# Mistress Madcap Surrenders/Chapter 7

AFTER their early supper came the fun of getting ready for the rout! This pleasant duty took place in Cousin Eliza's room, where, lying in bed, she gaily superintended their dressing, advising them in the art of powdering their pretty hair and the placing of sundry coquettish black patches near smiling dimples.
"Put it near her mouth, Cherry—no, no, at the corner, so!" cried the lady smilingly. "And mind ye keep the corners quirked up in your nicest smile, Hitty, to go with the patch!"
"I doubt an Mother would like these patches!" observed Mehitable soberly. "I have heard her say she likes neither powder nor patches!"
"Not at ordinary times, my child," returned her cousin rather tartly. "But this be a rare occasion! Think, ye lucky lass, ye are actually to attend a party at which His Excellency might be present, though, of course, he will not dance an he come. And I know his lady will not be there, since she hath not yet arrived in Morris Town. Yet I doubt an it will be as grand as that ball the Hessians ​gave at my house in Trenton," she went on, referring to the memorable night when Washington crossed the Delaware and, surprising her "guests," took them prisoners.
"Master Gabriel told me Mistress Kitty Livingston, the daughter o' Governor Livingston, has come up from Liberty Hall in Elizabeth Town for the party, as have some o' her friends, and that she be an intimate o' Miss Schuyler's," said Mehitable, uttering a tremulous sigh of relief as Mistress Lindsley slipped the party gown over her head without disarranging her lightly powdered hair. "'Tis not as splendid as some o' your gorgeous ball gowns, Cousin Eliza," went on the girl a little wistfully, gazing at herself in the mirror as her hostess painstakingly played ladies' maid. For somehow, with the prospect of being seen in company with the Governor's daughter, her own simple little gown began to seem almost impossible!
"Nay, it is very nice, and you and Cherry, both, will look sweet and dainty, Hitty!" comforted Cousin Eliza. "Though I do wish we had my maid, Felice, here to deck ye out! She hath the French knack o' taking a bit o' ribbon and a bit o' lace and evolving a wondrous gown out o' them! Yes, I wish she were here!"
"So do I, Lizzie!" interrupted Mistress Lindsley, sucking a stuck finger and gazing rather dryly at her friend lying there in bed. "I vow, since I ​hath been making bread, my fingers are all thumbs!"
"Nay, ye are doing excellently well—the bodice be hard to fasten!" Mehitable assured her, concealing her impatience under a mantle of politeness. "However—mayhap Cherry could see better—the candle flickers so!" She turned to Charity who, in white shift and petticoat, stood patiently awaiting her turn to be helped into her gown.
In spite of fumbling fingers, and secret forebodings on Mehitable's part, at least, the girls were ready and waiting when John Condit and Young Cy arrived at the time stated in the note. And soon, with a girl seated upon a pillion behind each young man, they were trotting off up the lane toward Arnold's Tavern.
"Many o' the routs are held at the 'Continental House,' I am told, Cherry," chatted Young Cy as they went along. "That be the army storehouse General Washington hath built here in Morris Town. There is a vast room the length o' the building on the second floor, over the warerooms, which serves well for an assembly. But, of course, it is much nicer to have them at the Arnold Tavern, though more expensive," he added frankly.
Both girls stared in excited interest as they approached the inn. The three-cornered building, with its enormous chimney at each end and a long ​porch which extended the entire breadth across the front, with guests and yet more guests constantly arriving in the flaring lights of the lanthorns hung out for welcome, seemed very imposing to their country-bred eyes. As their escorts reined in their horses, they watched with interest, too, the fine ladies stepping out of sedan chairs, other mufiled forms being helped out of carts and down from pillions like their own, while many guests were approaching on foot, for carriages were very rare in those days.
Entering the wide hallway which divided the center of the house from back to front, John Condit led them up the stairs to a long room built over the kitchen and dining room in a rear extension. Adjoining this assembly room were two small rooms which, during the winter of 1777, when General Washington had had his quarters at this inn, he had used as a bedroom and office. Entering one of these rooms, now, the girls pushed their way through a crowd of chattering, silken-clad women to a mirror where they endeavored to smooth their hair and to repair the damage wintry winds had inflicted. Then, rather shyly, they met their escorts, who, sets for a minuet being formed at that moment, led them directly upon the dancing floor.
At one end of the big room were stationed the fiddlers. Around the hall, attended to by various persons who had attained admittance for the pur​pose, were placed tallow candles. These candles kept going out, had to be snuffed, trimmed, were constantly being replaced, so that half the time the place was but dimly lighted. In spite of drawbacks like this, however, the fiddles scraped mertrily, here was a lively hum of happy voices. Scattered French phrases met the girls' ears, for there were encamped at Morris Town many charming young Frenchmen who helped to plan social events.
Groups for a quadrille followed those of the minuet. Mehitable wondered where Captain Freeman was keeping himself. It was not until the evening was well advanced that, during a lull in the music, she looked up to see him standing near her, talking to a lady. Not once, however, though he was facing her as she leaned back in her chair, fanning herself with a trembling hand, did his eyes meet hers. Instead, they were fixed upon the countenance of his partner, a young lady dressed in the height of fashion who, simpering, seemed much flattered by his attention.
