at Saratoga."

"Why does he hang up that thing of abomination for a light and a guide to
his footsteps, if his way be not far from ours?"

"Why, father! Colonel Evesham was a good man. I dare say he fought for the
same reason that thee preaches, because he felt it to be his duty."

"I find no fault with him, Rachel. Doubtless he followed his light, as thee
says, but he followed it in better ways too. He cleared land and built a
homestead and a meeting-house. Why doesn't his grandson hang up his old
broadaxe and plowshare and worship them, if he must have idols, instead of
that symbol of strife and bloodshed. Does thee want our Dorothy's children
to grow up under the shadow of the sword?"

There was a stern light of prophecy in the old man's eyes.

"May be Walter Evesham would take it down," said Rachel simply, leaning
back and closing her eyes. "I never was much of a hand to argue, even if
I had the strength for it; but it would hurt me a good deal--I must say
it--if thee should deny Dorothy in this matter, Thomas. It's a very serious
thing for old folks to try to turn young hearts the way they think they
ought to go. I remember now,--I was thinking about it last night, and it
all came back as fresh--I don't know that I ever told thee about that young
Friend who visited me before I heard thee preach at Stony Valley? Well,
father, he was wonderful pleased with him, but I didn't feel any drawing
that way. He urged me a good deal, more than was pleasant for either of us.
He wasn't at all reconciled to thee, Thomas, if thee remembers."

"I remember," said Thomas Barton. "It was an anxious time."