th tingling
nerves that Dorothy and I could not fail to be thrown much together.

So it was arranged, and that afternoon he set out for Mount Vernon,
whence he would go direct to Will's Creek. His mother cried a little
after he was gone, so Dorothy told me, but she was proud of her boy, as
she had good cause to be, and appeared before the world with smiling
face. The week which followed flew by like a dream. I took my lesson
with the foils morning and evening, and soon began to make some progress
in the art. As much time as Dorothy would permit, I spent with her, and
in one of our talks she told me that she had drawn from her mother by
much questioning the story of my father's marriage and of the quarrel
which followed.

"When I heard," she concluded, "how Riverview might have been yours but
for that unhappy dispute,"--so Mrs. Stewart had not told the whole truth,
and I smiled grimly to myself,--"I saw how unjustly and harshly we had
always used you, and I made up my mind to be very good to you when next
we met, as some slight recompense."

"And is it for that only you are kind to me, Dorothy?" I asked. "Is it
not a little for my own sake?"

"Hoity-toity," she cried, "an you try me too far, I shall withdraw my
favor altogether, sir. My cheeks burn still when I think what might have
happened at the ball the other night, when you so far forgot yourself as
to grab at me like a wild Indian. 'Twas well I had my wits about me."

"But, indeed, Dorothy," I protested, "'twas all your fault. You had
plagued me beyond endurance."

"I fear you are a very bold young man," she answered pensively, and when
I would have proved the truth of her assertion, sent me packing.

So the week passed, the day came when we were to leave Williamsburg, and
at six o'clock one cool October morning, the great coach of the
Washingtons rolled westward down the sandy street, the maples casting
long shadows across the road. And on the side where Mistress Dorothy sat,
I was riding at the window.

CHAPTER VIII

A RIDE TO WILLIAMSBURG

I was received civilly enough at Riverview, and soon determined to remain
there until Major Washington returned from the west. My aunt treated me
with great consideration, doubtless because she feared to anger me, and I
soon fell into the routine of the estate. My cousin James, a roystering
boy of fourteen, was not yet old enough to be covetous, and he and I were
soon friends. Dorothy treated me as she had