It would seem that the knowledge Maid Sally now carried under the burning gold of her thick tresses was making a woman of her.

Very gay and glad at heart was she, for, had not the dearest dream of her life come true? She was a high-born damsel, and—could it be true?—the blood of her Fairy Prince was also in her veins.

But instead of being filled with foolish pride because of these things, she said wisely to herself:

"Now must I study yet more, for I would not shame in any way the people who are my people although they know me not. Some day they may know me well."

And so the maiden plunged into her books anew, and also grew skilled in embroidery, even copying the pattern on her mother's dainty cape, and copying it well too, on a skirt of fine India muslin that had lain in Mistress Brace's trunk.

A few weeks after the young Virginians had started for Boston there had come a hard battle, even the battle of Bunker Hill.

And Hotspur had borne his young master to the distant colony barely in time to take part in it, after first meeting his friends at the turnpike.

In July, Sir Percival Grandison received from his son an account of the hard contest. He told how all night he and his comrades, delicately nurtured young men all, with soft hands and lions' hearts, had worked with pick and shovel, and with the rank and file, in throwing up breastworks. And so quietly was the work done that neither a sailor in the near harbor, nor the British sentry but a little away, had heard a sound.

"Although not a great victory for us," Lionel wrote, "we yet showed what kind of men the British have to fight, and our untrained men put to flight soldiers of long experience and training. We feel sure of victory in the end."

One balmy night in August, Sally saw Mammy Leezer trundling up the road, her red and yellow rabbit's ears, or points of her bandanna turban, cocked high and important, her white cotton skirt stiff as starch could make it, and her pipe no doubt in a deep pocket.

Mammy was the only person at Ingleside who had known anything about Sally at Slipside Row. But it will be remembered she also knew something of her father, and always declared she "nebber b'long'd in dat Row, nohow."

Sally answered Mammy's cheerful greeting, and then asked, gaily:

"Going to war, Mammy?"

"Goin' to war?" cried Mammy, with a fearful rolling of eyes. "Now what you take me fo', honey? But I spect you heer'd de news. Dat Mars' Lion, he comin' home soon. Mars' Perc'val, he talkin' o' goin' to Inglan' 'fore long, and Mars' Lion, he hev to come back to Virginny and look affer de plantation and we at de cabins."

Then Mammy lowered her voice, and asked, with a mysterious air:

"Hev you done heer'd 'bout dat Hotspur helpin' Mars' Lion get away to Bosting town?"

"How was that?" asked Sally, for indeed not a word of gossip had she heard about the affair.

Mammy went on:

"Ob course Mars' Perc'val won't hev a word said to him on de subjec', and I doan't b'leeve he know what to tink ob tings. But shor's yore born, honey, I b'leeve de folks up at de house tried in some way to keep Mars' Lion from goin' to Bosting with dose odder boys he done go with.

"And, honey,"—Mammy Leezer held up a dark finger to make more dreadful her solemn air,—"one night las' May, dat Hotspur, he done gone from his outside box, and needer hoof, head, or tail ob him lef'. And dar warn't no man come for dat hoss! Bill, he wor awake all night, and lil Jule, she hev a mis'ry in her lil stummick, so I'se up 'bout all night, and no one come round dat stable we knows dat night, yet, in de mornin', dat Hotspur, he clean gone."

Mammy put her hand, edgewise, side of her mouth, and whispered, loudly:

"Sperrits, honey! Sperrits!"

Sally laughed and shook her shining head.

"Oh, no, Mammy," she said, her voice full and bubbling, "no, no! spirits don't come with strong hands and feet and take a horse away. Bill had a nap, little Jule got easy, and you dozed, then some person led Hotspur away."

Mammy looked carefully around, then said, with a twinkle in her eye:

"Ennyway, I'se glad dat boy get away. Dis yere war won't help de Inglish any. De ole king needn't tink he can put his big foot on de people's neck, and dey not kick back.

"Let Mars' Perc'val and Mistis Gran'son go back to Inglan' ef dey wants to. Dey soon come totin' back 'gain. And Mars' Lion, ef he is a young man, can run de place all it want to be run while dese times is goin' on."

So he was coming back! her Fairy Prince!—

"I must learn yet more," said Maid Sally.

And so, while the dragon-fly buzzed in the hot summer sun, and the lazy breeze scarcely stirred the cobwebs strung from bush to bush, while the flaming poppies were seen through mists of heat, and the cattle stood knee-deep in the streams, Maid Sally studied, recited, sewed, picked over fruits, baked, and grew skilled both in pantry and in parlor.

