“Tony,” said his aunt, as she took two shining pewter platters from the dresser and placed them on the table, “have you or Larry come across my spectacles anywhere?” “No, ma’am.” “Well, perhaps I left them at meeting last Sunday. Never mind. I want you to go up garret and bring me that big bunch of herbs hanging by the east window.” Tony glanced toward the kitchen window and was relieved to find it was still quite light. He was always shy of the old, open garret even in the daytime. He never liked to play there as well as his brother Larry and the other boys. The long rows of cloaks and coats and gowns swinging from their pegs in the dimly lighted space under the rafters had a look that made him feel as if they might spring out at him as he passed. And there were certain other things there which helped to increase Tony’s dread of the garret. There were an old chest in the corner containing the uniform of Tony’s great uncle who had served as captain in the early French and Indian wars, and a rusty sword and tomahawk hanging from a nail in the huge beam overhead. The sword had two or three suggestive notches in the long blade, and on the wooden handle of the tomahawk which had once belonged to a ferocious Indian chief were several suspicious-looking brown stains. Larry liked to handle these relics, but the mere sight of them always sent shivers creeping down Tony’s back. “Make haste, Tony, and bring the herbs before it grows any darker,” continued his aunt. “I never like to go up garret with a light; it’s dangerous business. I am worried and nervous, and I want a bowl of hot herb tea.” Tony stopped, his thumb on the latch. “What is it that worries you so?” he asked in his sweet, sympathetic voice. “A thousand things, child, you wouldn’t understand if I told you--the dread of what’s coming--the loss of property and friends--life itself perhaps. But we’ll hope for the best. The king may yet repent and try to do what is right by us. But we don’t know--we don’t know.” It was the December of 1774, five months before Lexington, the first battle of the American Revolution. Throughout the colonies there was a growing feeling of uneasiness and indignation. The colonists were too much attached to the mother country to wish for war. Morning and night they prayed that God would show them some peaceful way out of the trouble. But the king had taken away so many of their rights and laid taxes so heavy and unjust upon them that it began to look as if the only thing to do was to fight him. The people of New Hampshire, where Larry and Tony lived, were especially excited and alarmed, for they were so near Boston that they sympathized heartily with that much-wronged city which seemed to have been singled out as a mark for special spite.