“But next week!” I repeated, with a blank face. “Surely you cannot be ready for the Annapolis!”
“McAndrews has instructions to send our things after,” said she. “There! You are the first person I have told. You should feel honoured, sir.”
I sat down upon the grass by the brook, and for the moment the sap of life seemed to have left me. Dolly continued to twine the flowers. Through the trees sifted the voices and the music, sounds of happiness far away. When I looked up again, she was gazing into the water.
“Are you glad to go?” I asked.
“Of course,” answered the minx, readily. “I shall see the world, and meet people of consequence.”
“So you are going to England to meet people of consequence!” I cried bitterly.
“How provincial you are, Richard! What people of consequence have we here? The Governor and the honourable members of his Council, forsooth! There is not a title save his Excellency's in our whole colony, and Virginia is scarce better provided.”
“In spite of my feeling I was fain to laugh at this, knowing well that she had culled it all from little Mr. Marmaduke himself.
“All in good time,” said I. “We shall have no lack of noted men presently.”
“Mere two-penny heroes,” she retorted. “I know your great men, such as Mr. Henry and Dr. Franklin and Mr. Adams.”