“And yet you’re the bosom friend of Nick, who’s anything but what I call a specimen of his people.”

“Is it Nick ye ‘re afther?  Well, Nick’s half-civilized accorthin’ to yer Yankee manners, and he’s no spicimen, at all.  Let him hear you call him by sich a name, if ye want throuble.”

Joel walked away, muttering, leaving the labourers in doubt whether he relished least the work he was now obliged to unite in furthering, or Mike’s hit at his own peculiar people.  Still the work proceeded, and in one week from the day it was commenced, the stockade was complete, its gate excepted.  The entrance through the palisades was directly in front of that to the house, and both passages still remained open, one set of gates not being completed, and the other not yet being hung.

It was on a Saturday evening when the last palisade was placed firmly in the ground, and all the signs of the recent labour were removed, in order to restore as much of the former beauty of the Knoll as possible.  It had been a busy week; so much so, indeed, as to prevent the major from holding any of that confidential intercourse with his mother and sisters, in which it had been his habit to indulge in former visits.  The fatigues of the days sent everybody to their pillows early; and the snatches of discourse which passed, had been affectionate and pleasant, rather than communicative.  Now that the principal job was so near being finished, however, and the rubbish was cleared away, the captain summoned the family to the lawn again, to enjoy a delicious evening near the close of the winning month of May.  The season was early, and the weather more bland, than was usual, even in that sheltered and genial valley.  For the first time that year, Mrs. Willoughby consented to order the tea-equipage to be carried to a permanent table that had been placed under the shade of a fine elm, in readiness for any fete champetre of this simple character.

“Come, Wilhelmina, give us a cup of your fragrant hyson, of which we have luckily abundance, tax or no tax.  I should lose caste, were it known how much American treason we have gulped down, in this way; but, a little tea, up here in the forest, can do no man’s conscience any great violence, in the long run.  I suppose, major Willoughby, His Majesty’s forces do not disdain tea, in these stirring times.”

“Far from it, sir; we deem it so loyal to drink it, that it is said the port and sherry of the different messes, at Boston, are getting to be much neglected.  I am an admirer of tea, for itself, however, caring little about its collateral qualities.  Farrel”—­turning to his man, who was aiding Pliny the elder, in arranging the table—­“when you are through here, bring out the basket you will find on the toilet, in my room.”

“True, Bob,” observed the mother, smiling—­“that basket has scarce been treated with civility.  Not a syllable of thanks have I heard, for all the fine things it contains.”