Janice Meredith: A Story of the American RevolutionFord, Paul Leicester
History
Janice Meredith: A Story of the American Revolution
Ford, Paul Leicester
United States -- History -- Revolution, 1775-1783 -- Fiction
"They are still falling back on their supports," remarked
Greene. "Evidently there is to be no more fighting to-day."
"They've had their bellyful, I guess," surmised Putnam.
"Then they 're better off than I am," groaned Brereton.
"I could eat an ox."
When the fact became obvious that the British had no intention
of renewing their intended attack, a general move was
made toward quarters, and as they rode Brereton pushed up
beside Washington and talked with him for a moment.
The commander ended the interview by nodding his head.
"Colonel Tilghman," he ordered, as Brereton dropped behind,
"ride on to announce our coming; also present my
compliments to Mr. Meredith and bespeak his company and
that of his ladies to dinner."
Mrs. Meredith and Janice, not having gone to bed till after
one the previous night, slept until they were wakened by the
firing; and when they had dressed and descended it was to
find headquarters practically deserted, save for the squire and
a corporal 's guard. At the suggestion of the servant who gave
them breakfast, they climbed to the cupola of the house, but
all they could see of the skirmish were the little clouds of
smoke that rose above the trees and the distant advance of
the British reinforcements. Presently even these ceased or
passed from view, and then succeeded what Janice thought a
very "mopish" two hours, terminated at last by the arrival of
the aide with his invitation, which sent her to her room for a
little extra prinking.
"If I had only worn my lutestring," she sighed. Her toilet
finished,--and the process had been lengthened by the trembling
of her hands,--Janice descended falteringly to go through
the hall to the veranda. In the doorway she paused, really
taken aback by the number of men grouped about on the grass;
and she stood there, with fifty eyes turned upon her, the
picture of embarrassment, hesitating whether to run away
and hide.
"Come hither, child," called her mother; and Janice, with
a burning face and down-turned eyes, sped to her side.
"This is my daughter Janice, your Excellency," she told the
tall man with whom she had been speaking.
"Indeed, madam," said Washington, bowing politely over
the girl 's hand, and then looking her in the face with
pleasure. "My staff has had quite danger enough this morning
without my subjecting them to this new menace. However,
being lads of spirit, they will only blame me if I seek
to spare them. Look at the eagerness of the blades for the
engagement," he added with a laugh, as he turned to where
the youngsters were idling about within call.
"Oh, your Excellency!" gasped Janice, "I--I--please
may n't I talk to you?"
"Janice!" reproved her mother.
"Oh! I did n't mean that, of course," faltered the girl.
"'T was monstrous bold, and I only wanted--"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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