“Oh father! mother! it is Tom! He’s swinging his hat! Just see him!” she cried.
Again the cannon flamed, but with the flashing Tom leaped back into the trench and was safe from the shot.
“I’m glad he’s there. He’s got the true stuff in him,” said Mr. Brandon.
“I’m afraid he’ll be killed!” exclaimed Mrs. Brandon, manifesting the mother’s solicitude and love.
“I glory in his pluck,” said Berinthia.
People came from other sections of the town to behold the impending battle.
“May we presume to trespass upon your hospitality, Captain Brandon,” asked Mr. Newville, “and, if you have room, see this approaching contest from your housetop?”
“Certainly. We give you and your family hearty welcome. We doubtless shall see it from different political standpoints; you are truly loyal to the king; my sympathies, as you know, are with the provincials, but that shall not diminish our personal friendship or my hospitality,” Captain Brandon replied, escorting Mr. and Mrs. Newville and Miss Newville to the top of the house and providing them seats.
The forenoon wore away; Mrs. Brandon was busy preparing a lunch, and Chloe soon had the table elaborately supplied with ham, tongue, the whitest bread, appetizing cheese, doughnuts, and crumpets. The company partook of the collation, drank each a glass of wine, and then ascended to the roof again.