E.

Madam Wetherill made her brief explanation to show why she had ventured
to bring two dashing redcoats, in their military trappings, to the home
of the plain Quaker. James Henry looked at his nephew with many lines of
doubt in his face and evident disapprobation.

"I have planned for the last two years to come over," said the winsome
voice with the sound of glad, merry youth in it that jarred on the
sedateness of his listener. "I was waiting for a promotion, and then had
permission from the King to join General Howe. So I found him in
possession of my native city, and in short order I discovered my little
sister."

"We are men of peace," returned his uncle gravely. "William Penn founded
his colony on the cornerstones of peace and equity, and all we ask is to
live undisturbed and away from carnal pleasures and the wanton
fripperies of the world. And it pains me to see Philemon Henry's son
come among us in the habiliments of war. Still I suppose thou must do
thy duty to thy Master, the King, since thou hast strayed from thy
father's faith. There is no discipline now for children, and they follow
evil counsel as they will."

"It was my father's will rather than mine. I remember, big boy that I
was, crying many a night on shipboard for my stepmother's affection and
kisses."

"It was an error of judgment, and he hath no doubt bewailed his mistake
if it is given us to sorrow in the next world. But come in. And though
thou art of the world, worldly, there is much in kindred blood. Come in
and take welcome among us."

The keeping room was cheerful with a great fire of logs in the wide
stone chimney-place. There was a spicy fragrance of pine knots and
hemlock. In one corner Rachel Morgan sat at her spinning wheel, with a
woman's cap upon her head, and a bit of thin white muslin crossed inside
her frock at the neck; a full-fledged Quaker girl, with certain lines of
severity hardly meet for so young a face. Mother Lois sat beside the
fire knitting. She had never been quite so strong since her fever, and
Faith had a basket of woolen pieces out of which she was patching some
shapely blocks for a bed comfort.

She sprang up with a face full of joy. The summers were not so bad, but
she dreaded the long, dreary winters when she had to stay indoors and
sew and spin, with none of her own years to speak with.

"Oh, Primrose! And is it really thy brother? What a pretty habit thou
hast with all the fur, and the hat makes a pi