nt down the garden, he added: "My mother said
'thou' to you. Did you hear?"

"Yes, I heard. She was giving me what I asked, and would not say so."

"Yes, it was not like her," said the vicomte, well pleased.

The September days went by, and to all outward appearance Madame de
Courval accepted with no further protest what it was out of her power
to control. Uncle Josiah insisted on settling upon Margaret a modest
income, and found it the harder to do so because, except Mistress Gainor
Wynne, no one was disposed to differ with him. That lady told him it was
shabby. To which he replied that there would be the more when he died.

"Get a permanent ground-rent on your grave," said Gainor, "or never will
you lie at rest."

"It is our last ride," said Schmidt, on October the first, of this, the
last year of my story. They rode out through the busy Red City and up
the Ridge Road, along which General Green led the left wing of the army
to the fight at Germantown, and so to the Wissahickon Creek, where,
leaving their horses at an inn, they walked up the stream.

"_Ach, lieber Himmel_, this is well," said Schmidt as they sat down on a
bed of moss above the water. "Tell me," he said, "more about the
President. Oh, more; you were too brief." He insisted eagerly. "I like
him with the little ones. And, ah, that tragedy of fallen ambition and
all the while the violin music and the dance. It is said that sometimes
he is pleased to walk a minuet with one of these small maids, and then
will kiss the fortunate little partner."

"He did not that day; he told them he could not. He was sad about
Randolph."

"When they are old, they will tell of it, Rene." And, indeed, two of
these children lived to be great-grandmothers, and kissing their
grandchildren's children, two of whom live to-day in the Red City, bade
them remember that the lips which kissed them had often been kissed by
Washington.

"It is a good sign of a man to love these little ones," said Schmidt.
"What think you, Rene? Was Randolph guilty?"

"I do not think so, sir. Fauchet was a quite irresponsible person; but
what that silent old man, Washington, finally believed, I should like to
know. I fear that he thought Randolph had been anything but loyal to his
chief."

For a little while the German seemed lost in thought. Then he said: "You
will have my horses and books and the pistols and my rapier. My life
will, I hope, need them no more. I mean the weapons; but who can