e did with such consummate
slighting of his own part in the campaign that I interrupted him in great
indignation, and, unheeding his protests, related some of the things
concerning him which I have already written, and which, I swear, were
very well received.

"But Lieutenant Stewart says nothing of what he himself did," cried
Washington, when I had finished.

"Because I did nothing worth relating," I retorted, my cheeks hot with
embarrassment at the way they looked at me.

"Ask him how he won that sword he wears at his side," he continued, not
heeding my interruption, his eyes twinkling at my discomfiture. "Believe
me, 'tis not many Virginia officers can boast such a fine one."

And then, of course, they all demanded that he tell the story, which he
did with an exaggeration that I considered little less than shameful.
In some mysterious manner, tankards of cold, bitter Dutch beer, the
kind that is so refreshing after a journey or at the close of a hot
day's work, had found their way into the right hand of every man
present, and as Washington ended the story and I was yet denying, our
host sprang to his feet.

"We'll drink to the troops of Maryland and Virginia," he cried, "who
behaved like soldiers and died like men, teaching England's redcoats a
lesson they will not soon forget, and to two of the bravest among them,
Colonel Washington and Lieutenant Stewart!"

It was done with a cheer that made the old hall ring, and when, half an
hour later, I found myself beside the prettiest of the three daughters of
the house, I was not yet quite recovered. Only this I can say,--it is a
pleasant thing to be a hero, though trying to the nerves. I had only the
one experience, and did not merit that, as the reader has doubtless
decided for himself.

Of course there was a dance,--what merrymaking would be complete without
one?--and Colonel Washington walked a minuet with a certain Mistress
Patience Burd, with a grace which excited the admiration of every swain
in the room, and the envy of not a few,--myself among the number, for I
was ever but a clumsy dancer, and on this occasion no doubt greatly vexed
my pretty partner. But every night must end, as this one did at last.
Colonel Washington was much better next morning, for his illness had been
more of the mind than of the body, and our kind reception had done
wonders to banish his vexation. Our friends bade us Godspeed, and we rode
on our way southward. I never saw the house