Emlyn setting her teeth. "Never. The Prince will soon
make an end of the rebels, and then I shall ride-a-cock horse with our
regiment again! I shall laugh to see the canting rogues run!"

But the first thing Steadfast heard the next day was that the royal
standard had come down from the Cathedral tower. He had gone up to
Elmwood to get some provisions, and Tom Oates, who spent most of his
time in gazing from the steeple, assured him that if he would come up,
he would see for himself that the flags were changed. Indeed some of the
foot soldiers who had been quartered in the village to guard the roads
had brought the certain tidings that the city had surrendered and that
the malignants, as they called the Royalists, were to march out that
afternoon, by the same road as that by which the parliamentary army had
gone out two years before.

This would be the only chance for Emlyn to rejoin her father or to
learn his fate. The little thing was wild with excitement at the news.
Disdainfully she tore off what she called Rusha's Puritan rags, though
as that offended maiden answered "her own were _real_ rags in spite
of all the pains Patience had taken with them. Nothing would make them
tidy," and Rusha pointed to a hopeless stain and to the frayed edges
past mending.

"I hate tidiness. Only Puritan rebels are tidy!"

"We are not Puritans!" cried Rusha.

Emlyn laughed. "Hark at your names," she said. "And what's that great
rebel rogue of a brother of yours?"

"Oh! he is Jeph! He ran away to the wars! But Stead isn't a Puritan,"
cried Rusha, growing more earnest. "He always goes to church--real
church down in Bristol. And poor father was churchmartin, and knew all
the parson's secrets."

"Hush, Rusha," said Patience, not much liking this disclosure, however
Jerusha might have come by the knowledge, "you and Emlyn don't want to
quarrel when she is just going to say good-bye!"

This touched the little girls. Rusha had been much enlivened by the
little fairy who had seen so much of the world, and had much more
playfulness than the hard-worked little woodland maid; and Emlyn, who
in spite of her airs, knew that she had been kindly treated, was drawn
towards a companion of her own age, was very fond of little Ben, and
still more so of Steadfast.

Ben cried, "Em not go;" and Rusha held her hand and begged her not to
forget.

"O no, I won't forget you," said Emlyn, "and when we come back with the
King and Prince, and drive th