such a stir that the old town scarcely knew itself. One cried to
another. There were a thousand doubts and fears until the messenger was
found, quite gone with fatigue, on a bench at a tavern, with a great
crowd around him.

"Yes," he said, "on the nineteenth, four days ago. They were between the
devil and the deep sea. They tried to escape on the York River, but a
storm set in and they were driven back. And there was the French
squadron to swallow them up, and the French and American troops posted
about in a big half circle! 'Twas a splendid sight as one would wish to
see! And there was nothing but surrender, or they would all have been
cut to pieces. And such a sight when my lord sent General O'Hara with
his sword and the message, not having courage to come himself. Then we
were hustled off with the news. There's the posts of Yorktown and
Gloucester and seven thousand or so soldiers, and stores and arms and
colors and seamen and ships. By the Lord Harry! we're set up for life!
And now let me eat and drink in peace. By night there'll be someone else
to tell his story."

Surely never had there been such an early rising. Neighbors and friends
wrung each other's hands in great joy and talked in broken sentences,
though there were some Tories who said the thing was simply impossible,
and rested in serene satisfaction.

Primrose had roused, and was so wild with joy that there could be no
thought of a second nap. And after breakfast she was crazy to go over to
Walnut Street to Polly Wharton's.

The servant sent her into the small anteroom, for she wasn't quite sure
Mistress Polly was in. And there, in a long easy-chair Dr. Rush had
planned and a skilled carpenter made, that could be lowered into a bed
at will, reclined a pale young fellow with a mop of chestnut hair, and
temples that were full of blue veins, as well as the long, thin hands.

"Oh--it is Mistress Primrose Henry--but I was hardly sure! You are so
tall, and you were such a little girl. Oh, do you remember when I ran
over you on the Schuylkill and quarreled with your brother and wanted to
fight a duel? I can just see how you looked as you lay there in his
arms, pale as death, with your pretty yellow hair floating about. Well,
I had a monstrous bad hour, I assure you. And you were such a gay, saucy
little rebel, and so full of enthusiasm! By George! I believe you sent
us all to war. And now this glorious news, and Andrew Henry in the midst
of it all! It make