John Master didn’t see Charlie White in the next couple of weeks. He once again asked James if he and Sam were meeting, but James had mumbled something evasive, so he’d let the matter drop. But he still might have looked in to see Charlie, if a small incident hadn’t occurred.

His son James at the age of thirteen might be somewhat diffident, but his daughter Susan, who was three years older, and possessed his own striking blond good looks, was already a confident and popular young woman who was attracting the interest of the men of New York. Susan had a cheerful, easy-going character, but she already knew exactly what she wanted—which was to marry a man with a good-sized estate in Westchester or Dutchess county. And given her looks and fortune, there was no reason why she shouldn’t.

So when the two young New Yorkers, both Yale men, came to dine at the house, Master had assumed that, with his daughter’s favor in prospect, they’d be equally anxious to get into his own good graces.

If only the conversation had not turned to the subject of universities.

If Massachusetts possessed Harvard College, and Connecticut had followed with Yale, New Yorkers came to think that they, too, should have a place of higher learning. So King’s College had been set up. It was only a small establishment, in the poor section of town where Charlie White lived—though it had pleasant gardens down to the Hudson River. Since Trinity Church had given the land for the college, the Trinity vestry reckoned it should be an Anglican foundation, and the English governor had agreed. But this had brought howls of rage from the other churches, especially the Presbyterians.

Most of the rich city merchants like Master belonged to the Anglican Church. The Trinity crowd, some called them. And it was true that the Trinity crowd dominated the Assembly and most of the best appointments. So this attempt to control the new seat of learning as well was seen by all the other congregations as a monstrous abuse. Presbyterians said it was a conspiracy. Even poor folk, who might have small interest in the university, hurled insults at the privileged Anglicans. Tempers had run high. Master considered the whole thing was blown out of all proportion. And a compromise had been reached. But the business exposed much bad feeling in the city, and the rumblings could still be heard.

The young Yale men had been Presbyterians. The discussion had become quite heated. And the young men had dared to insult him and call him a lackey of the governor—in his own house! He’d thrown them out after that, and Mercy and Susan had supported him. But for days afterward, John Master had felt irritable and ill at ease.