the waffle iron, greased it, poured in more batter, and, snapping the cover, replaced the iron in the fire, seemingly all with one swift motion. Then candles flickered as the door opened and closed and Master Williams stood before it. His tired, worried face brightened as he took in the cheerful picture—Zenas and Sally chatting and eating at the table, his wife upon her low stool, watching with such an intent gaze the waffle iron! He took off his hat slowly, came forward to kiss his wife, and to place, for an instant, a fatherly hand upon Zenas's shoulder.
"How now, my lad?" he said affectionately' smiling across the table at Sally, "didst have a successful journey to the Town by the River? Mother said ye were going wi' Sally. Ye ha' much to tell us o' the battle and all, this even, I make no doubt."
Involuntarily, the eyes of the girl and the boy met across their now empty waffle plates. "Aye, sir—there be much o' interest to narrate," answered Zenas respectfully, then. But Sally, her gaze dropping to the jagged rents in sleeve and skirt, knew that one interesting incident would not be told.
Master Williams seated himself upon the settle and sighed as he passed his hand across his brow. "Bad news, wife," he muttered. "The battle still rages to the north o' Newark, for the militia are determined that the British shall not pass beyond.
