“I was intending to call upon you to-morrow.”
“You must go with me to-night. Father and mother never would forgive me if I did not take you along, especially when I tell them how you rubbed it into the king’s lobsters.”
The bells were ringing for nine o’clock—the hour when everybody in Boston made preparations for going to bed. All the Sons of Liberty came and shook hands with Robert.
“It is the most wholesome lesson the villains have had since they landed at Long Wharf,” said Doctor Warren, who hoped to have the pleasure of seeing more of Mr. Walden.
“We must rely upon such as you in the struggle which we are yet to have to maintain our liberties,” said Mr. Molineux.
Tom Brandon took Robert with him to his home on Copp’s Hill. Robert could see by the light of the moon that it was a large wooden house with a hipped roof, surmounted by a balustrade, fronting the burial ground and overlooking the harbor and a wide reach of surrounding country.
“Why, Robert Walden! where did you come from?” Mr. Brandon exclaimed as Tom ushered him into the sitting-room.
“What! stopping at the Green Dragon! Why didn’t you come right here, you naughty boy?”
He tinkled a bell and a negro entered the room.