The major was not mistaken.  With a swelling heart, but smiling countenance, his sister threw herself into his arms, when she kissed and was kissed until the tears streamed down her cheeks.

“It was of Washington I intended to speak, sir,” resumed the major, dashing a tear or two from his own eyes, as Beulah resumed her chair.  “His retreat from the island is spoken of as masterly, and has gained him great credit.  He conducted it in person, and did not lose a man.  I heard Sir William mention it as masterly.”

“Then by heaven, America will prevail in this contest!” exclaims I the captain, striking his fist upon the table, with a suddenness and force that caused all in the room to start.  “If she has a general who can effect such a movement skilfully, the reign of England is over, here.  Why, Woods, Xenophon never did a better thing!  The retreat of the ten thousand was boy’s play to getting across that water.  Besides, your victory could have been no great matter, Bob, or it would never have been done.”

“Our victory was respectable, sir, while I acknowledge that the retreat was great.  No one among us denies it, and Washington is always named with respect in the army.”

In a minute more, Big Smash came in, under the pretence of removing the dishes, but, in reality to see Master Bob, and to be noticed by him.  She was a woman of sixty, the mother of Little Smash, herself a respectable matron of forty; and both had been born in the household of Mrs. Willoughby’s father, and had rather more attachment for any one of her children than for all of their own, though each had been reasonably prolific.  The sobriquets had passed into general use, and the real names of Bess and Ma_ri’_ were nearly obsolete.  Still, the major thought it polite to use the latter on the present occasion.

“Upon my word, Mrs. Bess,” he said, shaking the old woman cordially by the hand, though he instinctively shrunk back from the sight of a pair of lips that were quite ultra, in the way of pouting, which used often to salute him twenty years before—­“Upon my word, Mrs. Bess, you improve in beauty, everytime I see you.  Old age and you seem to be total strangers to each other.  How do you manage to remain so comely and so young?”

“God send ‘e fus’, Masser Bob, heabben be praise, and a good conscience do ‘e las’.  I do wish you could make ole Plin hear dat!  He nebber t’ink any good look, now-a-day, in a ole wench.”

“Pliny is half blind.  But that is the way with most husbands, Smash; they become blind to the charms of their spouses, after a few years of matrimony.”

“Nebber get marry, Masser Bob, if dat be ’e way.”