"Safe?" quoth Claudia, smiling. "Yes, madam." "Safe from what, child?" "From the unlawful machinations of designing men, madam. My father told me that men hunt women as a sport." "Oh, la!" cried Claudia, laughing; "you have it hind end foremost! Man is the hunted one! Man is the victim! Is it not so, Jack?"--looking so impudently at me that I was too vexed to smile in return, but got very red and gazed elsewhere. "And what did you then, Penelope Grant?" inquired Lady Johnson, with a soft sort of interest which was natural and unfeigned, she having a gentle heart and tender under all her pride and childishness. "I took ship, my lady, and came to New York." "And then?" "I went to Parson Gano in his church,--who was a friend to my father, though a Baptist. I was but a child, and he cared for me for three years. But I could not always live on others' bounty; so he yielded to my desires and placed me as servant to Douw Fonda, who was at that time visiting New York. And so, when Mr. Fonda was ready to go home to Caughnawaga, I accompanied him." "And are his aid and crutch in his old age," said Lady Johnson, gently. "What wonder, then, he wishes to adopt you, Penelope Grant." "If you will be my companion," cried Claudia, "I shall dare adopt you, pretty as you are--and risk losing every lover I possess!" The Scottish girl's brown eyes widened at that; but even Lady Johnson laughed, and I saw the loveliest smile begin to glimmer on Penelope's soft lips. "Thank heaven for a better humour in the house," thought I, and was pleased that Claudia had made a gayety of the affair. I went to the window and looked out. Smoke from the camp fires of the Continentals made a haze all along the reedy waterfront. I saw their sentries walking their posts; heard the noise of their axes in the bush; caught a glimpse of my own men lying in the orchard on the new grass, and Nick cooking jerked meat at a little fire of coals, which gleamed in the grass like a heap of dusty jewels. And, as I stood a-watching, I felt a touch at my elbow, and turned to face the girl, Penelope. "Your promise, sir," she said. "You have not forgotten?" "No," I replied, flushing again under Claudia's mocking gaze. "But you should first eat something." "And you, also," said Lady Johnson, coming to me and laying both hands upon my shoulders. She looked into my eyes very earnestly, very sadly. "Forgive me, Jack," she said. I kissed her hands, saying that it was I who needed forgiveness, to so speak to her in her deep anxiety and unhappiness; but she shook her head and bade me remain and eat breakfast; and went away to her chamber to dress, carrying Claudia to aid her, and leaving me alone there with the girl Penelope. "So," said I civilly, though still annoyed by memory of my horse and how this girl had carried everything with so high a hand, "so you have lived in France?" "Yes, sir." "Hum! Well, did you find the people agreeable?"