Then they talked long and earnestly. Andrew Henry was coming home, and the matter would be settled.
And settled it was speedily. Andrew, having been consulted before, was not so much taken by surprise, but his gratitude was none the less fervent. And one Sunday morning Polly walked very proudly up the aisle in Christ Church, with her brother on one side, and her lover on the other, right behind her parents, and when they were seated in Mr. Wharton's pew, Polly was in the middle with her lover beside her, and he found the places in her prayer book and made responses with her and sang joyfully in the hymns. Coming out she took his arm, and blushed a good deal as people smiled at her. It was a fashion then, and everybody knew it was a sign of engagement.
"The young Englishman is very good-looking," said Miss Morris, "but I shall set my cap for the Quaker cousin. What a pity he gives up war and discards soldier clothes, for there is scarcely such a fine-appearing general!"
The young Quaker, mature and manly for his years, took hold of business as if it had been his birthright. Perhaps it had come to him with the resemblance to his uncle. And when Philemon Nevitt decided to take back his father's name, Polly and Primrose rejoiced wildly.
Primrose threw her arms around his neck and gave him many of the kisses she had used to be so chary about.
"Now you are my own dear brother!" she exclaimed, and the satisfaction rang through her voice like a bell. "No king can ever claim you again."
"Unless we have a king."
"But we are not going to have a king. We are all born free and equal."
"Julius and Joe and the old Pepper Pot woman, and the Calamus boys?" with a mischievous smile.
"The slaves are all going to be free. We cannot do everything in a moment. And the equality——" Primrose was rather nonplused.