Friends on our side."

"I have not paid much attention to what has gone before, I must admit,
but one day I heard some speeches at Carpenter's."

"Nay, you are not to talk war to Friend Henry. He will take us for a
party of savages. Is there no more inviting topic?"

They found one that was full of light, harmless jest, and an hour
passed so quickly that Andrew Henry was startled.

He rode home alone without seeing Primrose, who could not be found in
the nearby haunts. And for the first time strange visions, strange
longings filled his mind, as if he had suddenly come to manhood and
outgrown the bands that had made his way so strait.

Was it some suggestion of the tempter? All the strong virile blood
rushed through his veins, and he only made a feeble fight to subdue it.
He did not really want to put it aside.

It was much later than usual when he reached home. In fact the sun had
gone down, Julius with the great market wagon had been home hours
before.

"Son, what delayed thee so? And the child--where is she?" asked his
mother.

He explained that she had gone off with her companion and that he had
waited; that Madam Wetherill would bring her up in a day or two. Rachel
sat on the doorstep knitting, and some supper was spread in the living
room. But he went in to his father first, and, after a few words about
Primrose, gave an account of his day's doings, except a little loitering
to hear the talk. And he took from his pocket the leathern pouch tied
tightly with a string, pouring the money on the bed and counting it over
for his father. Then he brought out a curious box much ornamented with
copper, now black by age except at the sides where it had been handled,
and, unlocking it, put in the money, giving the key back to his father.

"You think Friend Wetherill is quite honest about the child?" he asked
feverishly.

"She is not one to place a light value on her own word. The child could
hardly have been gotten ready in that brief while."

"There was nothing to get," rather fretfully. "We do not want the vain
clothing of the world. The child will be ruined by vanity."

"She keeps very sweet, methinks."

"How canst thou judge? Thy mother hath more wisdom and may tell another
story. There, get to supper. It is weary lying here, but the Lord's ways
are not as ours."

Andrew ate a little supper in the plain, bare room. On the green where
the ladies had sat was a strong cherry table, containing some plates and