Children -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction; Children's stories; Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction
"That's the way we serve spies!"
Before Ensign De Bernicre--for it was he, acting as guide to the
enemy--could clear his eyes and dry his drenched face, Tabby was gone
over the hill with a laugh and a defiant gesture toward the red-coats
below.
In high feather at this exploit, she darted about the town, watching the
British at their work of destruction. They cut down and burnt the
liberty pole, broke open sixty barrels of flour, flung five hundred
pounds of balls into the mill-pond and wells, and set the court-house on
fire. Other parties were ordered to different quarters of the town to
ransack houses and destroy all the stores they found. Captain Parsons
was sent to take possession of the North Bridge, and De Bernicre led the
way, for he had taken notes on his former visit, and was a good guide.
As they marched, a little scarlet figure went flying on before them, and
vanished at the turn of the road. It was Tabby hastening home to warn
her aunt.
"Quick child, whip on this gown and cap and hurry into bed. These prying
fellows will surely have pity on a sick girl, and respect this room if
no other," said Mrs. Brown, briskly helping Tabby into a short
night-gown and round cap, and tucking her well up when she was laid
down, for between the plump feather-beds were hidden many muskets, the
most precious of their stores. This had been planned beforehand, and
Tabby was glad to rest and tell her tale while Aunty Brown put physic
bottles and glasses on the table, set some evil-smelling herbs to simmer
on the hearth, and, compromising with her conscience, concocted a nice
little story to tell the invaders.
Presently they came, and it was well for Tabby that the ensign remained
below to guard the doors while the men ransacked the house from garret
to cellar; for he might have recognized the saucy girl who had twice
maltreated him.
"These are feathers; lift the covers carefully or you'll be half
smothered, they fly about so," said Mrs. Brown, as the men came to some
casks of cartridges and flints, which she had artfully ripped up several
pillows to conceal.
Quite deceived, the men gladly passed on, leaving the very things they
most wanted to destroy. Coming to the bed-room, where more treasures of
the same valuable sort were hidden in various nooks and corners, the
dame held up her finger, saying, with an anxious glance toward Tabby:--
"Step softly, please. You wouldn't harm a poor, sick girl. The doctor
thinks it is small-pox, and a fright might kill her. I keep the chamber
as fresh as I can with yarbs, so I guess there isn't much danger of
catching it."
The men reluctantly looked in, saw a flushed face on the pillow (for
Tabby was red with running, and her black eyes wild with excitement),
took a sniff at the wormwood and motherwort, and with a hasty glance
into a closet or two where sundry clothes concealed hidden doors,
hastily retired to report the danger and get away as soon as possible.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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