In such conversation they passed up Maiden Lane, and by the ruins of Trinity Church to the river side; all of them influenced by the tense feeling which found no vocal outlet for its passion. Men and women would appear for a moment at a window, and then disappear. They were American patriots on the look-out to spread the good news. A flash from the lifted eyes of Agnes was sufficient. Again they would meet two or three royalists talking in a dejected, disparaging way of the victory; or else blustering in anger over the supineness or inefficiency of their generals. "I hope General Clinton will now find his soldiers some tougher work than hay-making," sneered an irate old man who stopped Lord Medway. "If he goes out hay-making, he ought to leave fighting men in the forts. Why the commander at Stony Point--Colonel Johnson--I know him, had a wine party, and the officers from Verplanck's Point were drinking with him, when Wayne walked into their midst and made them all prisoners. I am told the sentinels had been secured, the abatis removed, and the rebels in the works before our fine soldiers knew an enemy was near. And it was that tanner from Pennsylvania--that Dandy Wayne, that stole the march on them! It makes me ashamed of our English troops, my lord! "Well, Mr. Smith, General Clinton will be in New York in a few days. There will be many to call him to account, I have no doubt." In this electric atmosphere heart spoke to heart very readily, for in the midst of great realities conventionalities are of so little consequence, and genuine feeling, of any kind, forgets, or puts aside, flatteries or compliments. So when they reached the Bradley house, Agnes asked Lord Medway if he would enter and rest awhile? And he said he would, and so sat talking about the war until it was tea-time for the simple maidens, who ate their dinner at twelve o'clock. Then he saw Agnes bring in the tray, and take out the china, and lay the round table with a spotless nicety; and it delighted him to watch the homely scene. Maria was knitting, and he turned her ball of pink yarn in his hands and watched her face glow and smile and pout and change with every fresh sentiment. Or, if he lifted his eyes from this picture, he could look at Agnes, who had pinned a clean napkin across her breast, and was cutting bread and butter in the wafer slices he approved. He wondered if she would ask him to take tea with them; if she did not he was resolved to ask himself. Then he noticed she had placed three cups on the tray, and he was sure of her hospitality.