consider anything, for the next day brought a
tax on their sympathies. Primrose remembered a long ago winter when Miss
Betty Randolph had come from Virginia to get some city accomplishments,
and flashed in and out of the great house and gone to parties, and had
been the envy of Anabella Morris. She had married shortly after and had
two babies. And now her father's farm had been despoiled and he rendered
homeless, her husband had been killed in battle, and they had made their
way northward, hoping to find a friend in Madam Wetherill.

Nor were they mistaken. There were the two elderly people, Betty and her
babies, and a younger sister. The only son was in General Greene's army.

"There is plenty of room at the farm," said Madam Wetherill. "I am not
as young as I used to be and it gets a greater care year by year, and I
think I grow fonder of the city. It would be well to have someone there
all the time, and Cousin Randolph understands farming."

"And this is the shy little yellow-haired Primrose, grown up into a
pretty girl," Betty said in surprise. "I remember you were full of those
quaint Quaker 'thees and thous.' But certainly you are a Quaker no
longer, with that becoming attire? Oh, child, be glad you have not
supped sorrow's bitter cup."

There was so much on hand getting them settled that Primrose could not
go to Uncle Henry's with her blessed news at once. It was always pain as
well as pleasure. Sometimes she could hardly find a free moment with
Aunt Lois, so jealously did Rachel watch them. And though Primrose had
planned talks with Uncle James they invariably came to nought, for she
could never surprise him alone, and he was so hard of hearing she knew
there would be listeners.

Faith was upstairs spinning on the big wheel, and her window overlooked
the stretch of woods that shut out the road altogether. Aunt Lois sat
knitting, Rachel was making some stout homespun shirts for winter wear,
and Uncle James was lying on the bed asleep.

"Thou hast something else in thy face," began Aunt Lois presently, when
Primrose had recounted the misfortunes of the Randolphs and the shelter
that had opened before them. "Hast thou heard from----"

"I have seen him!" Primrose clasped both hands and the knitting fell to
the floor.

"Seen him! Oh, child! Hath he been here?"

Her voice quavered and her eyes filled with tears.

Rachel picked up the knitting with a frown. The needle had slipped out
half-way.

"Thou migh