Enough conversation reached me to disclose a promised display of fireworks on the lawn, and almost immediately, a magnificent bouquet of rockets shot up into the black sky, illuminating everything with a glare of fire. This was followed by the lighting up of the triumphal arch, and the bursting of balloons high overhead. Attracted by the spectacle, I was staring out at the dazzling scene, when a voice spoke at my shoulder.
"'Tis a relief to see even one soldier present ready for duty."
I turned to look into a pair of steady blue eyes, with a bit of mocking laughter in their depths, the face revealed clearly in the glare of the rockets.
"Necessity only," I managed to reply. "I can be as gorgeous as these others, had I brought a bag with me."
"No doubt; every British regiment tries to outdo the others in ribbons, and gold lace. Really they become tiresome with such foppery in war times. See how they play to-night, like children, the city practically unguarded from attack," she waved an ungloved hand toward the dark without. "I venture there are men out yonder, sir, who are not dancing and laughing away these hours."
My cheeks burned.
"You mean Washington's troops?"
"Aye! I saw them here in Philadelphia before Sir William came," her voice lowered, yet earnest, "and they are not playing at war; grim, silent, sober-faced men, dressed in odds and ends, not pretty to look at; some tattered and hungry, but they fight hard. Mr. Conway was telling us yesterday of how they suffered all winter long, while we danced and feasted here, Washington himself sleeping with the snow drifting over him. You do not know the Americans, for you are not long across the water, but they are not the kind to be conquered by such child's play as this."
"By birth, yes," unhesitatingly. "We are of those loyal to the King, but—I admire men."