“No, don’t!” he said, laughing gaily, catching her hand and pressing it to his lips; “don’t do it! In great seriousness, I shouldn’t like that. Of the two extreme alternatives, I would rather you should continue to be a man-hater, with a single exception in my favor.” Britomarte smiled at this speech. And before the smile had left her lips, Elfie opened the door; but seeing them alone, was about to close it again, when Britomarte called to her: “Come in, Elfie!” She entered, saying: “There is a couple out in the hall, inquiring for General Rosenthal. They are on their way to the North, but have stopped till the next train for the sake of calling to see the General.” Justin immediately went out into the hall, where he found Tom and Judith. They were looking remarkably well; and the Irish woman was eager in her expressions of joy at seeing her old friend, and anxious in her inquiries about Miss Conyers. Justin stepped to the drawing-room door and called Britomarte out. And there ensued a meeting a great deal more noisy and demonstrative, if not so deeply emotional as any we have recorded. Judith and Tom had made money enough in the war to cover twenty times over their losses by Monck’s capture of their wagon. And they were now going to New York to start in the grocery and provision line of business. Their time was limited and they soon took leave, amid the kindest wishes for their future welfare. Since Britomarte’s arrival at the Parsonage, she had noticed that Elfie often looked at her with very roguish eyes. So the first time she found herself alone with that wild young woman, Miss Conyers said: “Now I want you to tell me what that means? Out with it, Elfie.” “I must! I can’t keep it any longer! I want to tell you that I knew, if nobody else did, who was the spy that penetrated into the camp of the Free Sword!” “Oh, Elfie, speak no more of that! It was a stern military necessity, but it will ever remain with me, one of the darkest memories of the war!” “How many names and how many wigs had you, Britomarte—Wing, Dill, Gill?—You were a very pretty boy in the blue-black curled wig, as Dill; but you were a hideous little fellow, in the short-cropped flaxen wig, as Wing?” “Elfie,” said Miss Conyers, very seriously, “Dill is missing and will never be found. Wing is dead and buried. Except yourself, there is but one person in this world who knows my identity with those two names. How you have discovered the secret I do not know! But I must put you on your honor to respect it.” “Here!” said Elfie, lifting a Bible from a centre table, “I will bind myself by a solemn oath never to mention it again to any living soul! not even to Ethel, my betrothed! not even to you! Will that satisfy you?” “Perfectly, my dear,” answered Miss Conyers, kissing Elfie. * * * * * One month later there were three weddings at the Parsonage.