As George rode up to the broad front porch a girlish figure flew out of the door, and Betty clasped him in her arms. He knew he had always loved Betty, but until then he did not fully realize how dear his only sister was to him. Then there was his brother Laurence--a handsome, military-looking man, but pale and slight in comparison with George, who was a young Hercules in development--and his sister-in-law, a pretty young woman of whom he was fond and proud. And toddling about was little Mildred, whom Betty had taught to say "Uncle George," in anticipation of his arrival. All were delighted to see him; and his brother Laurence, telling him that Admiral Vernon, his old friend, for whom he had changed the name of the plantation to Mount Vernon from Hunting Creek, was visiting him, was for presenting him then and there to the Admiral. But Betty interposed. "Wait until George has changed his clothes, brother, for I am sure he looks much better in his blue cloth jacket and his brocaded waistcoat, made of our mother's wedding-gown; and I want the Admiral to think well of him at first, and--oh, George has a sword! He thinks he is a man now!" George blushed a little, but he was very willing, boy like, to tell of how Lord Fairfax gave him the rapier, and Laurence and Mrs. Washington and Betty were all delighted, except that Betty wished it had been the one with the diamond hilt, which caused George to sniff at her ignorance. "That was a sword that anybody could buy who had money enough; but this is a sword that has seen service, as Lord Fairfax told me. He wore it at Bouchain." As Betty had never heard of Bouchain before, she very wisely held her peace. But she soon dragged George off up stairs to the little room which was his whenever he staid at Mount Vernon, and where Billy had preceded him with the portmanteau. George was full of questions about his mother and everybody at Ferry Farm, and Betty was full of questions about Greenway Court and Lord Fairfax, so they made but little headway in their mutual inquiries. Suddenly, as George glanced out of the window towards the river, he saw a beautiful black frigate lying at anchor. It was near sunset of a clear December evening, and a pale green light was over the river, the land, and the sky. Every mast was clearly outlined, and her spars were exactly and beautifully squared in true man-of-war style. The union-jack flying from her peak was distinctly visible in the evening light, and the faint echo of the bugle came softly over the water, and died among the wooded hills along the shore. George stood motionless and entranced. It was the first ship of war he had ever seen, and the beauty and majesty of the sight thrilled him to the core of his heart. Betty chattered on glibly.