e meetinghouse in Brattle Street at the time of the
opening of this story was a large unpainted wooden structure which was
torn down in 1772 and replaced by an elegant edifice of brick with
quoins of freestone. John Hancock gave one thousand pounds and a bell.
The pastor, Reverend Samuel Cooper, was an earnest advocate for the
rights of the Colonies, and without doubt his influence, combined with
that of Samuel Adams, had much to do in attaching Hancock to the
patriots' side.]

"My cousin will not need your escort, sir," said Robert touching his
elbow.

The officer grew red in the face and disappeared in the barracks.

On Monday morning Robert bade his friends good-by. Peter Augustus had
something for him at the Green Dragon: a basket filled with
fruit--melocotoons, pears, and plums--and a neatly written note.

"Will Mr. Walden kindly take a basket of fruit to his sister, Miss
Rachel, from Ruth Newville."

That was all. What a surprise it would be to Rachel! Why was Miss
Newville sending it? She never had met Rachel; knew nothing of her,
except what little he had said, yet the gift!

The sun was going down the following evening when he reached the turn
of the road bringing him in sight of home. He was yet half a mile
away, but Rachel was standing in the doorway waving her apron. She
could not wait for Jenny to trot home, but came down the road
bareheaded, climbed into the wagon, put her arms around his neck, and
gave him a hug and a kiss. There was a look of wonder on her face when
he uncovered the basket of fruit and told her who had sent it,--a
beautiful girl, one of Berinthia's friends, whom he had rescued from
the king's soldiers. There were tears in Rachel's eyes when he put the
beads around her neck.

"Oh, Rob! how good you are!"

It was all she could say.

* * * * *

November came, and Berinthia Brandon was sitting in her chamber. From
its eastern window she looked across the burial ground with its rows
of headstones. The leafless trees were swaying in the breeze. She was
thinking of what Samuel Adams had said to her, that life is worth
living just in proportion to the service we can render to others. What
had she ever done for anybody? Not much. A feeling of sadness came
over her. The afternoon sun was lengthening the shadows of the
headstones across the grass-grown mounds. The first snow of
approaching winter was lying white and pure above the sleeping forms
of those