Now, to tea, comes sauntering our precious plague of suitors, one by one, and two by two, from the camp on the mainland. And all around they sit them down--with ceremony, it's true, but their manners found no favour with me either. And I thought of Ulysses, and of the bow that none save he could bend. Well, there was ceremony, as I say, and some subdued gaiety, not too marked, in deference to Lady Johnson's political condition. There was tea, which our officers and I forbore to taste, making a civil jest of refusal. But there was an eggnog for us, and a cooled punch, and a syllabub and cakes. Toward sundown a young officer brought his fiddle from camp and played prettily enough. Others sang in acceptable harmony a catch or two, and a romantic piece for concerted voices, which I secretly thought silly, yet it pleased Lady Johnson. Then, at Claudia's request, Penelope sang a French song made in olden days. And I thought it a little sad, but very sweet to hear there in the gathering dusk. Other officers came up in the growing darkness, paid their respects, tasted the punch. Candles glimmered in the Summer House. Shadowy forms arrived and departed or wandered over the grassy slope along the water. I missed Claudia. Later, I saw Penelope rise and give her hand to a man who came stalking up in a watch cloak; and presently they strolled away over the lawn, with her arm resting on his. Major Westfall and Lady Johnson were conversing gravely on the north porch. Others, dimly visible, chatted around me or moved with sudden clank of scabbard and spur. Penelope did not come back. At first I waited calmly enough, then with increasing impatience. Where the devil had she gone with her Captain Spatter-dash? Claudia I presently discovered with men a-plenty around her; but Penelope was not visible. This troubled me. So I went down to the orchard, carelessly sauntering, and not as though in search of anybody. And so encountered Penelope. She and her young man in the watch-cloak passed me, moving slowly under the trees. He wore black spatter-dashes. And, as we saluted, it came to me that this was one of the officers from the Canajoharie Regiment; but in the starlight I knew him no better than I had by day. "Strange," thought I, "that young Spatter-dashes seems so familiar to my eyes, yet I can not think who he may be." Then, looking after him, I saw his comrade walking toward me from the well, and with him was Colas, with a lantern, which shined dimly on both their faces. And, suddenly: "Why, sir!" I blurted out in astonishment, "are you not Captain Hare?" "No, sir," said he, "my name is Sims, and I am captain in the Canajoharie militia." And he bowed civilly and walked on, Colas following with the lantern, leaving me there perplexed and still standing with lifted cap in hand.