Never before had I felt displeased with anything Jethro did; but on this day it would have been more to my liking had he been back in Philadelphia, for it was in my mind that he held far too much conversation with Amy, leaving me on the outside.

However, I believed it my duty to tell her that we two lads were not of the same cloth as he who had brought us hither, and explained that we held no place in William Penn's household, save during this visit to Maryland.

Jethro would have checked me with a glance when I went on to tell of our making nails, of trapping turkeys, or of learning to spin in Enoch Flower's school; but I was minded she should take us for what we really were, instead of judging by the fine clothes we wore only during the time we were of William Penn's following. It was while we were talking of our city in Pennsylvania that Jethro spoke to me as Stephen of Philadelphia, whereupon the girl broke into a hearty laugh, declaring we must be cousins, at least, since his lordship had insisted that she be known as Amy of Maryland.

When I pressed her to know why the name had been given her, she flushed rosy red, refusing to make reply, whereupon I plucked up courage enough to say I believed it was because she was the daintiest and the sweetest to be found in the colony. Then her face grew even a deeper red, and, as if to turn the subject, she proposed that we walk about the city.