Lettice watched him wistfully, not knowing what to say to this discouraging tale. “Barney’s marines at least did good service,” at last she said dolefully to Patsey in an undertone, “and I am sure my brother would have stood his ground if he could, even if the others did run away.” William smiled grimly, and appeared to come to his senses. “I am not here to excuse myself,” he said, “but to get you girls out of the city as quickly as possible. The enemy are coming.” “Truly? Here?” they cried, each grasping an arm, and looking at him in alarm. “Truly indeed.” He shook his head with rage, and bit his lip fiercely. “War on paper, in truth. A pothering, chattering set of civilians, without an idea of how war should be carried on, have allowed the enemy to rout us, to beat us, to enter our capital. But there, girls, I’ll not stop to vent my anger now. You must hurry over to Georgetown as quickly as you can. We’ll not be the first. Listen!” He threw open a shutter, and the girls looked forth, to see a terrified crowd of people flocking from every direction. Wagons loaded with household goods were rumbling past the house, all moving in the direction of Georgetown. Patsey fled from the room. Below stairs already could be heard a commotion of the removing of heavy furniture, of opening and shutting of doors, of hurried footsteps. “Get your things together, Lettice,” said her brother. “I will go below and see if I can help Mrs. Gittings to get away. Where is Steve Gittings?” “He is with the militia,” Lettice told him. “You mean _was_,” returned her brother, his grim humor not deserting him. “Probably he cannot run as fast as I, or he would be here by this.” Lettice for answer took his hand and laid her cheek against it. “You are so tired,” she said. “Come, rest awhile. It must have been terrible, marching in this dust and heat.” “It was, but--if there had been any one to tell us what to do or where to go, stiff, choking, miserable as we were, we could have maintained our places; but it was simply a rabble, with nothing but confused orders and no real head. What could we do?” He suddenly broke down and, to Lettice’s distress, sobbed like a child. She slipped from the room, and although Patsey and her sister were hurrying to get their most valuable possessions together, she managed to get a glass of raspberry shrub and a bit of bread to take to her brother, for hunger was added to his other discomforts. She found that he had regained his self-control and was busying himself in helping the family to depart. Mrs. Gittings, for the sake of her children, consented to flee. “But if Steve comes, how will he know where we are?” she complained. “He will know you are safe, and I am going to stay and see the end of this; as soon as I get you safely over the bridge, I mean to come back here,” William told her. Lettice gave a half-suppressed, “Oh!”