"The burning house? Oh, at Windsor; but I didn't pull her out. There wasn't the least danger, and I only tapped at the door. Why, I had almost forgotten about it. It was nothing at all, so far as I was concerned." But Lucy only shook her head, as she repeated shyly, "But we think you a heroine all the same." Nor could any words of Martine's have made her change her mind. Had she not always been taught that the truly great were modest? Martine's very denials were a strong evidence that she was truly great. There was nothing, therefore, for Martine to do but accept the place on the pedestal where they put her. In spite of this idealizing, however, Priscilla's younger friends were not afraid of Martine. If they had felt any awe before they saw her it immediately passed away when they had looked into her frank brown eyes, and had heard the clear notes of her ringing laugh. Pleasanter even than the tea-party to Martine was the second evening that Mr. Stacy spent with her and Priscilla. "Everything that you haven't told me before about Plymouth and its early days you must tell me now," Martine had said. "When I go back to Boston I wish to astonish my brother by my display of historical knowledge. I am sure that he doesn't know the difference between a Puritan and a Pilgrim, which you have so carefully explained to me, Mr. Stacy; and there are fifty other things that I shall spring on him, and mortify him to death, for Lucian thinks that he knows a lot of history, but as far as I can make out he hasn't got far beyond Charlemagne in his two years at Harvard." "Yet he went to school first?" asked Mr. Stacy, quizzically. "Yes, but everyone knows that boys in the fitting schools remember as little as they can of American history--although," with an afterthought, "I will admit that Lucian did take an interest last summer in the English and Acadian history of Nova Scotia." This mention of Acadia suggested various questions to Mr. Stacy, and soon Martine had plunged into a vivid account of their experiences of the preceding summer. "I have heard part of this before from the lips of Priscilla," said Mr. Stacy, "and her description of the various protegées gathered in by your party interested me greatly. I know that she has not forgotten Eunice, and, indeed, we all expect to see the little Annapolis girl in Plymouth before many summers have passed. But what about Yvonne and Pierre, who on the whole interest me rather more than Eunice--as much, perhaps, because of their infirmities as on account of their foreign blood?"