It was long past the customary dining hour when the house was reached, and though Mrs. Meredith and Janice joined Sukey and Peg in the hurried preparation of the meal, it was not till after three that it could be announced.  As a consequence, before the men had tired of the Madeira, dark had come.  One unfortunate of the staff was therefore despatched to order the regiments to bivouac for the night.

“Tell the commissaries to issue an extra ration of rum,” directed Sir William, made generously minded by the generous use of the wine.  “And now, friend Lambert, let ’s have in the spirits, and if it but equal thy Madeira in quality we’ll sing a Te Deum and make a night of it.”

Janice, at a call from the host, brought in the squat decanters; and the general insisted, with a look which told his admiration, that his first glass should be mixed by the girl.

“Nay, nay,” he cried, checking her as she reached for the loaf sugar.”  “Put it to thy lips, and ’t will be sweeter than any sugar can make it.  Take but a sip and give us a toast along with it.”  And the general caught at the girl’s free hand and tried to put his other arm about her waist.

“Oh, fie, Sir William!” called Clowes, too flushed with wine to guard his tongue.  “What will Mrs. Loring think of such talk?”

“Think!  Let her think what she may,” retorted the general, with a laugh.  “Dost thou not know that woman is never sweeter than when she is doubtful of her empire?”

Janice, with heightened colour and angry eyes, eluded Howe’s familiarities by a backward step, and, raising the glass, defiantly gave, “Success to Washington!” Then, scared at her own temerity, she darted from the room, in her fright carrying away the tumbler of spirits.  But she need not have fled, for her toast only called forth an uproarious burst of laughter.

“I always said ’t was a rebellion of petticoats,” chuckled Sir William.  “And small blame to them when they sought to tax their only drink.  ’Fore George, I’d rebel myself if they went to taxing good spirits unfairly.  Ah, gentlemen, after we have finished with Mr. Washington next week, what sweet work ’t will be to bring the caps to a proper submission!  No wonder Cornwallis is hot to push on and have done with the men.”

The morrow found Sir William no less inclined to tarry than he had been the day before, and, using the plea that they would await the arrival of Knyphausen’s force, he sent orders to the advance to remain bivouacked at Brunswick, much to the disgust of Cornwallis, who was little mollified by the consent he finally wrung from his superior to push forward the Light Horse on a reconnoissance,—­a task on which he at once departed.