"How now, Tony?" Coming up behind him at that moment and obviously thinking him there to ask Mehitable for a dance, John Condit laughingly clapped Captain Freeman upon the shoulder. "Where hast been hiding thyself? Art besieging Hitty, here, for a dance?"
"I fear my standing is not good with Mistress ​Hitty," answered the other gravely, turning in a manner of studied courtesy toward them for a moment. "I dare not ask her for a dance!"
"Nay," cried John blunderingly, "ye must have one o' mine, then, Tony! I have at least three more wi' Hitty. What say ye to this minuet, which is but now forming on the floor?"
Captain Freeman, flushing a little, shook his head, however. "Nay," he returned, waving his hand negligently, "I would not deprive Mistress Hitty o' her brother's company for mine own poor one!" And bowing ironically, he was gone with his partner.
John Condit gave a low whistle. "Well, Hitty—what hast done?" he asked, giving her a curious look.
"Ye heard what he said!" Mehitable's head was held high. "It seems he does not wish to dance wi' me, forsooth!" And she faced the room with blazing cheeks, through a blur of tears, as John good-naturedly led her out for the next dance. How she walked through that minuet she never knew. Swaying, circling, curtseying—mechanically, she went through the pretty dance, praying that her wet lashes might not be noticed.
As though the gods were letting loose all their wrath, poor Mehitable had further hurts in store for her that night. John, seeking a glass of eggnog, had left her standing momentarily beside a ​group of gayly dressed young girls. They were arrayed, Mehitable was swift to notice, in the latest mode, with lavishly decked hair, with jewels and fans that bespoke wealth. Meeting their combined gaze, which seemed not too friendly, perhaps even rather gibing to one sensitive, Mehitable then looked around her uneasily for Charity; but that young person was not to be seen. The next instant a clear, critical voice came to her reddening ears.
"Kitty, Kitty—here, puss, puss, see the poor little country mouse! La, where do ye suppose she secured that gown!"
For a second, Mehitable's eyes blazed as she stared back at the rude group of girls. Then, as their scornful laughter sounded, she slowly turned away and sought a seat, her hands clenched tightly around Cousin Eliza's fan. When John found her a little later, she was fully composed, albeit a trifle pale around the mouth. But John noticed nothing amiss. He was laughing and chattering to a girl upon his arm, and when he had reached his sister, turned to her eagerly.
"Hitty, I want ye to know Mistress Kitty Livingston, Nancy's cousin, ye mind. Kitty, this be my little sister!" And he looked triumphantly from one to the other. "I wish Nancy were here!" he sighed, then—longing for the fiancée whose ​abode in New York made the intervals long between the lovers' meetings.
Mehitable stood rigid for a moment, then she sank to the floor in a stately, dignified curtsey. For Mistress Livingston had been in the center of that sneering group a few moments previous. A moment after that, though, she started forward impetuously. John was murmuring an excuse, was leaving the two girls alone together—she must stop him!—but he had disappeared into the crowd. And Mehitable stood staring miserably, self-consciously ahead of her. She was aroused by a white hand upon her arm.
"My dear," said Mistress Kitty appealingly, "ye are a foolish child to pay any attention to a person like Mistress Harriet Means and her ilk! I am sure she was nothing but jealous o' your pretty face!"
Mehitable lifted amazed eyes. "Then you—you—didn't——" she choked.
"I happened to be in the group," returned Mistress Kitty quietly, her kind, generous face full of concern. "One cannot always choose one's company in a crowded place like this. Think no more of what she said! I am sure most of us standing there admired both the gown and the maid who wore it!"
What could Mehitable do, Mistress Kitty draw​ing her gently down upon a chair beside her, but pour out the brave little story of the making of her gown! When she had finished, the other's eyes were shining.
"How proud—how very proud ye must be o' your mother!" she said softly.
"Aye, I am," commenced Mehitable, when all at once she stopped. Her companion, glancing at her in surprise, saw her staring down at her slipper with aghast eyes. "Why, it's gone!" stammered Mehitable. "It is gone!"
Mistress Kitty was full of instant concern. "Your buckle, ye mean?" she asked kindly.
"Aye," nodded Mehitable. She leaned over and searched the floor near her with desperate gaze. It was no use, however. Even as she looked, people came and went so that the cleared space of floor was constantly being shifted to another part.
"I fear ye will have to wait for the morrow, my dear!" Mistress Kitty told her at last. "Mayhap Colonel Arnold will have found it then. I see him yonder"—she rose kindly—"and will speak to him about it. Meanwhile, do not let it spoil your good time!" And, with a nod and smile, she was gone.
Poor Mehitable sat in silent, overwhelming despair, for all the other's words. She had lost Cousin Eliza's wedding buckle! That fact dulled everything. She did not even notice when Captain Freeman was led past her by the odious, trium​phant Mistress Means, who had happened to overhear the little tilt between them, and who now took that opportunity to humiliate Mehitable. Over and over, the music seemed to whine it—she had lost Cousin Eliza's buckle!
A man's voice finally aroused her. "Pardon, mistress—you have lost a buckle from your slipper? Yes, I see, it matches that on the other!"
Coming out of her daze of misery, Mehitable held out her hand eagerly. But the buckle was not placed in her palm. Looking up in surprise, then, she stared. And stared again. Gazing back at her coolly was the young bully of the Ranfield Tavern!