"I like minuets well enough, but I like jigs and rigadoons better; and mother will not let me wear a hoop. But I am to have her white sarcenet silk made over for me. That I know."
"You must practise on the harpsichord very much, Betty; for at Mount Vernon there is one, and brother Laurence and his wife will want you to play before company."
Mistress Betty was not averse to showing off her great accomplishment, and received this very complaisantly. Altogether, what with the letter and the white sarcenet, she began to take a hopeful rather than a despairing view of the coming two months.
GEORGE BIDS BETTY GOOD-BY, AND STARTS FOR THE FERRY.
Arrived within sight of the ferry, George stopped, and lifted Betty off the horse. There was a foot-path across the fields to the house, which made it but a short walk back, which Betty could take alone. The brother and sister gave each other one long and silent embrace—for they loved each other very dearly—and then, without a word, Betty climbed over the fence and walked rapidly homeward, while George made for the ferry, where Billy and the portmanteau awaited him. One of the small boats and two ferrymen, Yellow Dick and Sambo, took him across the river. The horse was to be carried across for George to ride to the inn where Lord Fairfax awaited him, and Billy was to take the horse back again.
The flush of the dawn was on the river when the boat pushed off, and George thought he had never seen it lovelier; but like most healthy young creatures on pleasure bent, he had no sentimental regrets. The thing he minded most was leaving Billy, because he was afraid the boy would be in constant trouble until his return. But Billy seemed to take it so debonairly that George concluded the boy had at last got over his strong disinclination to work for or think of anybody except "Marse George."
The boat shot rapidly through the water, rowed by the stalwart ferrymen, and George was soon on the opposite shore. He bade good-by to Yellow Dick and Sambo, and mounting his horse, with Billy still trotting ahead with the portmanteau, rode off through the quaint old town to the tavern. It was a long low building at the corner of two straggling streets, and signs of the impending departure of a distinguished guest were not wanting. Captain Benson, a militia officer, kept the tavern, and, in honor of the Earl of Fairfax, had donned a rusty uniform, and was going back and forth between the stable and the kitchen, first looking after his lordship's breakfast, and then after his lordship's horses' breakfasts. He came bustling out when George rode up.
"Good-morning, Mr. Washington. 'Light, sir, 'light. I understand you are going to Greenway Court with his lordship. He is now at his breakfast. Will you please to walk in?"
"No, I thank you, sir," responded George. "If you will kindly mention to Lord Fairfax that I am here, you will oblige me."