Mrs. Karricher said it would be wisest to bundle the girl and her child off at once, but the Captain didn’t like that. He would rather wait for a suitable excuse to discharge her. He had duly signed papers of his own making that so long as the girl remained and was industrious he would employ her and at the end of her service pay a lump sum to this French woman at Fort Detroit. In good time he would find justification to dismiss her but Mrs. Karricher couldn’t wait. She promised him a way to get rid of her before that. Oh, she wouldn’t pick an outright quarrel with her or she might wake up some night without hair. No, she had other means to convince an undesirable girl of the wisdom of taking French leave.

Captain Stanton didn’t know that he liked those means when he heard about them. On the other hand, he comforted himself that they might be the least painful solution for all parties concerned. He looked forward to their consummation. On several occasions Mrs. Karricher convinced him that his Indian maid and her brat would surely disappear during the night, but mornings they were still there, further evidence, if any more were needed, of the girl’s Indian blood, for it was well known how a savage could outwait a white man. The assemblyman didn’t like the situation. He was glad for Mary’s approaching marriage to occupy his mind, and for the fact that his mother planned to attend. Thaddeus Potter, the bridegroom, was bringing her along from Philadelphia and the son had in mind certain ways by which she might be of help to him.

He welcomed the news that the boat with his mother had been sighted. He notified Mary and his younger daughter, Nan. Then he put on a clean ruffled shirt, and all repaired to the riverbank. The water was high from the many rains, the current strong, and the polers had a hard time of it. Nan waited impatiently on one side of him while Mary stood with composure on the other, now and then fluttering a handkerchief to the approaching boat with the mild but personable young lawyer related to the Allens and sure to be favored by the Penns. Peter Stanton didn’t know as he looked with much favor on the young man’s small clothes and shoes with silver buckles. Bridegroom or no bridegroom, such trappings looked out of place here on the frontier. Just the same, there was a certain satisfaction for a rough citizen on the border to stand here between his two daughters and bask for a while in their rustling dresses and feminine chatter. It brought back to him fleeting memories of their mother in silk mitts and bonnet with the soft perfume of lavender about her and her gentlewoman’s voice in his ear.

The family reunion on the riverbank was watched by smiling boatmen and attendants from the inn who had come to help with traveling boxes and other plunder. Peter Stanton’s mother held up her wrinkled face to be kissed and told of her trip in Quaker accents that sounded singular here in the back-country depths of the province.