“Heaven forbid!” exclaimed Younker.

“Heaven forefend!” said Reynolds, with a start.

“Lord presarve us!—­marsy on us!” cried Mrs. Younker, with vehemence.  “What on yarth shall we do, ef them plaguy Britishers git uppermost?  They’ll take away all our lands, for sartin!—­and Ben’s bin and bought four hundred acres, poor man, at forty cents a acre, under the new laws of Varginna[4]—­which comes to one hundred and sixty dollars, hard money; and now maybe he’ll have to lose it all, and not git nothing for it; and then what in the name o’ the whole univarsal creation will become on us?”

“Well, well, Dorothy—­don’t fret about it till it happens—­thar’ll be plenty o’ time then,” said Younker, gravely; “and perhaps it won’t happen at all.”

“Don’t talk to me about fretting, Mr. Younker!” rejoined the now irritated dame, a la Caudle:  “I reckon I don’t fret no easier nor you do, nor half so much nother; but I’d like to know who wouldn’t fret, when they know they’re going to lose all thar property by them thar good for nothing red-coated Britishers, who I do believe is jest as mean as Injens, and they’re too mean to live, that’s sartin.  Fret, indeed!  I reckon it wouldn’t do for you to be letting Preacher Allprayer hear ye say so; for he said one time with his own mouth—­and to me too, mind that!—­that I’d got the bestest disposition in the whole universal yarth o’ creation under the sun!” and the voluble old lady paused to take breath.

“It’s my opine, that ef Preacher Allprayer had lived with you as long as I have, he wouldn’t repeat that thar sentence under oath,” returned Younker, quietly.  Then perceiving that a storm was brewing, he hastened to change the conversation, by addressing the stranger:  “What cause have you, Mr. Williams, for speaking so discourageous o’ the war?”

“The failure of the American arms in battle, the weakness of their resources, and the strength of their opponents,” replied the other.  “I presume you have heard of the battles of Guilford and Camden, in both of which General Greene was defeated?”

“General Gates commanded at Camden, sir!” interposed Reynolds somewhat haughtily.

“I beg pardon, sir!” retorted the other, in a sneering, sarcastic tone; “but I was speaking of the defeat of General Greene!”

“At Camden?”

“At Camden, sir!”

“I am sorry you are no better informed,” rejoined Algernon, with flashing eyes.  “I repeat that General Gates commanded at Camden; and as, unfortunately, I chanced to be in the fight, I claim the privilege of being positive.”

“The youth is doubtless speaking of the battle fought a year or two ago,” rejoined Williams, turning to Younker, in a manner the most insulting to Reynolds; who clenched his hand, and pressed his nether lip with his teeth until the blood sprang through, but said nothing.  “I have reference to the two engagements which took place at Guilford Court House and Camden, in March and April last; whereby, as I said before, General Greene, who commanded at both, was twice defeated, and retreated with great loss; although in the former action his forces outnumbered those of his opponent, Lord Cornwallis, as two to one; and in the latter, far exceeded those of Lord Rawdon, his opponent also.”