an
accession of enthusiastic men to the army. General Washington had
determined to attempt the capture of New York, but hearing there were
large re-enforcements on the way to Sir Henry Clinton, allowed the
British to believe this was his plan and turned his army southward.

A gala time indeed it was for the Quaker city. For the Continentals were
no longer ragged, but proudly marched in the glory of new shoes and
unpatched breeches and newly burnished accouterments. The French
regiment of DeSoissonnais, in rose-color and white, with rose-colored
plumes, was especially handsome and quite distanced our own army
trappings, that had never been fine. General Washington, Count
Rochambeau, and M. de Luzerne, the French minister, with Chief Justice
McKean reviewed the troops. The sober citizens were stirred to unwonted
enthusiasm. Houses were decorated, windows filled with pretty girls
waved handkerchiefs, and the mob shouted itself hoarse with joy; going
at night to the residence of the French minister and shouting lustily
amid the cheering for the King, Louis XVI.

The hall boy ushered in a fine martial-looking man in officer's dress at
Madam Wetherill's. A number of guests were in the parlor, and he
hesitated a moment before he said: "Summon Miss Primrose Henry."

"Grand sojer man in buff and blue," he whispered. "'Spect it General
Washington hisself."

Primrose flashed out. For a moment she stood amazed. It was not her
brother.

"Primrose, hast thou forgotten me?"

"Oh!" with a glad cry of joy. "Oh, Andrew," and she was clasped in the
strong arms and greeted with a kiss.

"Yes," joyfully. "All the march I have counted on this moment. I could
not wait until to-morrow. Primrose, how are they--my dear mother?"

"She is quite well, but Uncle Henry fails and has grown very deaf. And I
think Rachel and Penn do not agree well, and are not happy. But things
go on the same."

"And is there--any longing for me?"

Oh, how cruel it was to feel that only the poor mother cared. For
Primrose was not old enough nor suspicious enough to imagine the hundred
little ways Rachel found to blame Andrew and widen the breach between
him and his father.

"Thy mother is always asking for thee. I learn thy infrequent letters by
heart, and repeat them to her as I get opportunity."

"Thank thee a thousand times."

"And my brother?"

"Hast thou not heard?"

"Not since the return of Allin Wharton. He is still ill and no one sees
him, b