Washington paid no attention to the attitude of Mifflin; to Cadwallader he replied:
“It is more than likely that there will be a clash in a day or two that will put a decided point upon the affairs of the states; and if it’s fighting you seek, general,” with a smile, “I think we can please you.”
“I could not get across the river to be of assistance to you a week ago,” said Cadwallader, “and have since been prevented by lack of enemies from being of service. Pennsylvania wants her troops in action, and I am only too eager to try them under fire in an engagement of consequence.”
There was a great deal passed upon both sides; but through it all General Mifflin said nothing, sitting coldly erect with a face of stony indifference. At length General Washington noticed the lad in the doorway, his hand still raised in the gesture of salute.
“Ah, Cooper,” said he, concerned; “I had let you slip my mind. Pomroy just now told me that you had returned.” Then, leaning over his table, eagerly, “What letters do you bring me?”
“None, sir,” replied the boy. “Master Morris bade me tell you what he had to say.”
A shadow crossed the grave face of the commander-in-chief; evidently this, to his mind, promised no good.
“Go on,” he said.
“I told Master Morris that I should reach camp by sundown to-day; and he said that I was to inform you that, by then, a swift carriage would be on its way, bearing fifty thousand dollars for the use of the army.”
The cloud passed from General Washington’s face like magic; a look of great satisfaction replaced it.