It was in April that Rhoda and her father announced that they would return to Baltimore, and then Lettice saw that her desire to go home could be granted, and she wrote to her brother James to come for her. James, nothing loath, responded at once, so that he arrived in time to welcome Rhoda. Under her father’s watchful eye Rhoda was not very demonstrative in her greetings, and Mr. Clinton, following close in her wake, was not received with much enthusiasm by Lettice—a fact he was not slow to notice and to comment upon.
“I am coming down to Sylvia’s Ramble again,” he whispered to Lettice.
“When Rhoda comes, I suppose,” Lettice returned in chilling tones.
“Don’t be jealous,” Mr. Clinton begged.
Lettice turned upon him with scornful eyes. “Jealous! I jealous? You are vastly mistaken, sir!” and not another word did she vouchsafe him the remainder of the day.
The next morning early she and James started down the bay on one of the packets running from Baltimore to Queenstown. It did not seem possible to those whose plantations lay along the inland creeks that the enemy could have any object in penetrating into their part of the country; yet at that very time the British were ravaging the southern shores of the Chesapeake, plundering plantations, and carrying off not only slaves and household valuables, but even robbing women and children of their clothing. In spite of their straits but little protection was given them by the government—this partly because it was not able—and the unfortunate inhabitants had to protect themselves as best they could.
On the morning that Lettice and her brother departed there were lively preparations going on in the city of Baltimore. Lookout boats were established far down the river; troops were stationed along the shores, for the news had come that the enemy was approaching, and that Baltimore was to be the object of attack.
Mrs. Hopkins and the newly arrived visitors absolutely refused to venture down the bay. “We will escape in another direction, if need be,” they said.
“You mean you will stay to welcome your friends, the British,” Lettice said saucily. “That’s not what I will do. If we are to meet them, let it be in our own home.”
“Pray, Miss Lettice,” Mr. Clinton said, “remain with us. We will have the means to protect you and your brother—a means which may be lacking when you pass beyond our influence.”