“There is my son now, going to his room. He will join us shortly. I cannot tell you, my lord, how great a help I have in my son. As you know, my step-son, Captain Laurence Washington, late of the British army, since leaving his Majesty’s service and marrying Mistress Anne Fairfax, has lived at the Hunting Creek place, which he has called Mount Vernon, in honor of his old friend and comrade-in-arms, Admiral Vernon. It is a good day’s journey from here, and although Laurence is most kind and attentive, I have had to depend, since his marriage, upon my son George to take his father’s place in the conduct of my affairs and in my household. It is he who reads family prayers night and morning and presides with dignity at the foot of my table. It might seem strange to those who do not know his character how much I rely upon his judgment, and he but fifteen. Even my younger sons obey and respect him, and my daughter Betty does hang upon her brother. ’Tis most sweet to see them together.” At which Mistress Betty smiled and glanced at the earl, and saw so kind a look in his eyes as he smiled back at her that she looked at him quite boldly after that. “It is most gratifying to hear of this, madam,” replied the earl; “but it is hardly merciful of you to a childless old man, who would give many worldly advantages had he but a son to lean upon in his old age.” “You should have married twenty years ago, my lord,” answered Madam Washington, promptly. Something like a gleam of saturnine humor appeared in the earl’s eyes at this, but he only replied, dryly, “Perhaps it is not wholly my fault, madam, that I find myself alone in my old age.” At that moment the door opened, and young Washington stood upon the threshold. CHAPTER II The full flood of the sun, now low in the heavens, poured through the western windows upon the figure of the boy standing in the doorway. The room was beginning to darken, and the ruddy firelight, too, fell glowingly upon him. The earl was instantly roused, and could scarcely persuade himself that the boy before him was only fifteen; seventeen, or even eighteen, would have seemed nearer the mark, so tall and well-developed was he. Like all creatures of the highest breeding, George looked handsomer the handsomer his dress; and although his costume was really simple enough, he had the splendid air that made him always appear to be in the highest fashion. His coat and knee-breeches were of dark-blue cloth, spun, woven, and dyed at home. His waistcoat, however, was of white brocade, and was made of his mother’s wedding-gown, Madam Washington having indulged her pride so far as to lay this treasured garment aside for waistcoats for her sons, while Mistress Betty was to inherit the lace veil and the string of pearls which had gone with the gown.