“It’s hardly safe to fly a flag from your piazza, Prudence,” sensible William had warned. So Prudence opened the drawer only when she had a little spare time. Then she would kneel down on the rag carpet in front of the drawer and hold the beloved Stars and Stripes tenderly in her arms.
“I love every star, and every color,” she would say to herself. “Oh, may God win the battle for us and help to give me back my father, and William his brother John!”
The next morning, when Prudence set the tray with her mother’s breakfast, she laid it with unusual care. Upon the sun-bleached linen cloth stood the thin china dishes, white with a pattern of raised bunches of grapes in purple and green. The silver spoons and forks were arranged neatly. Prudence’s mother, sitting in a big arm chair by the window where the sweet odors of the garden roses were blown up to her, looked lovingly at her small daughter.
“You are a good little housewife, my dear,” she said. “I don’t know what I should have done without you. Father will find his little girl almost a little woman when he returns.” She paused a moment, lifting one of the silver spoons to break the end of her eggshell. “If he ever does return,” she sighed. “Oh, I should have hidden the silver weeks ago.” The sound of a muffled drum struck her ear. She looked at Prudence in terror. “Pull the curtains close, child, and lock all the doors. The Red Coats are coming.”
Like a line of fire taking its winding way in and out between the houses, the regiment of British soldiers streamed through the streets of Philadelphia. Here, it stopped as an officer and his men stripped the fruit from some peaceful orchard or garden. There, at an officer’s order, a group of soldiers entered a house, and returned with bits of old family treasure that war gave them the privilege of taking.
Prudence’s heart beat fast, but she tried to be brave. She ran from room to room, stowing away the silver candlesticks and tableware, closing blinds, and locking doors. The old maid servant, her apron held over her head, had fled to the cellar in her fright. Her mother, bravely directing Prudence, was still unable to leave her room. Suddenly the front door burst open and in came William.
“I couldn’t bear to leave you alone, Prudence,” he said. “See, I brought my father’s old drum, thinking we could make a little noise on it and scare the Red Coats.”
Prudence looked into the brave face of her little neighbor.
“You’ve given me an idea, William,” she exclaimed. She ran over to the chest of drawers, opened one drawer, and pulled out the little homemade flag.
“We’ll both scare the Red Coats,” she said. “We won’t fasten the doors, for it wouldn’t be of any use. The soldiers could very easily break the bolts and I can’t find any safe place to hide the silver. Come. We’ll go right out on the piazza and meet the whole British army if it comes!” She clutched William’s hand, and tugged him toward the door.