At the Warrington home the hours became a continual round of happiness. It seemed, indeed, like old times, to have the house free and open, and filled with kindly, affectionate friends. That first night in Boston neither Phil, Andy nor Ralph slept a wink. Neighborhood boys, too young to volunteer, stuck to them tightly, begging for story after story of their army experiences. The Musket Boys were the heroes of the whole town. Two evenings later affairs were on a somewhat more rational basis. Phil and his friends and his family were seated in the big sitting room of the house, listening to an officer who had come from the camp to explain that within a few days the New England army would be reorganized to join Washington near New York, when there came a tremendous thump at the front door. Phil went to open it. There stood a man with a covered box in his hand, dancing from foot to foot in an excited, jubilant sort of way, as he piped out as cheerily as ever: "It's only me, old Silas Berks, and his parrot. Andy, hooroar! Attention, company! this is the gladdest hour of my life." In the effulgence of his happy feelings old Silas set the box on the step. It tumbled over, its cover came open, and out flopped Polly, bobbing and eyeing the audience with the ringing sentiment for the occasion: "Hurrah for liberty!" It took some time for affairs to settle down to normal. Andy had many a question to ask about the friends at home. Mr. Warrington gave the old French and Indian fighter such a warm welcome, that he grinned and bobbed around in the best rocker in the house, feeling, indeed, that he was a guest of honor. "And now then," observed old Silas finally, his snappy little eyes blinking mysteriously, "what brought me to Boston? Can anyone answer that? What brought me to Boston?" "You tell it," directed Andy. "The dog that old Jasper Bram and his precious son Greg didn't bury!" cried the old man. "What?" exclaimed Phil, arising to his feet in some excitement. "You haven't found out--?" "Didn't I tell you I would?" "Yes, but--" "And I did," pursued the veteran complacently. "I used to look every day after you boys went away at that old chalk memorandy of mine under the shelf. It made me think of you, and then I felt less lonesome. I puzzled and puzzled, but nothing came of it. Old Jasper came back and Greg joined the Tory army, and time wore on, and nothing came of the memorandy until last week." "And then, Silas?" urged the impatient Andy eagerly. "Then one night there comes to my house Bram's old hired man. He had dared to ask that vicious old Tory for his wages, and Jasper had given him a drubbing and turned him out to starve. Well, I took him in. He is an innocent, stupid sort of a fellow, and he felt great gratitude towards me. One day I happened to look at that chalk memorandy, and it comes to me to ask the man if Bram ever had a dog. He said 'No'. Then I asked him if Bram had ever buried a dog."