child!"

She took the soft hands in hers, that were soft again now that she did
little coarse labor.

"It was not much to do, surely. And it was rare fun when the guards
passed us."

"I owe much to thee and Madam Wetherill. And did he speak of any
return?"

"Nay, his is a soldier's life."

"I sometimes think it is not wisdom to plan children's lives. Perhaps if
we had let him be," and she gave a gentle sigh. "But we had hopes he
would fancy Rachel, and she somehow had set her heart upon it. He seemed
not inclined to marry, and so we should have waited until the spirit
guided him. Child, I thank thee for thy care and interest in him. We
should have been glad if thou couldst have kept thy father's faith and
been content to stay here, but I can see thou didst need a larger life.
Perhaps we narrow ours too much. It may not always be the Lord's will as
we think. I have strange ideas as I sit and knit or sew. And I remember
that good Mr. Penn and his wife took much pleasure of a kind we hardly
approve of now. It is hard to tell which is right."

"Dear Aunt Lois, whatever leads people to be sweet and joyful and
thankful and kind to all who suffer cannot be far wrong. And were there
no good men before the time of Mr. Fox and Mr. Penn?"

"Thou wert always finding prettiness of speech and ways that have a
charm in them. And if thou shouldst send word to Andrew at any time,
tell him his mother's heart is tender towards him and that no one can
fill his place. Thou hast given me much joy. But I can see thou art not
fitted for the grave life here, and if our ancestors crossed the sea
that they might have liberty of belief, why should we not grant it to
others?"

James Henry no longer insisted upon what he called his rights in his
brother's child. She was too gay and worldly for his taste, which, where
women were concerned, could have been comprised in the old advice "To
avoid Papishers and learn to knit." And when he looked on the industry
and thrift of Rachel his heart hardened toward his son for his
blindness.

For Primrose went steadily now to Christ Church, but England would not
send over a bishop while people were so contumacious, and so some rites
were held in abeyance.

But she was very happy and growing tall rapidly, and Friend Henry turned
her over altogether to Madam Wetherill, who after all was not forgotten
by the fashionables, even if they did run after the Arnolds.

And in the autumn there were some chan