"I don't think we have any right to question the certificate from
Islip, Simon; and William Warner's word (whom thee knows by
hearsay) is that of a good and honest man. Henry himself will
stand ready to satisfy thee, if it is needful."

Here he turned to greet a tall, fresh-faced youth, who had quietly
joined the group at the men's end of the meeting-house. He was
nineteen, blue-eyed, and rosy, and a little embarrassed by the
grave, scrutinizing, yet not unfriendly eyes fixed upon him.

"Simon, this is Henry's oldest son, De Courcy," said Abraham.

Simon took the youth's hand, saying, "Where did thee get thy
outlandish name?"

The young man colored, hesitated, and then said, in a low, firm
voice, "It was my grandfather's name."

One of the heavy carriages of the place and period, new and shiny,
in spite of its sober colors, rolled into the yard. Abraham
Bradbury and De Courcy Donnelly set forth side by side, to meet it.

Out of it descended a tall, broad-shouldered figure--a man in the
prime of life, whose ripe, aggressive vitality gave his rigid
Quaker garb the air of a military undress. His blue eyes seemed to
laugh above the measured accents of his plain speech, and the close
crop of his hair could not hide its tendency to curl. A bearing
expressive of energy and the habit of command was not unusual in
the sect, strengthening, but not changing, its habitual mask; yet