“Ain’ I jes’ tole you? He got clare out ob sight, an’ he tuk de extra hoss! Yas’m, he was right clever, dat Yankee feller was. I spect he’s in Sharpsburg ’fore dis time.”
Roxy smiled so radiantly as she turned toward her mother that Mrs. Delfield smiled in response, well pleased that her little daughter should forget the fear and excitement of her adventure.
“What became of Polly Lawrence?” asked Mrs. Miller.
“Oh! Miss Polly jes’ druv toward home. She didn’ wait fer de gray coats to get back either,” and Dulcie went off chuckling with satisfaction.
“Well, Roxy, I think the Yankee boy owes his escape to you,” declared Mrs. Miller. “Your running off made the soldiers think you could tell them of the escaped prisoner, and so they ran after you, and that gave the man his chance.”
“As if the child could know——” began Mrs. Delfield, but was interrupted by an outcry from the cellar, and Dulcie’s complaining voice as she made her heavy way up the stairs and came hurrying to the sitting-room.
“What can be the matter now?” exclaimed Mrs. Miller, starting toward the door.
“Ole Miss—Ole Miss! We’s robbed! Yas’m!” exclaimed Dulcie, nearly breathless. “My roas’ chicken bin stole. Yas’m! An’ I cayn’t lay eyes on my egg baskit, an’ my bread am took!” and Dulcie stood rolling her frightened eyes and trembling with excitement.
“Why, Dulcie! It can’t be! I have never had a thing taken from the house in all my life,” declared Mrs. Miller, and with Dulcie beside her she hurried off to the kitchen.
Roxy gave a little exclamation, and Mrs. Delfield hastened to assure her that probably Dulcie was mistaken, and had forgotten where she had set the food. But the little girl seemed so troubled, so grave and quiet, that her mother felt anxious.