and that the British were guilty of bad management rather than of wanton cruelty. He spoke of no one in particular, but she noticed that he took especial care to remark that there were exceptions to the general rule of their low degree of intelligence and their abject submission to their priests. The captain said that he could easily understand that view of the sad events. The British officers were brave undoubtedly, and efficient in many ways, but they were vain and supercilious in feeling and arrogant in manner. They were too proud to be taught anything by provincials. “I hope," said he, "they have learned something from last year in their sad experience at Fort Duquesne. Nothing saved them but that young Virginia captain, as their brave general acknowledged before he died. We cannot afford many such lessons, however, or there will be no one left to profit by them. You will not find it all fun at the camp, my boys, even if we keep out of the hands of the Indians."

As the lieutenant took his leave the captain handed him as a keepsake, or, if need should be, a token of recognition, a pair of silver sleeve links which had once been buttons upon the coat of the French general, who had given them to him in acknowledgment of some act of kindness. They had been made over in the camp by an ingenious young artillery officer from Boston, Paul Revere.

As the young men made their adieux to the ladies with much ceremonious politeness, Debby returned those of Bates with cool indifference, but expressed much solicitude for the welfare of the other. When they had gone she seemed sobered and immediately set to work upon the traveling companion for Lincoln, but her sister noticed that she also carried on work upon another of finer material and more carefully set stitches, which she said was for nobody in particular. Into this latter she worked in small initials one of her own shining hairs, while in the other she ostentatiously exhibited in letters unmistakable, "J. L.," for the worthy ensign.

CHAPTER II

DR. GAY'S SERMON BEFORE CAPTAIN BAXTER'S COMPANY

SUNDAY morning came and went, with Lemuel and his wife, accompanied by their elder offspring, Lemuel, Sarah and Thomas, sitting in the great square pew while Parson Gay's pious and ponderous utterances passed for the most part over their heads unheeded. The elder Lemuel tried to persuade himself that he was giving more attention to the sermon than his son seemed to be, resolving that he would borrow no trouble, and that "sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof." He knew that he was doing his duty and that his part now was only to do it faithfully under guidance. But for all his brave resolves, he could not prevent thoughts of grim possibilities intruding themselves. This was not his first campaign.

Mrs. Baxter, knowing that the joy of the conflict was not for her, but only the weary waiting, could not but look even more intently at this side of the picture.

A gleam of sunshine broke the gloom. As the long discourse came to an end, the parents stepped lightly out, returning with the infant, a vigorous and comely child, even in the critical eyes of many besides his relations, decked in the simple embroidery which had served all his predecessors and a lace cap wrought by his Aunt Debby's nimble fingers. They were now weaving a new net around the susceptible heart of Ensign Lincoln, who had escorted her and her precious charge from the house to the sanctuary at the appointed time, which, happening to be a little too early,

gave her a few moments' opportunity to complete the capture.

The pastor descended from the overhanging throne of wisdom whence had fallen his formal admonitions, to lay a friendly and sacramental hand upon the head of the infant, baptizing him "Gridley," and praying for his welfare in soul and body, that he might grow up a comfort and a staff to the parents so soon to be parted, a pious youth, a useful man and a trusty son of God. The boy assented with a shout of triumph.

After the frugal and quiet midday meal of the soldiers, friends and spectators began to assemble on the little plain just above Pear Tree Hill. The men of Hingham had sent an invitation to the companies of Captain Deshon of Halifax and of Captain Loring with his men from Scituate and Bridgewater, on their way to muster camp at Dedham, to unite in worship under the ministration of Dr. Gay before completing the remaining ten miles that evening.

The Hingham men had received their new blue coats and the regulation three-cornered cocked hats, but had left behind for the afternoon the blankets and knapsacks, for they were not to go on until two days later. Their canteens were not omitted. There was no right of the soldier more zealously guarded, nothing the loss or delay of which gave rise to more complaint than the gill of rum, which, indeed, in trying circumstances they thought might very well be increased.

Their guns, their own property, calling for an extra bounty, were of various sizes and patterns, but each man had cast his own bullets and knew they would fit.

Among them moved sedately, in bottle-green and brown, the older citizens, whose inclinations, duties or infirmities kept them from active service, conversing gravely on the probabilities of the war, the dreaded success of the French in hemming in the active and growing British colonies and such matters of secular interest as were fit topics for the Lord's day. The younger portion of the onlookers allowed.

themselves greater liberties, freely criticising the dress and equipment of their defenders or the military bearing of the best-known officers or their personal friends. But even the children crept about in a demure and suppressed manner in keeping with the day.

Conspicuous among the officers, more so indeed than his superiors in rank, was Lieutenant Bates, whose tall, graceful figure and frank, boyish face attracted the favorable comments of nearly all the young women, except the few from Weymouth who had walked over with the grave first lieutenant and who feared that their cousin's merits were not receiving their due popular appreciation. The numerous relatives of the ensign, too, made remarks of similar tenor, but, "after all, there was time, and in the end solid worth would always tell." The ensign himself, however, was the least aggrieved of all, for Miss Debby had distinctly shown her indifference to his rival in the popular favor and was now distinguishing him above all others by the amiability with which she received his heavy compliments. He was not shrewd observer enough to note that she talked more briskly and became more fascinating to himself, as she addressed a careless nod to Bates on his way toward a group consisting of a thin, careworn, elderly-looking young man, his dark, weather-beaten wife and three unkempt children, standing apart from the others. Near them, but not of them, as she seemed willing to have noticed, was a girl of slender figure, pleasing features, nose a little uptilted, mobile mouth and classically curved lips. She was of a delicate creamy complexion like a tea-rose, with wavy hair around her face and hanging down her back in long, black braids tied with red ribbon. Her eyes were dark, keen and restless, but never too restless to be well aware of the location of the fascinating lieutenant. He tried for a time to resist, for he knew that they were not the only ones which followed his movements with interest, but at last he strolled slowly, as with indifference and by chance, to her side and soon became oblivious to all other attractions.

"You are leaving us," said the dark beauty, "Monsieur Lieutenant, and for a long time, is it not? We shall be sorry for you to go, but we are sorry, too, that you are going to fight our friends, and friends of the blessed Virgin. We have been good subjects to King George, only we could not give up our holy religion. He have not rewarded us well. I think he did not understand."

The lieutenant could not help raising his eyebrows at this, for, lenient as he was inclined to be, he knew that this was very far from a correct view of the situation; but he compelled his desire to please to suppress his loyalty. He wanted to take her hand and plead with her, to tell her that hard as it might be for her and for him, the best if only to convince her that she might make one man the happiest in the world.

The occasion was evidently highly unsuitable for such ardent expressions, even if he had been able to use them under the guise of light badinage. "And do you, too, wish. to go away?" said he. "Shall I not find you here when I come home?" asked he with a searching look into her dark eyes, which seemed to his youthful gaze to be filled with deep meaning. All that they really meant was that she liked to be looked at and talked to in that way, but had not the slightest idea of reciprocating except just so far as might be necessary to avoid breaking up the amusement. Whether there was another to whom she would be more sincere no one knew, not even Antone Trawhaw, who liked the lieutenant too well to allow the "singel woman" to make a fool of him, if any warning of his could avail.

But now came the sound of the tum-tum-tumtumtum, as Captain Deshon with his men emerged from the nearby woods to the simple tap of the drum. The fife would have made it too much like secular music.

"Fall in!" ordered the captain. Bates hurriedly whispered, "I shall see you to-night," as he ran to the head of his platoon. There he ordered in a low but decided tone, "Steady in the ranks," as some of the more frivolous and