did you suppose we were
all about?"

Dolly Trumbull (who was on a visit to the Wolcotts') looked shy and
somewhat distressed, and promptly retired into a corner, where she
resumed her conversation with her cousin, Josiah Huntington; and
presently Betty came flying into the kitchen, her gown tucked up ready
for work, and full of apologies for her tardy appearance. Sally Tracy,
who was Betty's sworn friend and companion in all her fun and frolics,
pounced upon her at once; but Miss Euphemia called them both to assist
her with the moulds, Betty had to reserve the story of her adventure
until a more propitious moment.

"Has there been any news from Oliver when he set forth on this last
expedition?" asked Dolly.

"It is too soon yet to hear," said Josiah, "though possibly by to-morrow
some intelligence may reach us. Francis and I did not reach here from
New Haven for four days, and we return there on Saturday. As it was, I
left only in obedience to my father's command, and brought news of
Lyon's ravaging the city to General Wolcott, dodging Hessians and
outlying marauders by the way. Do you stop here long, Dolly, or will
you have my escort back to Lebanon?"

"I came for a month," answered Dolly; "I was ill of spring fever, and
since then my mother thinks this mountain air benefits me. But you go
back to your duties at Yale College, though it's early yet for them."

"My students and I have spent our vacation handling cartridges," said
Josiah grimly, for he was a tutor at Yale, and had done yeoman service
in the defense of New Haven. "'Tis a sorry sight to see our beautiful
city now laid waste; but that our faith is strong in the Continental
Congress and General Washington, I know not how heart could bear it."

"Who speaks of faith?" said Pamela's gentle voice, as she slipped into a
chair on Dolly's right. "I think hope is ever a better watchword."

"Aye," murmured Huntington, as Dolly summoned courage to cross the room,
"it is one I will carry ever with me, Pamela, if _you_ bid me do so."

"I did not mean," faltered Pamela, casting down her dove-like eyes, but
not so quickly that she did not see the ardent glance of her lover,
"I--that is--oh yes, Aunt Euphemia," with sudden change of tone, "it is
growing somewhat dark, and we had better leave the moulds to harden.
Shall I tell Miss Bidwell that you are ready for supper?"

To which Miss Euphemia returned an affirmative, and the whole party
trooped back to the dining