WASHINGTON.
(to himself, as he bends over his chart).
'Tis not so easy as Little Hunting Creek!
RED ROWAN
(approaching him).
Nothing is easy in the wilderness!
WASHINGTON
(starting up, gazing at her, and then brushing his hand across his eyes).
I thought I was studying before the fire; but instead I've been dreaming . . . dreaming!
RED ROWAN
(shaking her head).
No dream! Only a woodsman's daughter. You can hear my father yonder, felling oaks. I saw the glimmer of your fire and came.
WASHINGTON.
(with a boyish courtesy and shyness).
Will you—will you not be seated?