"Hush! don't air your opinions so loudly around here," cautioned Godfrey, in a good-natured tone. "I'm not going to quarrel with you, Nathan. Two such old friends as we are can surely meet without talking about the war. I can't forget that you saved my life once, and I will always be grateful." "That sounds well from a Tory," interrupted Nathan. "Why don't you begin by being grateful to your country?" The other flushed, and for a few embarrassing seconds nothing was said. Standing together in the stream of yellow lamp-light, the two lads looked strangely alike, a resemblance that others had frequently observed. They were of the same build and height, and had the same general features. Godfrey Spencer was older by a year, with black eyes and hair. Nathan's eyes and hair were deep brown. "You are still attending college?" Godfrey finally said. Nathan nodded. "When did you come back to town?" he asked. "Two days ago," Godfrey replied, "with dispatches for General Clinton. You know I went with my mother to Long Island, and there I enlisted in a--a Tory regiment. I was promoted to lieutenant a month ago, and now Major Langdon, who is stationed here, has promised me a place on his staff." The last words were spoken with evident pride. "I'm sorry for you," said Nathan. "I can't wish you success, Godfrey, but I truly hope, for the sake of old times, that you won't get shot. I must go now. Good-bye." Disregarding the other's appeal to return, Nathan walked rapidly down the street, ignorant of the fact--as was Godfrey--that a British officer had been watching both lads closely from the open and lighted window of the house in front of which they were standing. "Who was that lad, Spencer?" he demanded. "An old college friend, Major Langdon," replied Godfrey, a little startled by the question. "His people are rebels. I was trying to convert him." "I mean his name, stupid, quick!" "Nathan Stanbury," said Godfrey. The major's face turned white, and something like an oath escaped his lips. His hands shook as they rested on the window-sill. "I might have known," he muttered to himself. Then aloud: "Yonder is a bit of paper the lad dropped when he pulled out his handkerchief. Fetch it, Spencer." Godfrey reluctantly picked up the paper, and Major Langdon opened the door to admit him. * * * * * A few months before Richard Stanbury's arrival in the Colonies there came from England to Philadelphia a merchant of London, Matthew Marsham by name. He was accompanied by his daughter, Betty Spencer, and her infant son Godfrey. Mrs. Spencer wore mourning for her husband, who had died recently. The merchant engaged in business, and prospered sufficiently to keep his little family in comfort and give his grandson a thorough education. To college went Godfrey in due course, and here he and Nathan were classmates for nearly a year after the beginning of the Revolution, during which period they formed a warm boyish friendship.