With the arrival at Nassau Hall, then serving as barracks for the force centred there, a fresh complication arose, for Colonel Harcourt learned that Lord Cornwallis, having seen his force safely in winter quarters at Princeton, Trenton, and Burlington, had departed the day previous for New York, while General Grant, who succeeded him, was still at Trenton.  Taking the night to consider what was best to be done, Harcourt made up his mind to carry his prisoners to New York, a decision which called forth most energetic protests from the squire, who had contrived in the doings of the last two days to take cold, and now asserted that an attack of the gout was beginning.  His pleadings were well seconded by the baron, and not to harass too much one known to be friendly both to the cause and to the commander-in-chief, the colonel finally consented that the fate of Janice should be left to the general in command.  This decided, Lee was once more mounted, and captive and captors set about retracing their steps, while the sleigh carried the squire and Janice, under guard, on to Trenton, Mr. Meredith having elected to make the short trip to that town rather than await the indefinite return of Grant.

It was dusk when they reached Trenton, and once more they were doomed to a disappointment, for the major-general had departed to Mount Holly.  Mr. Meredith’s condition, as well as nightfall, put further travel out of the question, and an appeal was made to Rahl, the Hessian colonel commanding the brigade which held the town, to permit them to remain, which, thanks to the influence of the commissary, was readily granted, on condition that they could find quarters for themselves.

“No fear,” averred the squire, cheerily.  “I’ll never want for sup or bed in Trenton while Thomas Drinker lives.”

“Ach!” exclaimed the colonel.  “Dod iss mein blace ver I sleeps und eats und drinks.  Und all bessitzen you will it find.”

Notwithstanding the warning, the sleigh was driven to the Drinkers’ door, now flanked by a battery of field-pieces, and in front of which paced sentries, who refused to let them pass.  Their protests served to attract the attention of the inmates, and brought the trio of Drinkers running to the door; in another moment the two girls were locked in each other’s arms, while Mr. Meredith put his question concerning possible hospitality.

“Ay, in with thee all, Friend Lambert,” cried Mr. Drinker, leading the way.  “Thou’lt find us pushed into the garret, and forced to eat at second table, while our masters take our best, but of what they leave us thou shalt have thy share.”

“Is ’t so bad as that?” marvelled Mr. Meredith, as, passing by the parlour, he was shown into the kitchen, and a chair set for him before the fire.

“Thee knows the tenets of our faith, and that I accept them,” replied the Quaker.  “Yet the last few days have made me feel that non-resistance—­”

“Thomas!” reproved his sister.  “Say it not, for when the curse is o’er, ’t will grieve thee to have even thought it.”