"Ay, shame upon you!" cried several voices; and faces scowled and a few fists were clenched. The girl cowered back, amazed, affrighted. "Pull those red roses out of her belt; we want no Tory colours here!" cried Amanda Bryce; and two or three hands reached toward the knot of scarlet blossoms. But Joscelyn, her eyes beginning to kindle, stepped back and raised her own hand warningly. "Do not touch me! Yes, I am a Tory, as you are pleased to call us, and I am not ashamed that the king's army hath been preserved from destruction; but I am sorry, very sorry your friends and kindred are to suffer--though perhaps some punishment is necessary to rebels." Mistress Strudwick started to the girl's side, but little Billy Bryce was before her. "Who touches Joscelyn must first pass me!" he cried to the angry women. "Mother, be silent! What share could a girl like this have in our capture; and what matters a few men taken when the victory was ours?" "Yes, praise God, we thrashed the miserable cowards of Redcoats as they deserved." "A great thrashing 'twas, when they lost not a wagon of their train, and took more prisoners than Washington," Joscelyn answered tartly. A dozen voices answered her angrily, and she opened her lips to reply, but Mistress Strudwick clapped her broad palm over the girl's mouth. "Hold your saucy tongue, Joscelyn; and you girls, there, be silent this minute. What, is the war to ruin the manners of our women that they can descend so low as to brawl in the public streets? Shame upon you, every one! What hath come of your senses that you thus demean yourselves and belittle the raising your elders gave you?" The reproof had the desired effect; for the girl stood silent and abashed, and her angry assailants drew back. Taking advantage of the lull, Mistress Strudwick seized Joscelyn by the arm and almost forcibly drew her away. "Begone to your home, and bide there till you learn some sense," she cried sharply. "What's the use in butting your brains out against a wall, when there's room enough to go around it? There is no fool like a self-made fool! Go." But when the girl had gone a few steps she made her return. "Promise me truly," she whispered, "that you'll go straight home and stay until the fire you kindled here burns down a bit--promise you will not stir from the house, or I shall not sleep to-night." "I promise, dear Mistress Strudwick," Joscelyn said, kissing the big hand that patted her cheek. "You heard me say I was sorry our townsfolk were taken, and so I am." "Yes, yes. Harkee, tell your mother I say to be sure and send Amanda Bryce a loaf of hot bread for supper--Billy will be hungry with running so far from Monmouth," she said, with a meaning wink. In truth, she intended the hot bread as a peace-offering to Mistress Bryce, for it was by such small acts of quiet diplomacy that she kept down the enmity against the Cheshires, or rather against Joscelyn, since she it was who aroused the resentment.