"But it should be primroses," he said. "If we were at home in English haunts we should find them. I don't know why I say at home, for I doubt if it is ever my home again."
"I am a more hopeful exile than you," commented Betty Mason. "My country will be restored to me, and I shall never forget that you helped."
What large, soft, dark eyes she had, and a voice with a peculiar lingering cadence; but it did not go to one's heart like that of Primrose.
The sun was speeding downward. It was a long walk home. Andrew Henry headed the procession with his cousin, and Vane followed with Betty, so it was Polly who had the two attendants, and Allin was rather out of humor.
Janice Kent had a birthday supper for them, but with the treat at Larch Alley, and, perhaps, some fatigue, they were not ravenous. Primrose sang for them and was bewilderingly sweet—Andrew thought, just as the day had been, full of caprices but ending in tender beauty. And then they drank her health and wished her many happy returns, bidding her a very fervent good-night.
There had been a good deal of enthusiasm about General Washington, and many very warm friends had sympathized deeply with Mrs. Washington in her sorrow. Plans of a new campaign had also been discussed. The city was sorry to relinquish its noble guests. Society had taken on an aspect of dignified courtesy; contending parties had ceased to rail at each other, and there was a greater air of punctilious refinement, that was to settle into a grace less formal than that of the old-time Quaker breeding, but more elegant and harmonious. A new ambition woke in the heart of the citizens to beautify, adorn, and improve. There was a stir in educational circles, and the library that had languished so long was making its voice heard. Peace was about to have her victory.
Andrew Henry was closeted a long while one morning with Madam Wetherill.
"I shall go to Newburgh with the General," he said, "but if there is to be no more war I shall resign my commission. That sounds almost like a martial declaration in favor of war, but it is not so. I was not meant for a soldier except in necessity. There are those whom the life really inspires, and who would be only too glad to fill my place. I could not step out with such a clear conscience if I were a private. And since you have been good enough, madam, to ask me about plans, I must confess that I have not gone very far in any. There are, no doubt, farms around that I could hire and make profitable, but my mother no longer has the strength and energy to be at the head of such a place. I have thought something might open here in the city that would enable me to make a home for her and myself; that is my ambition now. I do not feel that I ought to leave her to the care of my Cousin Rachel while she has a son of her own. True, her home is left to her there, but she is not compelled to stay in it."
"And Rachel may marry."
"I think she will. She is a smart and capable woman, but it is hard doing all things and managing alone; though now she and Penn have made up over a little coldness. He will till Faith's land for the present. The greatest profit, the cherries, and one good orchard belongs to Rachel, so she is well to do. However, I want my dear mother with me, and by mid-summer I may return."