and laughing away these hours."

My cheeks burned.

"You mean Washington's troops?"

"Aye! I saw them here in Philadelphia before Sir William came," her voice
lowered, yet earnest, "and they are not playing at war; grim, silent,
sober-faced men, dressed in odds and ends, not pretty to look at; some
tattered and hungry, but they fight hard. Mr. Conway was telling us
yesterday of how they suffered all winter long, while we danced and
feasted here, Washington himself sleeping with the snow drifting over
him. You do not know the Americans, for you are not long across the
water, but they are not the kind to be conquered by such child's play as
this."

"You are an American then?"

"By birth, yes," unhesitatingly. "We are of those loyal to the King,
but--I admire men."

It was with an effort I restrained my words, eager to proclaim my
service, yet comprehending instantly that I dare not even trust this
plain-spoken girl with the truth. She respected the men, sympathized with
the sacrifices of Washington's little army, contrasted all they endured
with the profligacy of the English and Hessian troops, and yet remained
loyal to the King's cause. Even as I hesitated, she spoke again.

"What is your regiment?"