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Updated: May 22, 2025
But Madam Wetherill knew if he had been in love with Rachel he would have made some overtures himself. Primrose studied the subject within her heart and was quite grave over it. For two days they did not see him and on the third a messenger came with a note. The permission to join Washington had arrived suddenly and they were to march at once.
It was noon when Madam Wetherill returned. Attorney Chew had been in with some new plans that were quite wonderful. "And Captain Vane to say good-by. What friends he and Phil are! But he is a soldier born, if ever there was one. And he looked so fine and spirited. He said he had been here." "For a few minutes, yes.
And now her father's farm had been despoiled and he rendered homeless, her husband had been killed in battle, and they had made their way northward, hoping to find a friend in Madam Wetherill. Nor were they mistaken. There were the two elderly people, Betty and her babies, and a younger sister. The only son was in General Greene's army. "There is plenty of room at the farm," said Madam Wetherill.
"We shall never finish our game with so much talk about everybody," declared one of the Tory ladies in vexation. "She is not commanding." Madam Wetherill laid down her card as she smiled, and trumped her adversary.
I want Patty and Aunt Wetherill, and little Joe, who is always doing such funny things, and Mistress Kent whips him, but he does them over when she is not there, only she comes suddenly and the pretty ladies who laugh and talk. It is so dreary here." She raised her lovely eyes that were to conquer many a heart later on, and the lips quivered in entreaty like an opening rose in the breeze.
"We have spoiled her with much indulgence." "Indeed, I am not spoiled. And if the British should take away all we had, dear aunt, I would work for thee. I do know many things." "Dear heart!" and Madam Wetherill kissed her. There was much interest to see Mrs. Washington, though some of the ladies had met her on a previous visit.
White, preach at Christ Church, and would not go to Meeting, despite Samuel Wetherill, whose Society of Free Quakers did not come to life until 1780. Meanwhile by degrees I took to wearing finer garments. Cards I would never touch, nor have I often, to this day.
Wetherill told a story of an old Navajo who had lived there. For a long time, according to the Indian tale, the old chief resided there without complaining of this geyser that was wont to inundate his fields. But one season the unreliable waterspout made great and persistent endeavor to drown him and his people and horses.
"Through it I escaped without harm, but I found afterward they had more proof than I could have safely met. And when I arrived at camp I dispatched a messenger to my father, telling him of my changed mind and plans for the future." "And he was angry enough!" interposed Madam Wetherill. "It was worse than that. Mere anger is, perhaps, outlived.
Wetherill I had come, as without him I could not have done, to see how much there was of the beautiful and noble in the creed of Fox and Penn, how much, too, there was in it to cramp enterprise, to limit the innocent joys of life, to render progress impossible, and submission to every base man or government a duty.
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