and in a few moments returned with him.

“We have made free with your home, as you see, Mrs. Meredith,” apologised the commander-in-chief, as he shook her hand, "and I scarce know now whether to bid you welcome, or to ask leave for us to tarry till to-morrow. May we not effect a compromise by your dining and supping with me, and, in return, your favouring me and my family with a night’s lodging?”

"Thou couldst not fail of welcome for far longer, General Washington,” said Mrs. Meredith, warmly, “but thou art doubly so if Lady Washington is with thee.”

“Nay; I meant my military family,” explained the general. “Mrs. Washington retreated, ere the campaign opened, to Mount Vernon.” Then he turned to the daughter and shook her hand. “Ah, Miss Janice,” he said, “sorry reports we’ve had of thy goings on, and we greatly feared we had lost thee to the cause.”

"Ah, no. your Excellency,” protested the girl. “Though I did once pray that the British should capture Philadelphia, ’t was not because I wished you beaten, but solely because it would bring dadda to us, and—and many a prayer I’ve made for you.”

The general smiled. “’T will be glad news to some," he said, with a sidelong look at Brereton, “that thy sympathies have always been with us. I presume thou hast simply been doing the British soldiery all the harm that thou couldst under guise of friendliness. I’ll warrant thou’st a greater tale of wounded officers than any of Morgan’s riflemen, sharpshooters though they be.”

“I would I could say I had been ever faithful, your Excellency, but I must own to fickleness.”

“These are times that test loyalty to the full,” replied Washington, “and there has been many a waverer in the land.”

“Of that I know full well, your Excellency.”

“Nay, Miss Meredith, thou needest not pretend that thou hast any knowledge of inconstancy. From that particular failing of mankind I’ll agree to hold thee harmless.”

“Your Excellency but compliments me," answered Janice, “in presuming me exempt from forgetfulness.” And as she spoke the girl gave an unconscious glance at Brereton.