The lecture or kiss received,--and a sight of Miss Meredith
would have led the casual observer to opine that the latter
was the form of punishment adopted,--the two girls mounted
into the big, lumbering coach along with their elders, and were
jolted and shaken over the four miles of ill-made road that
separated Greenwood, the "seat," as the "New York Gazette"
termed it, of the Honourable Lambert Meredith, from the village
of Brunswick, New Jersey. Either this shaking, or something
else, put the two maidens in a mood quite unbefitting the
day, for in the moment they tarried outside the church while the
coach was being placed in the shed, Miss Drinker's face was
frowning, and once again Miss Meredith's nails were dug deep
into the little palms of her hands.

"Yes," Janice whispered. "She put it in the fire. Dadda
saw her."

"And we'll never know if Amaryllis explained that she had
ever loved him," groaned Tabitha.

"If ever I get the chance!" remarked Janice, suggestively.

"Oh, Jan!" cried Tabitha, ecstatically. "Would n't it be
delightsome to be loved by a peasant, and to find he was a
prince and that he had disguised himself to test thy love?"

"'T would be better fun to know he was a prince and torture
him by pretending you did n't care for him," replied
Janice. "Men are so teasable."