There was nothing of the ascetic or complaining nature about her. She was a wholesomely good and reasonable girl, ready and willing to accept any station in life in which she happened to be cast,--always ready to perform her full duty, no matter in what sphere. If she were linked to the fortunes of an honorable pioneer or to the luxury of a Colonial gentleman, she would have no grievances. Mollie Greydon was conscious of her ability to render her full duty in life and therefore the equipoise of her countenance and the grace of her mind and body were discernible in whatever she did. She had much energy, but still had discretion to keep much in reserve. She had lively passions and a temper which any worthy person must respect, but the judgment in its use was the work of a master mind. She quarreled with no one but the open enemies of her country, and the advocates of aristocracy. Her young days had been intermingled with all the contemporary men of ideas, since she was her father’s companion, and always at his side. The social and domestic life of Dorminghurst, the intellectual atmosphere of her home, and the advantages of meeting all the distinguished men of the times around her father’s fireside, had rounded out the qualities of a gifted young woman, which she was. The breakfast was plain and substantial, composed of hominy and milk, and sugar-cured ham, with a corn cake and a cup of coffee; also potatoes that were boiled. Roderick Barclugh had an unerring opportunity to study the bearing of Miss Mollie in all its details. He asked her several pointed questions for the only purpose of sounding her philosophy on current affairs, and on her views of life in the colonies. Among other questions one was addressed to her with an earnest gaze from Barclugh’s penetrating eyes: “Miss Mollie, have you no young lady companions near at hand to help you pass the time?” “No, Mr. Barclugh,” came the prompt and decided answer of the young Quakeress. “I have very few. My father and my mother are my most constant companions. One tutors me in the classics, almost daily, and the other instructs me in all the duties of our household. I am, therefore, very busy at my books, the spinning, the weaving, the oversight of the dairy and the poultry-yards. I have my circle of friends in Philadelphia and I attend some of the entertainments given there; but in these stirring times, when our countrymen need clothes and food, I owe all of my energy to them.” “Well, well, Miss Greydon, you are truly in earnest about this war. Let me see,” laughingly remarked Barclugh, “do you really believe that the Colonists can possibly succeed in their efforts to win independence? Will not your zeal have been spent in vain?” “Why, Mr. Barclugh,” came her reply in girlish enthusiasm, “you remember that Wolsey, in the time of Henry VIII, said: ‘Had I but serv’d my God with half the zeal ‘I serv’d my king, he would not in mine age ‘Have left me naked to mine enemies.’