And because Laura Secord did only what almost every woman in Upper Canada would have done in her place, the United States did not conquer Canada. A month after Beaver Dam, a party of officers were dining at Stoney Creek, which was still Vincent's headquarters. They were the guests of Archy, who had risen in rank in the bush fighting, but had not improved in grammar. The men were unkempt-looking after their rough living, and lack of many of the appendages of civilization. Only Percy wore his patched and shabby garments with an uneradicable air of neatness. He and Archy were close friends now, probably because in all outside matters they were entirely unlike. The party ate from silver plate, and tin dishes, at a table formed by setting two shutters on three barrels. Their fare was roast beef and venison in abundance, with a little dark bread, and a mess of mixed greens. War was pinching Upper Canada hard, her crops would be very scanty, and the government had already bought all the flour to be found, paying the sometimes unwilling settlers twenty dollars a barrel, which was considerably above the market price. Bread was selling at forty cents a large loaf, and scanty rations of flour were doled out to the army, who had to live mainly on meat, the farmers naturally refusing to sell vegetables, fruit, or butter at any price, for they had the winter to look forward to. The Indians brought in berries and edible greens, and nobody starved. Archy was looking doubtfully at the brew his servant was pouring into cups. "This here, gentlemen," he said, "is birch bark tea. I don't think its poison, and I was so sick of those herb drinks that I thought I'd try it. If you don't like it, call it a horror of war." Desert--a pot of cooked fruit, small peaches and apples, was on the table, with a jug of whiskey, and Percy said to the host. "I trust you came by that fruit honestly. Ferguson is wearing himself out trying to head off three thousand irresponsible vagabonds from picking up green fruit that doesn't belong to them. I often feel I am the most virtuous man in the camp, for except when I dine out, I know I get nothing to eat but what is paid for." "It's starch you mean to steal, if you hear of any," said Archy, laughing. Percy sighed as he looked at the limp frills of his shirt. "That is the worst thing I have to endure," he said. "If I hear of starch I shall certainly wait till Ferguson is intent on some other criminal and go out and steal it myself. Isn't that Ned Edgar over there? He is certainly making a good record for himself, though he always looks to me as if he had something on his mind." Ferguson thought the same, and bewildered that Ned seemed avoiding him, he met him that afternoon by the desecrated chapel, and Ned could not escape speaking to him. Ferguson looked sadly into the building, for the bunks for the sick round its walls had been made of broken up pulpit, seats, and communion table. So war had ordered.