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expectation of coming into the title, as my elder brother now has two sons of his own. My pay as a commander is some 200 per annum. I have an additional income of 300 from an inheritance, so I could provide a comfortable home for your granddaughter. I have no contagious diseases, there is no hereditary insanity in the family, I do not gamble nor drink to excess. I am a churchgoing man when ashore, but I believe that Christian deeds count for more than ostentatious piety. I have only contempt for the sort of man who would ever strike a woman or beat his children or servants, I am not cruel to animals—and my teeth are sound.” He ran out of breath and information simultaneously and refreshed himself with a sip of tea. “Have I omitted any significant detail?"
    She chuckled. “If you had, I should not dare to press you further. I wish our minister had your gift for brevity."
    "You may verify all my statements with my commanding officer,” he added helpfully.
    "I'll leave that to my son,” she said, as they heard Cynthia's step upon the stair. “He'll give you a far harder time than I would—he'll not wish to lose the best housewife in Trenton to a quick-thinking sailor."
    * * * *
    Grandmama had lost no time in making good on her promise to give her time to get acquainted with Commander Smith! Cynthia tried to school her features into a semblance of composure. What a goose she was, to become so excited over the prospect of a trip to the fishmonger! She opened the chest at the foot of her bed and shook out her light grey cloak.
    "Cindy!"
    She could not help uttering a small yelp as her younger brother's head popped out from under her bed. “Geoff! How long have you been down there?"
    "Only since breakfast,” he said, pulling his gangling frame the rest of the way out and shaking dust from his brown-blond curls. “Noreen fed me in the kitchen. She hasn't done a very good job of cleaning under the bed, though,” he added. “It isn't like you to miss that."
    "Wherever have you been?” she demanded. “And why are you skulking about the house? Have you talked to Papa?"
    "No,” he said. “Nor do I mean to. I'm staying with friends; I only came to say goodbye to you, sister. That is, if you mean to abandon our home in its time of need."
    The accusation went straight to her heart, though she did not see her half-formed plans as abandoning her home. She merely wanted to go home, at last—home to England. “What do you mean?"
    "America needs all her sons—and daughters. If we are to throw off the British yoke, we must stand together."
    "Geoffrey—” Oh, dear. “Do you remember England at all, Geoff?"
    "Not much. Nor do I want to. My home is here—and so is yours. We need to fight for what is ours!"
    He had been reading the printed speeches of Mr. Henry again, Cynthia was sure of it. She sighed. “Brother, I wish the truth were that simple. You were only eight when we left England, and for you I imagine it was all a grand adventure. Papa and Winston had the business to occupy their time—"
    "Yes, I know,” he said, grinning. “I had a fine childhood, even if New Jersey was too tame for wild Indians. But I'm a man now—"
    "You are a wild Indian yourself,” she said, too agitated to be the indulgent older sister this time. “Geoffrey, the family is moving north. How do you think you can survive here, all alone?"
    "I'm going to join Washington's army,” he said. “Since Father's not selling the house, I thought I would stay here—"
    "How can you stay here if you are in an army?” she asked. “A soldier under orders must go where he is sent."
    "I'll think of something.” With the supreme confidence of youth, he brushed aside the matter of food, lodging, and military obligation. “Who's this Redcoat in the house?"
    "He's not a Redcoat, he is a naval officer,” she said. “And you might keep your voice down, unless you want to meet him directly."
    "So Father's quartering troops, is he?"
    "Hardly. Commander