who, assisted by a group of laughing officers, was preparing the usual corn-meal bread from meal they had been forced to buy from Squire Briggs, moved over to stand before the great man.
"My—my—name is—Mehitable," she stammered huskily.
Her voice came only with an effort.
"Mehitable," repeated His Excellency. "A strong, sensible name."
"But I hate it!" said Mehitable unexpectedly. She spoke in a fierce little whisper. "Why couldn't my mother have named me Angeline or Janice or even P-Polly!" Then she stopped in confusion. Oh, what would her mother say to her speaking thus to a stranger and such a famous stranger! Whatever had possessed her to blurt out that which she had never breathed before, even to Charity—her secret dislike of her "strong, sensible name."
She stood silent, then, with downcast eyes, while the scarlet flooded her cheeks, waiting for the words which, in all justice, should rebuke her. But instead, there was a pause, and at last she raised her eyes.
"Ah, my child," said General Washington, then, and his eyes twinkled above his grave mouth, "lean forward while I whisper thee a secret!"
Mehitable obediently turned her pink ear toward him.
"I do dislike my name, too!" whispered His Excellency, chuckling.
She started back in surprise; but General Washington shook his head.
"'Tis a secret between you and me," he said gently.
"A secret!" said a laughing voice behind them, and
