"Thanks; I've asked enough of chatterers," he snapped out, and came to
the tree where we were sitting in the shadow on the cool, thick carpet
of the grass--such grass as I had never seen in that fair Southland
which I loved.

The younger children gathered shyly about me, their active tongues
suddenly silent, as though, all at once, they had taken a sudden alarm
to find me there.

The reaction of fatigue was settling over me--for my journey had been a
long one that day--and I leaned my back against the tree and yawned,
raising my hand to hide it.

"I wonder," I said, "whether anybody here knows if my boxes and servant
have arrived from Philadelphia."

"Your boxes are in the hallway by your bed-chamber," said Dorothy. "Your
servant went to Johnstown for news of you--let me see--I think it was
Saturday--"

"Friday," said Ruyven, looking up from the willow wand which he was
peeling.

"He never came back," observed Dorothy. "Some believe he ran away to
Albany, some think the Boston people caught him and impressed him to
work on the fort at Stanwix."

I felt my face growing hot.

"I should like to know," said I, "who has dared to interfere with my