ide!" he said. "And
yet to-day it seems but yesternight! Now, little maid, the Indian has run
away, and the path to the house is clear."

* * * * *

In his smoke-filled, untidy best room Darden sat at table, his drink
beside him, his pipe between his fingers, and open before him a book of
jests, propped by a tome of divinity. His wife coming in from the
kitchen, he burrowed in the litter upon the table until he found an open
letter, which he flung toward her. "The Commissary threatens again, damn
him!" he said between smoke puffs. "It seems that t'other night, when I
was in my cups at the tavern, Le Neve and the fellow who has Ware Creek
parish--I forget his name--must needs come riding by. I was dicing with
Paris. Hugon held the stakes. I dare say we kept not mum. And out of pure
brotherly love and charity, my good, kind gentlemen ride on to
Williamsburgh on a tale-bearing errand! Is that child never coming back,
Deborah?"

"She's coming now," answered his wife, with her eyes upon the letter. "I
was watching from the upper window. He rowed her up the creek himself."

The door opened, and Audrey entered the room. Darden turned heavily in his
chair, and took the long pipe from between his teeth. "Well?" he said.
"You gave him my letter?"

Audrey nodded. Her eyes were dreamy; the red of the buds in her hair had
somehow stolen to her cheeks; she could scarce keep her lips from smiling.
"He bade me tell you to come to supper with him on Monday," she said. "And
the Falcon that we saw come in last week brought furnishing for the great
house. Oh, Mistress Deborah, the most beautiful things! The rooms are all
to be made fine; and the negro women do not the work aright, and he wants
some one to oversee them. He says that he has learned that in England
Mistress Deborah was own woman to my Lady Squander, and so should know
about hangings and china and the placing of furniture. And he asks that
she come to Fair View morning after morning until the house is in order.
He wishes me to come, too. Mistress Deborah will much oblige him, he
says, and he will not forget her kindness."

Somewhat out of breath, but very happy, she looked with eager eyes from
one guardian to the other. Darden emptied and refilled his pipe,
scattering the ashes upon the book of jests. "Very good," he said briefly.

Into the thin visage of the ex-waiting-woman, who had been happier at my
Lady Squander's than in a Virginia p