The men looked at each other and were silent, then William, caressing the top of his little son’s silky head, said, “If they do, we’ll defend our homes to the last drop of blood.”
“And you’ll not leave us, William?” said Betty, scanning his face eagerly.
“My place is near home, I have determined,” he replied, smiling down at her.
The next few days brought tales of further marauding; tales of such horror that Betty and Lettice clung to each other in terror. And, indeed, the atrocities committed were such that in some places the word “Hampton” was used instead of “Attention” to call the men to order, and the accounts of the terrible ravages lessened greatly the number of those who opposed the war.
But as days went by and no Cockburn appeared, the fears even of those most easily frightened were quelled, and affairs went on as usual.
“It’s desperately tiresome, this staying at home,” Lettice said to her brother James. “I don’t mean to do it any longer. Would there be any harm, do you think, in our going out for a wee bit of a way on the water? We know full well that the British are away down the bay, and I haven’t had a sail this many a day. Do take me out, Jamie, or I’ll go alone.” It was a lovely morning in July, somewhat warm, and promising greater heat. Lettice sat discontentedly on the lower step of the porch, looking off toward the creek.
“You’ll not go alone,” said James, swinging his long legs over the railing of the porch, and sitting down beside her.
“Then you’ll take me.”
“Yes; there’s not a sail in sight, and I reckon we’ll have it all to ourselves, besides—”
“Besides what?”