father.

"Seeing we came to do you a service, Mr. Stair, I think we may set the
blunderbuss and the handful of slugs over against the smashed door. And
that fetches me back to our errand here. You say Madge is safe. Does
that mean that you have spirited her away since last night?"

"Dinna fash yoursel' about Madge, Richard Jennifer. She's meat for your
betters, sir!" rasped the old man, lapsing into the mother tongue, as he
did now and then in fear or anger.

"Still I would know what you mean when you say she is safe," says
Richard, whose determination to crack a nut was always proportioned to
the hardness of the shell.

Gilbert Stair cursed him roundly for an impertinent jackanapes, and then
gave him his answer.

"'Tis none of your business, Dickie Jennifer, but you may know and be
hanged to you! She rode home with the Witherbys last night after the
rout, and will be by this safe away in t'other Carolina where your
cursed Whiggeries darena lift head or hand."

"Of her own free will?" Dick persisted.

"Damme! yes; bag, baggage, serving wench and all. Now will you be off
about your business before some spying rascal lays an information
against me for harboring you?"

Richard joined me on the door-stone. The dawn was in its twilight now,