heir
hair well powdered, their tri-cornered hats matching their vivid coats.
They rode fine, spirited horses, and they knew how to ride, for most of
them had seen service under General Washington. Some of the ladies also
rode, but more of them came in open carriages. These latter wore
flowered satins, and carried painted fans and sunshades. Some came
across fields on foot, a young gallant swinging a light gold-headed
cane, and paying lavish compliments to the fair girl whose dimples were
heightened by small beauty patches cut in stars or crescents.

The gay throng wound up the long drive of Otsego Hall, themselves
scarcely less brilliant than the flowers beside the path. At the top of
the drive was the big, white colonial mansion, with its high storied
porch and great white pillars. On the porch stood the genial host in a
buff-colored suit with knee-breeches, his kindly face radiating welcome
to each guest. The riders sprang from their saddles and threw the
bridles to the waiting servants, the chaises and the chariots emptied
their owners and were whisked away. All mounted the wide steps, greeted
Mr. Cooper, and passed across the porch into the polished hall.

Here stood a large round table with a huge punchbowl in the centre and a
ring of shining glasses about it. Each guest toasted the fair lady of
the manor, and some particular lady of his own fancy, with such charming
sentiments as his wit supplied. There was a great buzz of talk and
laughter and neighborly greeting.

Presently three young men, all dressed in the height of fashion, came up
the driveway and shook hands with Mr. Cooper. He was especially glad to
see them, for they were sons of men he had known in war times. All three
came of wealthy families living in the city of New York, and were now
traveling north to learn something of the business possibilities of the
young country. They stopped for a moment to chat with Mr. Cooper, and
then two of them entered the hall. The third was looking at a small boy,
who, dressed like Mr. Cooper in buff clothes, stood at one side of the
porch.

"Who is the youngster?" asked the visitor.

Mr. Cooper turned about to see. "Oh, that's my son James." He beckoned
to the boy. "Come here, son. I want you to meet Captain Philip Kent, one
of father's old friends."

The boy, not at all abashed, put out his hand, and welcomed Captain
Kent. "Have you ever fought Indians?" he asked solemnly.

Kent laughed and winked at Mr. Coop