Bunker Hill, Battle of, Boston, Mass., 1775 -- Juvenile fiction; United States -- History -- Revolution, 1775-1783 -- Juvenile fiction
And then suddenly, to her own horror, in spite of the awe she felt for
this handsome young stranger from the enemy camp, in spite of the need
to keep this tryst in silence and secrecy, she began to giggle. She
couldn’t help it when she thought of Sally Rose trapped in the stays;
of her pretty, angry face on top of the body of a pinched white worm.
She put both hands to her mouth and rocked and rocked with stifled
mirth.
Then she realized that he was shaking her. “Stop it, Kitty, if that’s
your name,” he said. His voice was firm but not unkind. “Where’s Sally
Rose? Tell me what you are laughing at? I want to laugh, too.”
He had put the lantern down and was holding her by both shoulders. She
could not see his face, and yet she knew what he looked like. She would
always remember him, she thought, from that day when he marched past
the Bay and Beagle and she was standing at the door. Suddenly she found
herself telling him all about the stays and Sally Rose.
He kept very quiet until she had finished, but then he did not laugh
as she had expected him to do. When he spoke again, his voice had an
impatient sound.
“I’ve often heard the men in barracks say--the married men, that
is--that women have no sense at all. And I guess they be right. I’m
sorry Sally Rose did such a foolish thing. I--I wanted--tonight it
really mattered that I should see her.”
“But she will be here tomorrow night, sir,” answered Kitty, not quite
sure how one addressed a British officer who pretended not to be a
British officer. “It will be such a little time till then.”
“A little time,” he muttered, “but much may happen in it. I may be here
tomorrow night--but I trust she will not be.”
“What do you mean?” faltered Kitty.
A bough rustled a few yards off, and he flashed his lantern that way
and listened. After a moment he spoke again in a lower tone.
“How does it happen you womenfolk are still in Charlestown? I
understood that it had been evacuated.”
“Oh, it has been--nearly. But Granny says she will not abandon my
uncle’s property here until she must. She says she will stay and try to
keep it intact for him, if she can.”
“It’s been known since April that we might burn the town any day.”
“I know. But time goes on, and you do not do it, and we grow less
afraid. And all the while our Army is growing larger and more strong.”
“So is ours,” he retorted. “Three new generals arrived from England;
martial law proclaimed in Boston yesterday. General Gage denounced you
for rebels and traitors. If you don’t disband and go your ways in peace
soon, we’re coming out to make you go.”
“Then I suppose there will be a battle,” sighed Kitty. “I’ll never
know why it is men can’t settle a squabble without trying to kill each
other.”
Again he flashed the lantern on her face and held it there a moment.
Then he spoke to her from out of the dark, and his voice had a
different sound.
“You know--Kitty--I don’t think I understand it either. I never really
wanted to be a soldier.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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