“They will, will they? I’d just like to see them!” Lettice’s eyes flamed, and she stamped her foot in rage.
“Why, Lettice, what a temper you display!” said Mrs. Hopkins, viewing Lettice’s angry tears with disapproval. “You never see Rhoda fairly cry with temper.”
Lettice’s remembrance of Rhoda’s reserved manner and her quiet self-control served to calm her. “I don’t care,” she said. “I know she boils inside, whether she shows it or not.” Then she sat very still for a time. A picture of Rhoda’s tranquil face with its small features, her smooth light hair, her neat slim figure, rose before her. She wondered if at that moment she and Robert Clinton were walking the streets of old Georgetown. From this her thoughts wandered to the old graveyard, and she jumped up with a suddenness that startled her aunt. “Do you suppose, Aunt Martha,” she said, “that Brother Tom wasn’t drowned after all?”
Mrs. Hopkins put down her work and looked at her niece in surprise. “What in the world gave you that notion, Lettice?”
“I don’t know. Often when I’ve been down in the graveyard at home I’ve thought of it.”
“His body was never recovered, it is true,” Mrs. Hopkins returned thoughtfully. “It is possible, but not probable, and I’d put any such notion out of my head, if I were you. He was not only a trial to your parents, but he was not a benefit to society.”
“No, he wasn’t, and yet, at his best, he was a dear fellow. No one was so thoughtful of mother, and no one ever loved me so much as Brother Tom. Nothing was too much trouble for him to do for others, and if he had let those wild fellows alone, he would have been all right.” Lettice’s eyes were full of tears again, but this time they were not tears of anger.
Her aunt viewed her with a puzzled smile. “How you do fly from one thing to another, child. One minute you are in a rage, and the next you are melted to tears of sorrow. Come, give that fantasy no more thought. Run down and tell Mrs. Flynn that she must not let that barrel of oysters go to waste, even if we have them three times a day. We have such a little family now that it is hard to dispose of things, but with prices so high, there is need of economy.” She sighed as she spoke, and Lettice, who had been planning an excuse to get back to the country, felt conscience-smitten, and would not suggest such a thing, now that she realized how utterly alone her aunt would be.
It was very dull for her in the quiet house, and Mrs. Hopkins would not allow her to have even Lutie. She endured Danny, to be sure, because his master had a fondness for the little fellow, and, moreover, he made himself useful in many ways. But Lettice spent a tedious winter, and though she tried to be patient, and did enjoy a few frolics, she was glad to see the first signs of spring.
All through the winter had come cheering reports of naval victories of more or less importance. Many prizes had been brought in by the Baltimore privateers and letters-of-marque, for this city took the lead in sending out such vessels. From the port of New York came the news that Joseph had been successful in capturing more than one English vessel, and had taken them into the Northern ports. Thirteen merchant vessels were captured off the coast of Spain by one Baltimore ship alone, and this record was equalled by more than one gallant cruiser. Not a day passed but news arrived of some valiant sea-fight. In February Bainbridge took the Java. In March the Hornet worsted the Peacock, and the names of Hull and Decatur, Bainbridge and Jones, were on every one’s lips. Throughout all this naval warfare Baltimore was foremost in energetically showing fight, and against the state of Maryland, in consequence, the strongest enmity of the foe seemed to be directed.