Slowly the girl went down the street thinking of the scene just passed. Mistress Strudwick was right; it was a disgrace for women to brawl thus upon the public thoroughfares; never again would she let her temper get the better of her in this way--only they should not touch her. And already half-forgetful of her resolution, she mounted her steps with flashing eyes and flaming cheeks. Presently lights began to glimmer through the dusk, and when the dark really came every house in the town showed a candle in its window in token of the advantage won at Monmouth, for since Washington held the field they deemed him victorious. Even in those houses where grief had entered, the light shone; for true patriotism is never selfish. Only the Cheshire windows were dark, so that the house made a blot in the street. Mistress Cheshire had gone to the Cleverings to condole with them over Richard; but Joscelyn, because of her promise to Mistress Strudwick, had bided at home, though she would much have loved to comfort Betty. From porch to porch the women called to each other, and some of the girls sang snatches of song here and there, like mocking-birds hid in the shadows. But Joscelyn sat at her upper window, silent and musing, thinking what a beautiful thing Richard Clevering had done to let the little lad go free while he himself went back to captivity. Suddenly a voice below her whispered:-- "Hist! Joscelyn, Joscelyn!" She leaned over the window-sill. "Who is it?" "It is I--Billy Bryce. I have only a minute, for mother must not know I came, but I have a message for you." "From whom comes it, Billy?" "From Richard. Come quickly." She ran lightly down to the veranda and leaned over the railing to the boy in the shadow. He took her hands eagerly in his. "He loves you, Joscelyn!" She did not answer. He was too earnest for a jest, so she only pressed his hand and waited. "He is so noble, so generous, Joscelyn; even among us younger boys he never did a mean thing, and there's not a man in the company who is not his friend." "Yes, I always knew Richard had a kind heart, and his letting you go in his stead was unselfish--beautiful; and I honour him for it." "And do you not love him for it also?" the lad begged wistfully. "Say that you love him just a little." "Nay, Billy; he is brave and kind, and he is my friend and Betty's brother, therefore do I wish him naught but good fortune and happiness; but, laddie, I do not love him." "You are cruel--heartless!" he cried, flinging her hands away. "Richard's little finger hath more feeling in it and is worth more than your whole body." "Your championship does you credit, Billy, and I shall not quarrel with you for appraising my value so low. Mayhap Richard thinks differently."