Truly a little woman of the olden time.

Not often did the old-time parson freely praise any one. But Parson Kendall one day said to Sally:

"I deem it but just, Maid Sally Duquesne, to say that very nobly hast thou done with thy lessons. Many a fine lady might well be proud could she stand by thy side, equal with thee in learning."

And Sally could have hugged herself from very happiness.Then came the cooler days of autumn. The cotton had burst its bolls, the sugar-cane given up its sweets, the tobacco was stored, the fruits preserved.

One fine day in November, Sally saw Hotspur go dashing by, her Fairy Prince holding the rein.

It was like a waft of new, sweet air thus to behold him. Too much a child of nature was Maid Sally to lose or cast aside the dearest fancy of her life as she grew older, and the Fairy Prince of poorer days was the Fairy Prince still in her deep young heart.

He was also her hero now. She had helped him do battle for his country and hers. He was her relation. What a secret to hug within her breast!

But now, hotter and hotter grew the news from all directions. Lord Dunmore, gone from Williamsburg, yet made mischief in other parts of Virginia.

And soon came reports of trouble from near Norfolk, south of Williamsburg.

Sir Percival Grandison, who yet lingered in his Virginia home, no longer tried to keep his young son from fighting with the "rebels." There was in very truth something he kept very quiet about, in connection with the Boston affair.

And he was not surprised when, with young Spottswood, Norris, Byrd, and others, Lionel again mounted Hotspur and went clattering off toward Norfolk to see what trouble the British were making in that quarter.

One morning, when December was in its second week, Sally was in the wide kitchen plucking a goose, that she might learn how, when Parson Kendall came to the door, his wig somewhat awry, his face flushed with excitement, his manner hurried.

"Good Matilda," he said to his wife, "I would that a hamper of food might be quickly prepared, a roll of linen be made ready, and several flasks of your most strengthening tonics be got out. I go with our horse Rupert, and saddle-bags, a long day's journey and nearly a night's, to give such comfort as I can to certain of our men that lie wounded at Great Bridge, near Norfolk.

"News hath been brought that on the seventh, a battle was fought, and great victory was given to the colonists. But young Lionel Grandison and Hugh Spottswood of our township are among the wounded, and help in caring for the injured is called for.

"Doctor Hancocke goes in his wagon with drugs and potions, and so loud a lament made Mammy Leezer, the old colored nurse at Ingleside, begging to go and care for her 'chile,'—for so she calleth young Lionel,—that Doctor Hancocke will take her along with his medicines and bandages.

"Sir Percival also hopes she will soon be able to return with the young man in charge. He scarcely dareth to go himself to the scene of conflict, for feeling is bitter against the Tories. Lady Gabrielle hath taken to her room with cries of anger and sorrow at the news, and as for Rosamond Earlscourt, she hath servants, smelling-bottles, hot drinks, and all she can muster about the place attending on her, so loud is her grief.

"Beshrew me! but I would like to see were it only an ounce of common sense poured into her from some bottle or other!

"Now I go to get my camlet ready,"—a great cape like a cloak,—"and to roll up a blanket."

"Oh, please!"

Parson Kendall and his wife Matilda turned about to see Maid Sally standing with out-stretched hands, cheeks burning, eyes full of entreaty.

"Oh, please let me go! I will squeeze into Doctor Hancocke's wagon with Mammy Leezer, taking but little room. Very, oh, very sorely I have longed to do something that would help in these days. Let me wait on the wounded. I am strong and full of health, and almost a woman grown. I can twist a bandage, make a posset, mix a medicine, feed the sick. I prithee, let me go!"

The parson looked puzzled, Goodwife Kendall looked surprised."Dear maid," she said, "it is no easy thing to tend on wounded men. One must be strong of nerve and firm of hand to deal with the injured."

"Have I asked for smelling-salts or shown weakness in any way when bad news came?" asked Sally. "Try me, but try me! I think I could go through fire or through flood to help our men. Pray let me go!"

But never a word said Maid Sally about its being her kinsman that lay among the wounded.

And Parson Kendall said:

"I like well thy high spirit, maiden, and as a woman goeth in our company,"—he turned toward his wife,—"what think you, good Matilda, of letting the wench come with us?"

"I think," said Goodwife Kendall, "that since she so much desireth it, we might let her go."