not be well for the present," said Washington thoughtfully.
"But in a day or two Capt. Brewster will be tried by court-martial at
Morristown. It shall be so ordered that when he is conveyed thither
his guard shall halt at the Blossom Farm. I will see that the officer
in command gives you an opportunity to see him. And I think I can
promise also, Mistress Thankful, that your father shall be also present
under his own roof, a free man."

They had reached the entrance to the mansion, and entered the hall.
Thankful turned impulsively, and kissed the extended hand of the
commander. "You are so good! I have been so foolish--so very, very
wrong," she said, with a slight trembling of her lip. "And your
Excellency believes my story; and those gentlemen were NOT spies, but
even as they gave themselves to be."

"I said not that much," replied Washington with a kindly smile, "but no
matter. Tell me rather, Mistress Thankful, how far your acquaintance
with these gentlemen has gone; or did it end with the box on the ear
that you gave the baron?"

"He had asked me to ride with him to the Baskingridge, and I--had
said--yes," faltered Mistress Thankful.

"Unless I misjudge you, Mistress Thankful, you can without great
sacrifice promise me that you will not see him until I give you my
permission," said Washington, with grave playfulness.

The swinging light shone full in Thankful's truthful eyes as she lifted
them to his.

"I do," she said quietly.

"Good-night," said the commander, with a formal bow.

"Good-night, your Excellency."

IV

The sun was high over the Short Hills when Mistress Thankful, the next
day, drew up her sweating mare beside the Blossom Farm gate. She had
never looked prettier, she had never felt more embarrassed, as she
entered her own house. During her rapid ride she had already framed a
speech of apology to Major Van Zandt, which, however, utterly fled from
her lips as that officer showed himself respectfully on the threshold.
Yet she permitted him to usurp the functions of the grinning Caesar,
and help her from her horse; albeit she was conscious of exhibiting the
awkward timidity of a bashful rustic, until at last, with a stammering,
"Thank ye," she actually ran up stairs to hide her glowing face and far
too conscious eyelids.

During the rest of that day Major Van Zandt quietly kept out of the
way, without obtrusively seeming to avoid her. Yet, when they met
casually in the performan