“You see if I can’t make a case of it,” urged Bagby.  “I’ve come out a great hand at tieing the facts up in such a snarl as no judge or jury can get them straight again, and this time the jury will be with us before we begin.  You see old Hennion’s been putting the screws on his tenants tight as he can twist them, and glad enough they ’d be if they could only have you again, ’stead of him.  The whole country’s so down on him that I’ve been planning to prevent his being re-elected to Assembly this spring.  Now, you know, as well as I, what I would like, and I guess you won’t be so set against it now, for I’ve got nigh to twenty thousand pounds specie, laid out in all sorts of ventures, so even if we don’t get Greenwood, I’ll be all the better match, but we won’t say nothing about all that till we’ve seen what comes.”

“Nay, Mr. Bagby, I’ll not gain your aid by a deceitful silence.  I owe ye an apology for the way I treated your overture before, but I must tell you that both my own, and my girl’s word is given to Major Hennion, and so—­”

“But he’s been attainted, an’ ’ll never be able to come back here.

“Aye, and we too expect to accept exile with him.  When we left Williamsburg, we planned once we had buried our dead, to go to New York, where the two will marry, and then I shall follow them to wherever his regiment is ordered.”

“But you don’t need to go, now that General Brereton ’s persuaded the governor to pardon you,” protested Joseph, “and you—­”

“Was it Brereton did that?” demanded Mr. Meredith.

“Between you and me, squire, I’d been at Livingston ever since you was sent away, and had about won him over, when Brereton got back from Virginia and went to see him.”

“I’m glad to hear he’s willing to do me a kindness, for not once at Yorktown did he come nigh us, and so I feared me he would refuse a favour I must shortly ask of him.”

“What ’s that?”

“I’m writing to Phil Hennion, begging him to intercede with his father and get me permission to bury my wife at Greenwood.”

“You would n’t need to do no asking if you ’d only let me get the property back.”

“You ’re right, man, and if it does nothing more, we’ll perhaps frighten him into yielding us that much.”

“’T will take time, you understand, squire, and it can’t be done if you go to York or out of the country.”

“We’ll stay here as long as there ’s nothing better to do.”

“That’s the talk.  And don’t you wherrit about your lodgings, if you ’re short of cash.  I’ll fix it with Si, and chance my getting paid somehow.  I’ll see him right off, and fix it so you and Miss Janice has the best there is.”  He started to go; then asked, “I hope—­there is n’t any danger—­I suppose—­she’ll keep, eh, squire?”

The husband winced.  “Yes,” he replied huskily.  “The Marquis de Lafayette, quite unasked, ordered the commissaries to give us all we needed of a pipe of rum.”