"Stay behind me, Agnes," Fred warned her; "there might be a deer running out from behind the brush that I might shoot."
"Do not shoot on such a beautiful night," the girl pleaded; "everything is so peaceful, and the poor animals ought to enjoy their life, too, and not always be in danger of being killed by men, beasts, and Indians."
"You are a little Samaritan," Fred laughed, "and a poet, too; well, if
I don't see anything, I won't shoot."
But nothing came in sight, and so within half an hour the children were rapping at the door of the Governor's home. Here they were kindly, received by the Governor and his wife, who urged them at once to lay off their wraps and make themselves at home.
"We do not care to stay this evening, kind sir," Fred said; "for at home father and mother are waiting for Matthew."
He handed the Governor the note, which he took and read.
"I see," he said; "so your father has declared his willingness to adopt Matthew. That is very fine of him. I shall see him tomorrow and draw up the papers."
"Where is Matthew now?" Agnes asked a little impatiently.
"He is at the home of the Reverend Mr. Davenport," Mr. Winthrop said; "the good parson wanted to examine him with respect to his religious opinions. But I trow they will be back soon, for they left quite a time ago."
Fortunately the children did not have to wait long for Matthew, who with the Governor's son John had gone to the pastor's manse. In the meanwhile Mrs. Winthrop regaled them with baked apples and sweet cider.