Could she? Imagine an American woman saying “No” at such a time.
He slipped in quietly.
“What news?” she said. “They say that MacDonough has won on the Lake, but Plattsburg is taken.”
“No, indeed; Plattsburgh is safe; MacDonough has captured the fleet. I am nearly sure that the whole British army is retiring to Canada.”
“Thank God, thank God,” she said fervently, “I knew it must be so; the women have met here and prayed together every day, morning and night. But hush!” she laid a warning finger on her lips and pointed up toward one of the rooms—“British officer.”
She brought two blankets from a press and led up to the garret. At the lowest part of the roof was a tiny door to a lumber closet. In this Rolf spread his blankets, stretched his weary limbs, and soon was sound asleep.
At dawn the bugles blew, the camp was astir. The officer in the house arose and took his post on the porch. He was there on guard to protect the house. His brother officers joined him. Mrs. Hubbell prepared breakfast. It was eaten silently, so far as Rolf could learn. They paid for it and, heading their regiment, went away northward, leaving the officer still on the porch.
Presently Rolf heard a stealthy step in his garret, the closed door was pushed open, and Mrs. Hubbell's calm, handsome face appeared, as, with a reassuring nod, she set down a mug of coffee, some bread, and a bowl of mush and milk. And only those who have travelled and fasted for twelve hours when they were nineteen know how good it tasted.
From a tiny window ventilator Rolf had a view of the road in front. A growing din of men prepared him for more troops, but still he was surprised to see ten regiments march past with all their stores—a brave army, but no one could mistake their looks; they wore the despondent air of an army in full retreat.