living. He
goes among them that he might know how they live, for he wants to help
them all he can. They call him 'Farmer George,' so I have heard my
father say, and I am sure that is an honour for any King."

"Queer honour, I should say, Miss. And he won great honour in his
fight with America, didn't he? He was going to teach the colonies a
lesson, and whip them into line. I'd like to have seen his old red
face when the news of the defeat of his forces reached him. He's
getting his punishment now, and he'll get more before he's through. He
ruined me, an honest man. But he's getting his turn. I've heard that
he goes out of his mind at times, and that his sons are turning out
bad. Yes, yes, he's finding out now what it is to suffer. Oh, he'll
learn, and I'm glad."

To these bitter words Jean made no reply. She realised that the less
she said the better it would be. To oppose this man would only inflame
his anger. She knew that his excitement increased his suffering, for
at times during his tirades he had placed his hand to his injured side
and gasped for breath. As she gazed into the fire she knew that the
man was watching her, although she did not look in his direction. For
a few minutes a deep silence pervaded the room, and when the man again
spoke it was in a much milder tone.

"You must have had a hard time of it," he said. "I can well imagine
how greatly worried your father must be."

"I fear he is about heart-broken," Jean replied. "He has been failing
of late, and I am afraid this blow will go hard with him. I was his
only comfort."

"It was a great trial for him to leave his old home, I suppose."

"In a way it was. But he was very brave through it all. He did what
he could to encourage others, and many were helped by his cheerful
manner. He told them that it was a great privilege to suffer in a
noble cause, and that it was an honour to be loyal pioneers in a
strange land."

No sooner had Jean uttered these words than she wished them unsaid.
But the man appeared not to have heard them.

"Tell me about your old home," he requested. "Also about the war, and
your coming to this country. It will help to pass the time."

Jean was only too glad to do this, so quietly and simply she told about
her old happy home in Connecticut, her mother's death, the war, and all
that it meant to them, of their arrival at Portland Point, the voyage
up the river, and the settlement in the wilderness. O