“My mother had spoken and written to me, more than once, of the plight of her cousins who were alone and helpless in Boston and in great distress. The British have been allowing the women and the non-combatants to go forth, but held back all the able-bodied men, so these two were free to go but, the mother being ill and the daughter timid, the task of passing the lines alone seemed more than they could undertake. The matter of coming to them looked hopeless for a time, but in the end was simple enough. Certain market gardeners, living on the outskirts of Boston but within the besieged circle, still sell their wares in the town, and most welcome they are. One of these gardeners is David Thurston’s brother, and, although the man himself is with our army, his wife is carrying on the business to keep herself and the children from starving. To this house, therefore, I stole in the night, was given the clothes of the gardener’s boy and, in broad daylight, drove into the town, mounted on a load of turnips and cabbages. Faith, soldiers and civilians alike were so glad to see aught that they could eat, that they had no eyes for the lad who brought it.” “It was something of an undertaking,” commented Stephen. “You ran the risk of being arrested as a spy, which is no pleasant fate.” “I think you dared most nobly,” cried Clotilde, her eyes bright with eagerness to hear the rest of the story, “and oh, what fun it must have been to go through the streets crying turnips and cabbages!” “Ay, it was for a time,” said the boy, “and my first mark of stupidity was that I delayed my errand merely to enjoy myself and loitered about far too long, watching the swaggering, red-coated soldiers and the Hessians drilling on the Common. Presently, however, there passed a man in a Captain’s uniform who looked at me so long and keenly that I whipped up my horses, turned the nearest corner and drove rattling down the street to Cousin Betsey’s house. “The two women were so overjoyed and so astonished at seeing me that, for a space, I thought they would never let themselves be rescued, so busy were they weeping for gladness that I had come and for terror lest I should not get safely away again. But at last, when it began to grow dark, we made the sick woman comfortable on a mattress in the wagon, packed in as much of their household stuff as we dared carry, and set off.