He was pleasant enough, though—and here Uzal's lips thinned fanatically—he should be restrained, of course. And Sally, warm-hearted, impetuous, was only to blame as a friendly little kitten might be blamed, not sternly, certainly not punished.
So, as they plodded through Morris Town on horseback, with the rain beating down upon them, Uzal was careful to converse lightly, to point out all the places of interest. That was Parson Johnnes's house—yes, that fine-looking one—and there the orchard where he had held services for the soldiers outdoors behind his house while his church was being used as a hospital for their fellows. And here was the home o' Parson Johnnes's daughter, now Mistress. Theodocia Ford, the widow o' that wonderful officer Colonel Jacob Ford. All the winter of 1777, General Washington's bodyguard had been stationed in her mansion, fairly near to the Arnold Tavern.
Sally raised her somber glance to the Ford mansion as they passed it. It was a fine big house, typical of that period with its great chimneys upon each end and its wide center door indicative of the wide central hallway inside. It stood upon an eminence with beautiful grounds surrounding it.
But Sally's glance did not linger. Once more she fell to picturing poor Jerry lying upon a pallet, upon the floor of the Presbyterian church; and she neither noticed nor cared what Uzal was say-
