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 sley's concern, he carried Mehitable into Mistress Lindsley's kitchen a little later. He told them hastily what had happened, then hurried out to rejoin his friend and the restive horses.

The next morning, Mehitable, however, insisted upon rising, declaring that, save for a little stiffness, she felt perfectly well.

"Just think, Cherry, on the morrow 'tis Christmas!" she mused that afternoon.

"It does no good to think on't!" sighed Charity.

"How feels your head where that wicked man did strike ye?" asked Tabitha, looking up from her knitting. "Someone at the door, Cherry!" she added.

"My head does not hurt, now!" answered Mehitable. "John said he struck me not upon my temple, but where my hair broke the blow. And that I swooned more from fright than hurt. Who was it, Cherry?" She looked expectantly, as did Tabitha, at her sister, as the latter closed the door and came back to the fireside.

"It was someone asking to be directed to the army encampment," answered Charity, laughing. "That be the tenth person—I vow 'tis so! I've been called and called to the door and always 'tis the same question, 'Where be the army encampment? Which way lies Basking Ridge?

Mehitable looked at her in smiling speculation. "I do believe that this be the result o' Mistress