“Are you headed for Newburyport? Is the battle over? Where are the British?” she wanted to know. The leader took off his cocked hat, and Kitty noticed that he had a bald head and very black eyes. “We begin to think the British are in Boston and have been there all along, that they never stirred from there. We have found no trace of them, and we scoured the countryside. The whole commotion is either a sorry jest or a coward’s error, it seems. At least, we have recovered sufficient courage to ride back toward Ipswich and see.” “I suspected as much,” said Gran, tightening her mouth. “Ho hum!” said Sally Rose. The men rode off, and Gran pulled the wagon to one side of the road. They were facing a small common with a white steepled church at the edge of it. Houses clustered round about, darkened and deserted, their doors hanging open, their inhabitants fled away. Overhead the elm boughs tossed eerily in the light of the cold moon. “Get out, girls, and stretch your legs,” Gran ordered. “Then I’m going to turn around and drive back to my own house at the Port. You can come with me, Nance, if you’re afraid to bide at home.” “I’m not afraid any more,” said Nance wanly. “Not if the British are still in Boston. Do you think they are still in Boston, Ma’am Greenleaf?” “I feel sure of it,” declared Gran firmly. “Well, the Bible says the young men shall dream dreams. That’s what that lad who said he rode over twenty dead bodies must ha’ done. Let’s all go over to the church steps and give thanks to God. Dream, joke, or error, I don’t care which it was. It’s over now, and high time we went home.” The two children were asleep on the seat of the wagon, but Nance carried the shawl-wrapped baby and held it in her arms as they knelt on the church steps of gray old stone. Gran lifted up voluble thanks to the Almighty, and Kitty’s attention wandered. She watched a husky youth who had been hiding in the crotch of a pear tree climb sheepishly down and sidle off, gnawing a piece of salt pork. He had apparently taken provisions to his refuge, in case the British kept him treed for a long time. The sight of the pork made her hungry, and Nance must have seen it, too, and thought of food, but not for herself. The minute Gran rose from her knees, she asked if they could wait while she suckled the baby. “Why of course,” said Gran heartily. “My, there’s not been one peep out of the little thing. I trust it hasn’t got smothered in all this uproar.” Nancy sat down on the step, carefully pulled the shawls away, and bent her head while the others stood looking on. Suddenly she screamed. They peered closer. “God save our souls alive!” gasped Granny. Sally Rose giggled. Kitty swallowed and made no sound at all. In her haste Nance had wrapped up the wrong creature, and now it was the half-grown yellow cat that slept peacefully in the crook of her arm. _Chapter Six_ FUN WHILE IT LASTED