gala time surely. The flags floated for days, and
everyone wore a kind of triumphant aspect. That her own ship, built with
so much native work and equipments, should be the first to which a
British frigate should strike her colors was indeed a triumph. Though
there were not wanting voices across the sea to say the _Guerriere_
should have gone down with flying colors, but even that would have been
impossible.

Miss Recompense and Uncle Winthrop began to discuss Revolutionary times,
and Doris listened with a great deal of interest. She delighted to
identify herself strongly with her adopted country, and in her secret
heart she was proud of Cary, though she could not be quite sure he was
right in the step he had taken. They missed him so much. She tried in
many ways to make up the loss, and her devotion went to her uncle's
heart.

If they could only hear! Not to know where he was seemed so hard to
bear.

CHAPTER XX

A VISITOR FOR DORIS

Doris was in the little still-room, as it was called--a large sort of
pantry shelved on one side, and with numerous drawers and a kind of
dresser with glass doors on another. By the window there were a table
and the dainty little still where Miss Recompense made perfumes and
extracts. There were boxes of sweet herbs, useful ones, bottles of
medicinal cordials and salves. Miss Recompense was a "master hand" at
such things, and the neighbors around thought her as good as a doctor.

It was so fragrant in this little room that Doris always had a vague
impression of a beautiful country. She had a kind of poetical
temperament, and she hoped some day to be able to write verses. Helen
Chapman had written a pretty song for a friend's birthday and had it set
to music. The quartette sang it so well that the leading paper had
praised it. There was no one she could confess her secret ambition to,
but if she ever _did_ achieve anything she would confide in Uncle
Winthrop. So she sat here with all manner of vague, delightful ideas
floating through her brain, steeped with the fragrance of balms and
odors.

"Please, 'm," and Dinah stood in the door in all the glory of her gay
afternoon turban, which seemed to make her face more black and
shining--"Please, 'm, dere's a young sojer man jus' come. He got a
bundle an' he say he got strict d'rections to gib it to missy. An'
here's de ticket."

"Oh, for me!" Doris took it eagerly and read aloud, "Lieutenant E. D.
Hawthorne." "Oh, Miss Recompe