ing. What was it all about, she asked herself again? Her best friend dying without friends and poorly cared for, and a Tory spy shot before her eyes!
It was a long, tiresome trip back to the Mountain. The rain did not add to the travelers' comfort, and even the horses ambled along, mile after mile, in a discouraged manner. Uzal, never talkative at best, soon gave up his concerned efforts to arouse and interest Sally, and sank into a silence as deep as her own.
At last the gleam of candelight through his own windows drew an exclamation from him. Pointing to a couple of horses tied to the walnut tree in front of the house, he spoke: "There must be visitors here, Sally, so come, arouse yourself. Let them not see ye wi' the megrims, thus!"
"Aye, Uzal!" Sally sighed forlornly, slipped cheerlessly down her horse's side. But when she entered the kitchen door and saw the visitors gathered around Mistress Ball's supper table, her expression of gloom lifted and she went forward almost with her own happy air. "Why, Parson Chapman, 'tis you! And you, Mistress Van Houten!" She curtseyed in surprise to the latter.
"Good-even, Sally!" said Mistress Van Houten kindly.
Parson Chapman held out his hand to the girl, who placed her own shyly within it. "Sally," he
