Again there was a laugh, and young Hungerford flushed.
“As for that,” said he, frankly enough, “I am not passing personal judgment upon General Gates. I am merely stating what I know are the opinions of men of experience. Why, General Washington himself holds him in no high esteem, for some time ago when Gates asked for a brigade, he refused to give it to him, there being others in whom he had more faith.”
Ben’s eyes followed the handsome figure of Gates and that of Tobias Hawkins; and once more the moody look came into his face.
“What can it mean?” he asked himself. “What is this man’s purpose? He has pushed himself into the good graces of a rather simple-minded merchant, and so has gained entry into the society of the city. And what I noted on the first night at this very inn has since been verified. For some reason he then was eager to know the names of those opposed to General Washington, and since then all those with whom I have seen him upon intimate terms are of that stripe. First, there was Mifflin, who is noted for his dislike of the general, then there is Conway, and now Gates.” The boy looked down the long room at the two men and his thoughts went on: “He has some reason. His desire must be to——”
Here he was interrupted by a general movement toward the room where the dinner was to be served, and he found himself paired with a dark-haired, bright-eyed girl whose English pronunciation proved her to be of French birth. At the table this young lady proved to be a most diverting companion. She knew every one and the history of every one.
“I am at great pains to acquire information,” she smilingly told Ben. “For, you see, I am keeping a journal in which I write down every scrap of intelligence. In years to come it will be a highly-prized book; even scholars will go to it when they desire a true picture of these days.”
Listening to her chatter pleased Ben Cooper, and soon all thought of Tobias Hawkins had passed out of his mind. Almost across the table from them were a number of foreigners who had come to America in search of military preferment. One of these was manifestly of German extraction, a grave-faced man of middle age; another was a handsome lad of about Ben’s own years. The latter was laughing gaily with those near him and talking in English, but with a decided French accent.
“That,” said Ben, “is a countryman of yours.”
His companion shrugged her shoulders, helplessly.
“One sees so many countrymen of mine these days, that it might be thought Congress intended to officer the American army from France,” she said. “And some of them—oh, what preposterous fellows they are! So much pretense, so much vainglory. It is really ridiculous.”