The tears stood in Mistress Condit's eyes.
"Ah, Samuel," she exclaimed piteously, turning to her husband, "if they are all gone! I have been denying you and the poor girls everything, hoping to get these supplies to John's company and perchance to General Washington himself!"
"Ah, well, Mary, do not cross bridges until they are reached," answered the Squire consolingly.
"Perhaps the Hessians did not reach our place," offered Charity, whose tender little heart was wrung at sight of her mother's agitation.
"If only I had stayed and—and—rawhided the brutes!" exploded Mehitable, doubling her fists, her cheeks turning scarlet.
Young Cy paused to chuckle at her warlike attitude. Then he turned to Mistress Condit.
"'Tis useless to hope the Hessians did not reach your house," he said, pity in his manly young voice. "I passed there on my way up here."
"And how was it?" asked the Squire eagerly.
"Wait and see. I cannot do more than warn ye," answered Young Cy evasively, plainly fearing tears upon the part of Mistress Condit.
So they hurriedly packed the cart, and with Charity and her mother again riding and Mehitable once more astride Dulcie, with the others mounted as before, they descended from their mountain retreat.
Desolate silence reigned as they involuntarily stopped when their home first came into sight. Then Charity hid her face in her mother's shoulder and commenced to weep quietly.
