The eyes of Harper dropped quietly on the pages of the volume in his hand, while Frances, rising, came forward with a smile in her face, as she inquired, in a tone of affability that the peddler had never witnessed from her,—
“Have you more of the lace, Mr. Birch?”
The desired article was immediately produced, and Frances became a purchaser also. By her order a glass of liquor was offered to the trader, who took it with thanks, and having paid his compliments to the master of the house and the ladies, drank the beverage.
“So, it is thought that Colonel Tarleton has worsted General Sumter?” said Mr. Wharton, affecting to be employed in mending the cup that was broken by the eagerness of his sister-in-law.
“I believe they think so at Morrisania,” said Birch, dryly.
“Have you any other news, friend?” asked Captain Wharton, venturing to thrust his face without the curtains.
“Have you heard that Major André has been hanged?”
Captain Wharton started, and for a moment glances of great significance were exchanged between him and the trader, when he observed, with affected indifference, “That must have been some weeks ago.”
“Does his execution make much noise?” asked the father, striving to make the broken china unite.
“People will talk, you know, ’squire.”