not for an instant doubt that he would have done as much for
me.

Before we broke up for the evening the gentlemen plied me with questions
concerning the state of affairs in England, and the temper of his Majesty
and Parliament. I say without vanity that I was able to enlighten them
not a little, for I had learned a deeper lesson from the set into which
I had fallen in London than if I had become the confidant of Rockingham
himself. America was a long way from England in those days. I regretted
that I had not arrived in London in time to witness Lord Chatham's
dramatic return to politics in January, when he had completed the work
of Junius, and broken up the Grafton ministry. But I told them of the
debate I had heard in St. Stephen's, and made them laugh over Mr. Fox's
rescue of the King's friends, and the hustling of Mr. Burke from the
Lords.

They were very curious, too, about Mr. Manners; and I was put to much
ingenuity to answer their queries and not reveal my own connection with
him. They wished to know if it were true that some nobleman had flung a
bottle at his head in a rage because Dorothy would not marry him, as Dr.
Courtenay's letter had stated. I replied that it was so. I did not add
that it was the same nobleman who had been pitched into the Serpentine.
Nor did I mention the fight at Vauxhall. I made no doubt these things
would come to their ears, but I did not choose to be the one to tell
them. Mr. Swain remained after the other gentlemen, and asked me if I
would come with him to Gloucester Street; that he had something to say to
me. We went the long way thither, and I was very grateful to him for
avoiding Marlboro' Street, which must needs bring me painful
recollections. He said little on the way.

I almost expected to see Patty come tripping down from the vine-covered
porch with her needlework in her hand, and the house seemed strangely
empty without her. Mr. Swain had his negro, Romney, place chairs for us
under the apple tree, and bring out pipes and sangaree. The air was
still, and heavy with the flowers' scent, and the sun was dipping behind
the low eaves of the house. It was so natural to be there that I scarce
realized all that had happened since last I saw the back gate in the
picket fence. Alas! little Patty would never more be smuggled through it
and over the wall to Marlboro' Street. Mr. Swain recalled my thoughts.

"Captain Clapsaddle has asked me to look into this matter of the will,
Ric