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 The girl turned with a start, covered with confusion.

"Why—Your Excellency—" Blushing, she popped the spoonful of milk she had been holding in into Charity's patient little mouth.

"Daydreams mean, ye know, that" began the general teasingly. But at her imploring gesture he stopped. "Nay, I did not mean to be rude," he apologized. Tis my unseemly habit to like to watch people when they know it not. It is not fair to them, so I always apologize—and go on watching!"

Joining his amused chuckle, Mistress Nancy cast a cautious look over her shoulder. Mehitable, assisted by two of the officers, was washing the dishes. Mistress Condit was overseeing the task, watching her precious china rather anxiously. The rest of the general's staff were gathered about the windows, where they gazed out at the torrents of rain which blurred the panes and dripped dismally from the house roof.

"Your Excellency," said Mistress Nancy in a low voice, "think you this—this Newark mission be a—a—dangerous one?"

The general glanced at her smilingly, as though he had guessed a secret. Then, after the thoughtful pause which was habitual with him, for he was a man to weigh his statements, he answered her.

"Nay, my dear, I think not. We hold Newark, now, ye know."

"Aye, 'tis so," admitted Mistress Nancy. "Still"

She was interrupted by a sharp exclamation from one of the officers at the window.

"Who comes there?" he cried, bending forward to