run!"

But the first thing Steadfast heard the next day was that the royal
standard had come down from the Cathedral tower. He had gone up to
Elmwood to get some provisions, and Tom Oates, who spent most of his
time in gazing from the steeple, assured him that if he would come
up, he would see for himself that the flags were changed. Indeed
some of the foot soldiers who had been quartered in the village to
guard the roads had brought the certain tidings that the city had
surrendered and that the malignants, as they called the Royalists,
were to march out that afternoon, by the same road as that by which
the parliamentary army had gone out two years before.

This would be the only chance for Emlyn to rejoin her father or to
learn his fate. The little thing was wild with excitement at the
news. Disdainfully she tore off what she called Rusha's Puritan
rags, though as that offended maiden answered "her own were _real_
rags in spite of all the pains Patience had taken with them. Nothing
would make them tidy," and Rusha pointed to a hopeless stain and to
the frayed edges past mending.

"I hate tidiness. Only Puritan rebels are tidy!"

"We are not Puritans!" cried Rusha.

Emlyn laughed. "Hark at your names," she said. "And what's that
great rebel rogue of a brother of yours?"

"Oh! he is Jeph! He ran away to the wars! But Stead isn't a
Puritan," cried Rusha, growing more earnest. "He always goes to