After leaving Miss Quincy, Berinthia lifted the knocker of the Newville mansion, not to ask Ruth to sign the agreement; she could not do that, for Mr. Newville was a Tory, and the signers were daughters of patriots.
“How good it is to see you once more. It is a very long time since I have looked upon your face,” Ruth exclaimed, embracing her.
“The snow has been so deep and I have had so much to do, I have not found time to call till now, and I don’t know as I should be here to-day only I am spinning street-yarn for a particular purpose.”
Ruth was at a loss to understand her.
“I am calling on my acquaintances, and I was not quite sure whether I ought to skip you or not.”
“Skip me! What have I done that you should think of dropping me from your acquaintance?”
Berinthia saw a wondering and injured look in the loving eyes.
“Oh, you haven’t done anything; it is what the king, Lord North, and Parliament are doing. They intend to make us pay taxes against our will, and we girls are signing an agreement not to drink any more tea, and I am calling on my friends for that purpose.”
The look of wonder and grief disappeared, and Ruth’s face brightened once more. She read the agreement and the list of names.