“Hast turned fire-worshipper?” demanded Andre’s voice, merrily, as she still knelt, “for if so, ’t will be glad news for the sparks.”

The girl sprang to her feet.  “I—­I was just burning a —­a—­some rubbish,” she answered.

“Here I am, not in the lion’s den, but in the jackal’s, and my stay must be brief.  Canst detect that I am big with news?”

“Of what?"’

“This morning Sir Henry Clinton arrived, and for the first time the army learns that Sir William has resigned his command, and is leaving us.  The field officers wish to mark his departure by a farewell fete in his honour, and as it would be a mockery without the ladies, we are appealing to them to aid us.  We plan to have a tourney of knights, each of whom is to have a damsel who shall reward him with a favour at the end of the contest.  I have bespoken fair Peggy for mine, and I am sure Mobray, who is not yet returned, will ask you.  Wilt help us?”

“Gladly,” assented Janice, eagerly, “if dadda will let me.”

“I met him in High Street on my way here, made my plea, and, though at first he pulled a negative look, when I reminded him he owed Sir William for a good place, he relented and said you could.”

“And what am I to do?”

“You are to be gowned in a Turkish costume, in the—­”

“Nay, Captain Andre” replied Janice, shaking her head, “we are too poor to spend any money in such manner.”

“Think you the knights are so lacking in chivalry that we could permit our guests to pay?  The subscription is large enough to cover all expenses, the stuffs are already purchased, and all you will have to do is to make them up in the manner of this sketch.”

“Then I accept with pleasure and thanks.”

“’T is we owe the thanks.  And now farewell, for I have much to do.”

“Captain Andre,” said the girl, as he opened the door, “I have a question—­Wilt answer me something?”

“Need you ask?”

“I suppose ’t is a peculiar one, and so—­Do you—­is it generally thought by—­Do the gentlemen of the army deem Mrs. Loring beautiful?”

“Too handsome for the good of our—­of the army.”

“Even though she paints and powders?”

“But in London and Paris ’t is the mode.”

“I think ’t is a horrid custom.”

“And so would every woman had she but thy cheeks.  Ah, Miss Meredith, ’t is easy for the maid whose tints are a daily toast at the messes to blame those to whom nature has not given a transparent skin and mantling blood.”

When Mobray returned from Germantown, he at once sought out Janice and confirmed Andre’s action.  Though he found her working on the costume, it was with so melancholy a countenance that he demanded the cause.

“T is what you know already,” moaned the girl, miserably.  “Lord Clowes is pressing me for an answer, and now dadda is urgent that I give him ay.”

“Why?”