Rachel Morgan stared at the vision before her. An unwonted envy stirred her. It seemed as if Faith grew plainer every day, and this girl took all the beauty!
"How are they all at the farm?" Primrose inquired with pretty graciousness. "Is Uncle James quite well and strong?"
"How could one be well with such a great sorrow?" the visitor asked sternly, fixing her eyes on Primrose, who shrank from the hard gaze, and felt her heart beat in strange protest.
"But—Andrew is well—is here——"
"We heard a part of the army had been retained, and a neighbor hath seen Andrew Henry in the attire of the sons of cruelty and worldliness, and that bitter spirit toward the law that Mr. Penn besought his brethren not to use. But no one seems to heed duty or obedience any more."
Primrose stood gazing as if the voice held her in a half-frightened thrall.
"He hath been here, in this house?"
"Yes, yesterday," with some hesitation.
"And he will come again?"
"Oh, yes!" There was a confident ring in her voice that angered the other.