nson, I can't say I have
anything against you; you and your friend may be welcome for me."

"Heyday!" exclaimed the old crone from the chimney corner "Who is
talking about Horse Shoe Robinson? Is this Horse Shoe? Come here, good
man," she said, beckoning with her finger to the sergeant. "Come close
and let me look at you. Galbraith Robinson, as I am a sinner! All the
way from the Waxhaws. Who'd 'a thought to find you here amongst the
Tories? Such a racketing whig as you. Heyday!"

"Whisht, granny!" said Robinson almost in a whisper. "Don't call names."

"We are all Tories here," said the old woman, heedless of the sergeant's
caution, "ever since last Thursday, when the handsome English officer
was here to see Watty, and to count out his gold like pebble-stones."

"Grandmother, you talk nonsense," said the wife.

"Old Mistress Crosby," interposed Robinson, "is as knowing as she ever
was. It's a mark of sense to be able to tell the day of the week when a
man changes his coat. But, granny, you oughtn't to talk of Wat's seeing
an English officer in his house."

"Golden guineas, honey!" continued the drivelling old woman. "All good
gold! And a proud clinking they make in Watty's homespun pocket. A
countryman's old leather bag, Galbraith Robinson, doesn't often scrape
acquaintance with the image of the king's head--ha, ha, ha! It makes me
laugh to think of it! Ha, ha, ha! Watty's nose cocked up so high too!
Who but he, the proud gander! Strutting like quality. Well, well, pride
will have a fall, some day, that's the Lord's truth. Both pockets full!"
she continued, muttering broken sentences and laughing so violently that
the tears ran down her cheeks.

"If you call Wat Adair your friend," interrupted the wife sullenly, and
addressing Robinson, "you will show your sense by keeping away from this
foolish old woman. She is continually raving with some nonsense that she
dreams of nights. You ought to see that she is only half witted. It's
sinful to encourage her talking. Grandmother, you had better go to your
bed."

"Come this way, deary," said the beldam, addressing an infant that
toddled across the floor near to her seat, at the same time extending
her shrivelled arm to receive it. "Come to the old body, pretty
darling!"

"No," lisped the child with an angry scream, and instantly made its way
towards the door.

"Then do you come to me, Peggy," she said, looking up at her
granddaughter, the mistress of the family, wh