om of
gentlefolk of--of foreign extraction to wander through strange lands,
commenting upon the habits and doings of the peoples. He will find in
Jersey," continued Mr. Blossom, apparently appealing to Thankful, yet
really evading her contemptuous glance, "a hard-working yeomanry, ever
ready to welcome the stranger, and account to him, penny for penny, for
all his necessary expenditure; for which purpose, in these troublous
times, he will provide for himself gold or other moneys not affected by
these local disturbances."

"He will find, good friend Blossom," said the baron in a rapid, voluble
way, utterly at variance with the soft, quiet gravity of his eyes,
"Beauty, Grace, Accomplishment, and--eh--Santa Maria, what shall I
say?" He turned appealingly to the count.

"Virtue," nodded the count.

"Truly, Birtoo! all in the fair lady of thees countries. Ah, believe
me, honest friend Blossom, there is mooch more in thees than in thoss!"

So much of this speech was addressed to Mistress Thankful, that she had
to show at least one dimple in reply, albeit her brows were slightly
knit, and she had turned upon the speaker her honest, questioning eyes.

"And then the General Washington has been kind enough to offer his
protection," added the count.

"Any fool--any one," supplemented Thankful hastily, with a slight
blush--"may have the general's pass, ay, and his good word. But what
of Mistress Prudence Bookstaver?--she that has a sweetheart in
Knyphausen's brigade, ay,--I warrant a Hessian, but of gentle blood, as
Mistress Prudence has often told me,--and, look you, all her letters
stopped by the general, ay, I warrant, read by my Lady Washington too,
as if 'twere HER fault that her lad was in arms against Congress.
Riddle me that, now!"

"'Tis but prudence, lass," said Blossom, frowning on the girl. "'Tis
that she might disclose some movement of the army, tending to defeat
the enemy."

"And why should she not try to save her lad from capture or ambuscade
such as befell the Hessian commissary with the provisions that you--"

Mr. Blossom, in an ostensible fatherly embrace, managed to pinch
Mistress Thankful sharply. "Hush, lass," he said with simulated
playfulness; "your tongue clacks like the Whippany mill.--My daughter
has small concern--'tis the manner of womenfolk--in politics," he
explained to his guests. "These dangersome days have given her sore
affliction by way of parting comrades of her childhood, and ot