"Yes, going; you are in a teasing mood, this morning. You go to the races to-morrow?" "I certainly shall." "And I may ride beside the coach?" "If you wish," she said; "with Mr. Paca, and Mr. Hammond and----" "And a score of others, of course." He bowed over her hand a moment, then strolled away, singing softly the chorus of the old troop song: "Then over the rocks and over the steep, Over the waters, wide and deep, We'll drive the French without delay, Over the lakes and far away." Martha Stirling listened until the singing ceased, then she shrugged her shoulders, and went slowly back to the house. A month before she had come out from England to visit her uncle--Colonel Horatio Sharpe, Governor of Maryland--and instantly became the toast of all the young men of the Colony. There was nothing surprising, possibly, in that; Governor Sharpe's niece would have been popular if she had been without any particular attraction, but Miss Stirling had attractions in abundance. Under a great mass of jet black hair, piled high on her head, was a face of charming beauty, with blue eyes that warmed and sparkled--though on occasion they could glint cold enough--a perfect nose, and a mouth made for laughter alone. In figure, she was just above the average, slender and lithe. This morning, her gown was of pink linen, and, as she passed up the steps into the mansion, one could see a finely turned silk ankle, with white slippers to match. Crossing the wide entrance hall, she knocked on a door, waited a moment, and, receiving no reply, knocked again, then entered. It was the Governor's room, but he was not in presence. As she turned away, old Joshua, the white-haired negro who was his Excellency's body-servant, appeared. "Where is Colonel Sharpe?" she asked. "Gone to the State House, Mis' Marfa." She nodded in dismissal and went in, leaving the door open behind her. Seating herself at the great, broad table, her glance fell on a letter, opened and spread wide. Not thinking what she did, she read: _London, 10th March, 1766._ _My Dear Sir_: _This letter will Introduce to you Sir Edward Parkington for Whom I bespeak your most courteous Attention and Regard. Extend him all the Hospitality in your power. I am, Sir_, _Your humble and ob'd't servant_, _Baltimore_. _To_ _His Excellency, Col. Horatio Sharpe_, _Governor of Maryland_. "So!" she said, "Baltimore himself sponsors Sir Edward Parkington; which may mean much for his responsibilities but little for his morals.... Well, he will serve to irritate Captain Herford; but can I use him to draw Richard Maynadier one little step along?"