“They would have to catch me first, my dear. If I see them first I’ll be safe enough,” he replied, and Roxy gave a little sigh of satisfaction as she sat down beside him.
“I’ll tell you the minute I see them,” she promised soberly, and Roxy thought to herself how wonderful it would be if she could really do something to help her soldier father: perhaps save him from that dreaded prison from which the Yankee boy had escaped.
That night the talk was of invading armies, and of the danger that seemed to threaten Washington; and Roxy, curled up on the old sofa in the sitting-room, again resolved that she would not fail in her plan to be at the ledge at an early hour the next morning. She began to wish that she had told Polly of her plan.
“Polly always thinks of things that I don’t: of signals, and all sorts of things,” thought Roxy; and at the remembrance of signals a new idea flashed into her mind. She must tell Polly as soon as she could, and she could signal Polly from the ledge. That would be splendid. Roxy no longer felt tired or sleepy. She jumped up from the sofa and if at that very moment her mother had not said: “Bedtime and past, Roxy,” the little girl would have been eager to start off across the pastures to tell her friend of the new plan.
“Why, Roxy! Your eyes are shining, and your face is flushed; are you ill?” exclaimed Mrs. Delfield as the little girl stood beside her.
“No, only I wish it was morning. I want to tell Polly something. I am going to get up at daylight and go over to Polly’s; may I?” Roxy asked.
“Why, yes. And ask Polly if she and her mother mean to stay at home. Tell her to come here at any time if we can help them.”
“Yes, Mother! Polly can signal if she wants me,” Roxy answered.
“‘Signal’?” questioned Captain Delfield, and listened to Roxy’s description of the signals the two girls had arranged from their upper windows.
“Better not let any soldiers discover your signals,” he said smilingly. “You know that is the way armies direct attacks, by signals.”