cap had the
narrow plain border of that denomination.

Mr. Underhill made a brief explanation of his antecedents, and his
removal to the city,--then mentioned hearing of them from Mr. Brockner.

"You are very good to hunt us up," she said, with a touching tremble in
her voice. "I don't think now I could tell anything about my father's
relatives. He was killed at the battle of Harlem Heights, and my only
brother was taken prisoner. The Ferrises, my mother's people, owned a
great farm here-about. But much of it was laid waste, and a little later
the old homestead burned down. This house was built for us before the
British evacuated the city. My brother had died in prison of a fever,
and there were only my mother and us two girls."

Hanny was sitting quite close by her. She reached over and took the
wrinkled hand gently.

"Do you mean you were alive then--a little girl in the Revolutionary
War?" she exclaimed in breathless surprise.

"Why, I was nine years old," and she gave a faded little smile. "I doubt
if you're more than that."

"I am a little past eight," said Hanny.

"And the battle was just over yonder," nodding her head. "We all hoped
so that General Washington would win. My father was very patriotic and
very much in earnest for the independence of the country. The armies
were separated by Harlem Plains, and General Howe pushed forward through
McGowan's Pass, the rocky gorge over yonder. But our men forced them
into the cleared field, and if it had not been for a troop of Hessians
they would have driven the British off the field. But I believe
Washington thought it best to retreat. I've heard it was almost a
victory, still it wasn't quite. But we were wild with apprehension, for
we could hear the noise and the firing. And then the awful word came
that father was killed."

"Oh!" cried the little girl, and she laid her soft cheek on the wrinkled
hand. What if she had been alive then!--and she looked over at _her_
father with tears in her eyes.

"It was a sad, sad time. Some of the Ferrises were on the King's side.
You know a great many people believed the rebels all wrong and said they
never could win. My Uncle Ferris was bitterly opposed to father's
espousing the Federalists' cause."

"But you didn't want England to win, did you?" inquired the little girl,
wide-eyed.

"We were so full of trouble. Mother was very bitter, I remember, and
folks called her a Tory. Then brother, who was only seventeen, was