s, and two men were hanged for high
treason, both Quakers, one of whom had enlisted in Howe's army, and the
other was accused of numerous crimes. Many had to choose between exile,
or contempt that was ostracism at home. Dr. Duche had in the darkest
period written a letter to General Washington beseeching him to submit
to any proffer of peace that England might hold out, having lost his
ardent patriotism, and he went to his old home to meet with charges of
disloyalty there.

But people began to take heart a little, to clear up their wasted
gardens and fields and repair their houses. Some of the pleasure haunts
were opened again, and women ventured on their afternoon walks on the
streets, well protected, to be sure. There was, too, a certain amount of
gayety, tea-drinking and cards, and excursions up the river were well
patronized.

Andrew Henry, now sergeant, was detailed for a while among the troops to
remain in Philadelphia. Now that he had embarked in the war he preferred
a more active life, and it was too near his old home to be satisfactory.
But as soon as possible he reported to Madam Wetherill.

"I can never thank thee sufficiently for thy assistance and quick wit,"
he said to her. "Through it I escaped without harm, but I found
afterward they had more proof than I could have safely met. And when I
arrived at camp I dispatched a messenger to my father, telling him of my
changed mind and plans for the future."

"And he was angry enough!" interposed Madam Wetherill.

"It was worse than that. Mere anger is, perhaps, outlived. He had some
other plans," and the young Quaker flushed. "He gave me a fortnight to
return, and, if not, would put Penn in my place and I need expect
nothing more."

"See what thy talk hath led to, Primrose! For I was afraid thy patriotic
rebellion was contagious."

Andrew smiled down on the child. "She hath been a wise little one, and I
am not sorry to be her soldier. With women like you, madam, to bring up
girls, and Lady Washington to care for disheartened soldiers, there will
be still greater victories, and there can be but one end."

Primrose looked up with an enchanting smile. "I am proud of thee," she
made answer with an exultant ring in her voice. "And there is Polly
Wharton's brother who ran over me on the ice, and--my own brother that I
pray may come around."

"I feel very much as if I had been on both sides of the fence," remarked
Madam Wetherill. "Still I could not have hel