“What is this of Monsieur’s journey?” she said. “It must have been that I did not hear aright. It will cost Monsieur his life, and that is a life we cannot spare.”
“Woman,” replied Stephen with a sternness so new that Mère Jeanne was utterly taken aback and stood staring at him open-mouthed. “So far America has given to this war but what she could spare, now we must all give more than that. Go I must, and I will look to you and to Clotilde to take care of the poor of Hopewell until I shall come back.”
Mother Jeanne hesitated a moment, then dropped a curtsey as her brown face wrinkled into a proud smile.
“Monsieur may rely on us to do our duty,” she said.
CHAPTER XVI
THE HAND ON THE LATCH
A brown-faced pedlar, his heavy leathern pack sagging wearily from his shoulders, took his shambling way down the winding streets of Hopewell and, knocking at every door, offered for sale his stock of needles, thread, bobbins and silk laces. Although at other times such a trade was apt to be brisk and few housewives generally failed to bring forth their pennies and sixpences, now he was met with frowning looks and peremptory shakes of the head, wherever he stopped.
“We have no business with your like,” said one old woman, scarcely pausing in her spinning as his stooped shadow fell across her threshold, “we know your real errand and will have none of it.”
He next made a detour across the fields and came to Samuel Skerry’s little cottage where Clotilde still used the loom and kept her spinning-wheels and where she and Mother Jeanne were at work that morning. If he had any doubts as to the reason of his cold reception at the other houses, all such were swept away when the old Frenchwoman stood up in the doorway and spoke her mind.
“Begone from here,” she cried, “think you that there is one of us who has not heard of the business that you are about, that you, a skulking Tory, and a dozen like you are marching over the whole countryside, telling people that the cause of America is lost and warning them against enlisting in General Washington’s army? You can go back and tell your master, Andrew Shadwell, that our General could go forth alone with his sword in his hand and drive all the redcoat armies and German hirelings and Tory Loyalists from the country. But he shall have no need so to do, for his army is growing every day, thanks to the recruits New England is sending him. It will not be long before they and our brave General will force you and your like to flee beyond our borders. So, good sir, go ply your trade elsewhere.”