Johnnie Strings had kept his word to Dorothy, and brought the ribbon and lace. Aunt Lettice had paid him for the goods she purchased, making no response when he said, as he strapped his pack, "The Britishers be quartered on the Neck, ma'am,--landed there this very mornin'. The reg'lars,--they came down by ships from Salem; an' a troop o' dragoons be ridin' over to join 'em." It was Mary Broughton who asked, "What are they come there for, Johnnie,--do you know?" "Any one can guess, mistress, I take it," he replied significantly, busying himself with the buckles. "And what do you guess, Johnnie?" asked Dorothy, who was examining a sampler 'Bitha was working, which was to announce,-- "Tabitha Hollis is my name, New England is my nation, Marblehead is my dwelling-place, And Christ is my Salvation." Johnnie Strings finished his work with the straps and buckles; then raising himself from the floor, he said jocosely: "Now, Mistress Dorothy, surely ye don't care to burden your mind with matters o' state. Whatever they be come down for, 't is a true fact that the redcoats be on the Neck,--a hundred or more of 'em. An' as I was tellin' ye but t'other day, ye'd best keep at home till they be called away again." This was Thursday; and Friday morning the two girls, with 'Bitha, were down in the Sachem's Cave, a small opening that ran, chasm-like, into the rocks a few feet above the level of the sea, with a natural roof projecting over it. Within was a sandy floor,--whether or not the work of man, none living could say. It was studded with shells, placed there by childish hands, and the cave had served as playhouse for many generations of boys and girls. The opening was hung about with a lace-like weed, wherein some drops of water were now sparkling in the morning sunshine; and beyond, stretching away to the horizon, could be seen the sea. The waves creeping in against the shore broke with gentle plashings as they touched the rocky base of the headlands; a wonderful serenity lay over the face of the earth, and all between the land and horizon seemed a blank and dreaming space of water. "We are sure to have a fine night," Dorothy had just said, as she looked out at the sea and sky. "H-m-m," murmured Mary, warningly, and with a quick glance at 'Bitha, who seemed to be poring intently over a small book she had taken from her pocket. "What are you reading, 'Bitha?" Dorothy asked; and the little girl came close beside her. It was Aunt Lettice's "Church Book;" and on the titlepage was:-- "A NEW VERSION OF the PSALMS of DAVID, fitted to the Tunes ufed in the Churches: With feveral Hymns Out of the Old and New Teftaments. By John Barnard, Paftor of a Church in Marblehead."