t very near to her eyes,
and made a wry face of impatience. Then she held the sheet out to Mr.
Riddle.

"A pretty piece of news," she said languidly. "Read it, Harry."

The gentleman seized her hand instead. The lady glanced at the
clergyman, whose back was turned, and shook her head.

"How tiresome you are!" she said.

"What's happened?" asked Mr. Riddle, letting go as the parson looked
around.

"Oh, they've had a battle," said the lady, "and Moultrie and his Rebels
have beat off the King's fleet."

"The devil they have!" exclaimed Mr. Riddle, while the parson started
forwards. "Anything more?"

"Yes, a little." She hesitated. "That husband of mine has fled
Charlestown. They think he went to the fleet." And she shot a meaning
look at Mr. Riddle, who in turn flushed red. I was watching them.

"What!" cried the clergyman, "John Temple has run away?"

"Why not," said Mr. Riddle. "One can't live between wind and water long.
And Charlestown's--uncomfortable in summer."

At that the clergyman cast one look at them--such a look as I shall
never forget--and went into the house.

"Mamma," said the boy, "where has father gone? Has he run away?"

"Yes. Don't bother me, Nick."

"I don't believe it," cried Nick, his high voice shaking. "I'd--I'd
disown him."

At that Mr. Riddle burst into a hearty laugh.

"Come, Nick," said he, "it isn't so bad as that. Your father's for his
Majesty, like the rest of us. He's merely gone over to fight for him."
And he looked at the lady and laughed again. But I liked the boy.

As for the lady, she curled her lip. "Mr. Riddle, don't be foolish," she
said. "If we are to play, send your horse to the stables." Suddenly her
eye lighted on me. "One more brat," she sighed. "Nick, take him to the
nursery, or the stable. And both of you keep out of my sight."

Nick strode up to me.

"Don't mind her. She's always saying, 'Keep out of my sight.'" His voice
trembled. He took me by the sleeve and began pulling me around the house
and into a little summer bower that stood there; for he had a masterful
manner.

"What's your name?" he demanded.

"David Trimble," I said.

"Have you seen my father in town?"

The intense earnestness of the question surprised an answer out of me.

"Yes."

"Where?" he demanded.

"In his house. My father left me with your father."

"Tell me about it."

I related as much as I dared, leaving out Mr. Temple's double dealing;
which, in truth, I did not u