ed for
her wit and vivacity; Miss Wharton and Miss Mifflin and the gay Mrs.
Penn.

"I have brought thee a new recruit, Friend Norris," she began smilingly,
"since thou art of the same faith and texture. Thy father knew Philemon
Henry well, and this is his nephew. Ladies, let me present Friend Henry,
since the Quakers will have no handle to their names. Perhaps many of
you know Cherry Hill, from whence some of our finest fruit is brought."

The ladies courtesied. Mrs. Penn stepped nearer.

"Yes, I knew thy uncle somewhat and had met his lovely wife, who lives
again in the little fairy she left behind. It must have broken her heart
to go."

Young Norris came around. Andrew Henry had blushed furiously under the
scrutiny of so many lovely eyes, and then, recovering, stood his ground
manfully. The scene affected him something as if he had been drinking
wine, and yet the impression was delightful.

"He has come to take our little moppet away. She belongs part of the
time to her uncle."

"Oh, Madam Wetherill," exclaimed Miss Franks, "put her best gown on Miss
Bella and send her by mistake. Wait until dusk and no one will ever
know."

"Not even in the morning?" asked Andrew with a touch of merriment, while
the others laughed.

"Nay, the best gown is not needed if you want to pass off someone in
her stead," said Norris. "That would be suspected at once. Plan again."

"Oh, I forgot! Little Miss Bella hath so much pretty attire. I do
suppose she would be astray in a Quaker frock. Well, what can we do? Mr.
Henry, we shall outwit thee, never fear."

"Madam Wetherill hath refused me already," he answered. "But she was
merciful."

"And I brought him hither for consolation. An old woman's refusal cannot
be so heart-breaking as that of a young lass."

"But we have had no chance to refuse," said saucy Miss Mifflin, raising
her coquettish eyes.

"Cherry hill is a large estate, but somewhat out of the way. I have
ridden by it," said Norris. "We of the town get spoiled by neighbors. It
must be dreary in the winter."

"The evenings are lonesome. In summer, what with being up at sunrise and
busy all day, the nights are welcome, but in winter the city hath a
deeper interest. Although I have so far been content."

"We are in a curious heat now. Our staid town never saw such a ferment.
Every day we wait for news from some of the provinces, north or south. I
suppose thou wilt take little heed to it. Yet we number many of the