"No, no! Forgive me, Mary," he said then. "I did not mean to alarm you. No, it's not John. 'Tis this! Young Cy Jones is riding to warn the farmers. His father and family, as well as the family of Jotham Harrison, have been forced to flee to the mountains this day. There is a Hessian raid afoot and he advises us to go, too. No telling what these Hessians will do, although ostensibly they are merely after supplies. They are an uncouth, rough lot. They have already taken possession of the Harrisons' place—Jotham told the Joneses—and he said, e'en before he had left, salt hay had been brought in from the barn and spread upon the floor of the house for the horses and their riders!"
"Poor Mistress Harrison!" Mary Condit clasped her hands in sympathy. "And 'twas a new floor just laid by Mr. Harrison last year. I mind how monstrous proud she was of it—how polished and waxed she kept it. But go on, Samuel! I interrupt!"
"That is all, Mary." Squire Condit resumed his restless pacing with a down-hearted gesture.
"But are we to flee, Father?" Mehitable, wide-eyed, crept from her corner.
Mistress Condit suddenly nodded her head decidedly.
"Aye, Hitty, we are to flee," she said.
Squire Condit paused to stare at his wife.
"Ye think it wise, Mary?" he questioned anxiously.
"One does not trust these Hessians," answered Mistress Condit grimly. And set to work at once to collect her valuables.
There ensued a busy hour. Back and forth trotted Charity Mehitable, their arms piled high with
