Many eager eyes opened the following morning to a dismal sight. Rain fell as if it meant to wash away everything on top of the earth. It continued to rain all morning, and it thus behooved the ladies to provide amusement indoors for the active children. “I think I will read another chapter of Washington’s life,” suggested Mrs. Parke. “Read a quiet, uneventful chapter,” hinted Mrs. Davis. “Read about the battle of Bunker Hill!” cried George. “On a dreary day like this we ought to read about the dying of the first child of Martha Custis and then later, the death-bed scene of Colonel Custis. Then we can fill in time with reading of Mrs. Custis’ life with her two remaining children after she was widowed,” ventured Mrs. Parke. But the objections violently raised against such mournful readings, soon quieted both ladies and led them to see the wisdom of a more active tale for that day. “If you do not care to hear me read of Martha Custis’ bereavement perhaps you will like to hear of her second marriage?” said Mrs. Parke, turning over the pages of the book slowly. “Oh, aunty, do tell us how Washington met Martha Custis and fell in love!” sighed Anne, the sentimental one of the group. “If the boys will keep quiet I will read that chapter, and then you girls must promise to listen to a battle scene which I will read to them.” They all promised to be model listeners, so Mrs. Parke began: “‘In the month of May, 1758, Washington journeyed from Fort Loudoun to Williamsburg, and in the course of travelling, he first met Martha Custis, the fair widow who was later to be his wife. “‘The Virginia regiment had great need of necessities, so Washington was sent with dispatches to urge and explain to the Council and Assembly the imperative need of fitting the regiment properly before sending it to the capture of Fort Duquesne. “‘So George Washington, riding the magnificent horse bequeathed him by Braddock, and accompanied by his servant also acquired in the same manner, was passing the county of New Kent, Virginia, when he met an elderly gentleman riding and looking about as if familiar with the scenery. “‘Both riders halted, saluted and then rode on together. As they approached the avenue leading to a stately mansion, the elder man placed a detaining hand on the reins, and said: “‘“Colonel, let it never be said that you passed the house of your father’s old friend without dismounting.” “‘“But, my dear sir, I ride in haste to bear letters to our Governor in Williamsburg,” objected Washington. “‘“Nevertheless, my dear colonel, you will dine with me, and borrow some of the fine moonlight to show you the way to the Governor. You will reach Williamsburg ere break of day.” “‘“Do you promise to excuse me immediately after dinner?” asked Washington. “‘“With all the promptness of military discipline!” agreed the host.