The next few days brought tales of further marauding; tales of such horror that Betty and Lettice clung to each other in terror. And, indeed, the atrocities committed were such that in some places the word “Hampton” was used instead of “Attention” to call the men to order, and the accounts of the terrible ravages lessened greatly the number of those who opposed the war. But as days went by and no Cockburn appeared, the fears even of those most easily frightened were quelled, and affairs went on as usual. “It’s desperately tiresome, this staying at home,” Lettice said to her brother James. “I don’t mean to do it any longer. Would there be any harm, do you think, in our going out for a wee bit of a way on the water? We know full well that the British are away down the bay, and I haven’t had a sail this many a day. Do take me out, Jamie, or I’ll go alone.” It was a lovely morning in July, somewhat warm, and promising greater heat. Lettice sat discontentedly on the lower step of the porch, looking off toward the creek. “You’ll not go alone,” said James, swinging his long legs over the railing of the porch, and sitting down beside her. “Then you’ll take me.” “Yes; there’s not a sail in sight, and I reckon we’ll have it all to ourselves, besides--” “Besides what?” “I think I’d like to be at Queenstown when the boat comes in.” Lettice turned and looked at him. “Why? You have a reason. I see it in your eyes.” “So I have.” He took a letter from his pocket and held it off at a little distance. Lettice made a grab for it, but he caught her hand, and laughing, held her firmly. “It isn’t for you,” he said. “Whose is it, then?” “Mine.” “Let me see the handwriting. Please do, Jamie.” He held the letter at a careful distance, and she read the address in Rhoda’s neat hand: Mr. James Hopkins. “From Rhoda! Oh, is she coming down on the packet?” “Yes, so the letter says, and will I meet her and Aunt Martha. It seems that Aunt Martha has been ill, and the city is hot, so she thinks she may venture down to this neighborhood; unwisely, I think, with the enemy so near and ready to pounce on us at any moment.” “Now, James, quit talking so to scare me. And where is Rhoda’s devoted cavalier, that she must call on you for an escort?” “I do not know where he is; her father has gone to Philadelphia, and probably the young man is there too; they seem to travel in company.” “I wonder if they went on the new steamboat. I should think they would go that way; such a novelty as it is.” “Perhaps they did; Rhoda does not say.” “Well come, then; if we are to meet the packet, we ought to be off. I hope there will be news from father. It seems a long time between letters, and so very long since we have seen him. I think I will take Lutie along with me, and we can stay all night at Sylvia’s Ramble. I’ll run in while you get the boat ready and tell Sister Betty that we are going.” “Don’t go, Letty,” Betty advised. “Suppose you should encounter the British.”