terview. And he is her shadow."

"Then I should have no chance of seeing her," the young man said
disappointedly.

"Nay. I think Cousin Phil nobler than to hold a grudge when so many
grudges have been swept away. I find him companionable in many respects.
He was in quite ill-health when he first came, but improves daily."

"He was like an elder brother to me always, and it was a sore pang to
offend him. But I came to see matters in a new light. And I wonder how
it was his sweet little sister did not convert him? She was always so
courageous and charming, a most fascinating little rebel in her
childhood. I should have adored such a sister. Indeed, if I had
possessed one at home I should never have crossed the ocean."

Andrew repeated part of this conversation to Primrose. He had been
impressed with the young man's patriotism.

"Oh, you know, in a certain way, he was _my_ soldier," she said with her
sunniest smile. "And now I must see him. How will we plan it? For Phil
is a little proud and a good deal obstinate. Polly would know how to
bring it about, she has such a keen wit. And Allin would like him, I
know. Polly shall give you an invitation for him at her next dance. And
you must come, even if you do not dance."

Andrew gave an odd, half-assenting look. It was as Rachel had said long
ago; in most things she wound him around her finger.

But at the first opportunity she put the subject cunningly to Philemon.

"What became of that old friend of yours, who changed your colors for
mine, and went to fight my battles?" she asked gayly, one day, when they
had stopped reading a thin old book of poems by one George Herbert.

"My friend? Oh, do you mean young Vane? I have often wondered. He went
to Virginia--I think I told you. It was a great piece of folly, when
there was a home for him in England."

"But if his heart was with us!" she remarked prettily with her soft
winsomeness. "Art thou very angry with him?" and her beautiful eyes wore
an appealing glance.

"Primrose, when you want to subdue the enemy utterly, use 'thee' and
'thou.' No man's heart could stand against such witchery. Thou wilt be a
sad coquette later on."

She laughed then at his attempt. There was always a little dimple in her
chin, and when she laughed one deepened in her cheek.

"Surely I am spoiled with flattery. I should be vainer than a peacock.
But that is not answering my question. I wonder how much thou hast of
the Henry malice."

"W