“Do we dare?” William’s round, merry face was very sober.
“Of course we dare. Come on. You drum and I’ll wave the Stars and Stripes,” Prudence said.
The Williams’ white house, set a little back from the street in the midst of sweet old flower beds and low hedges of box and yew, looked like a prize to the ruthless Red Coats. It was well known in Philadelphia at that time that Prudence’s father had used much of his wealth to further the cause of the Colonies. This made the invading enemy hate him. It was a common rumor, too, that although the Williams’ chests of gold were greatly depleted, there was still much treasure of silver left in the home. News of it passed from mouth to mouth of the soldiers.
“There’s the house. Left flank, wheel, Halt!” shouted the British general in command. He turned in at the Williams’ gate and strode up the path. At the steps he looked up and stopped. “Gad!” he said, “the children of these stubborn Colonists would defy us, too,” but a smile took away the stern lines from his mouth.
On the top step of the piazza stood Prudence and William, two brave little Colonists. William was beating a loud, rap tap, on the cracked head of an old drum. Prudence, her arm held high above her head, waved the little home-made flag that showed the glorious stars and stripes of their regiment.
“You mustn’t come a step farther, sir!” she commanded.
“No indeed!” echoed William. “We won’t let you come in.”
“So you’re holding the fort, are you?” the General asked.
“We have to, sir,” Prudence explained. “My father is with the army of the Colonies and my mother is ill. This is my neighbor, William Brewster. He came over to help me guard the house.” Then she turned pleading eyes toward the great man as she held out her flag.
“It looks to me as if there were a thousand Red Coats, sir, more or less, out there in the road. There are only two of us. Please, sir, for the sake of our flag, march on!”