Then came the cooler days of autumn. The cotton had burst its bolls, the sugar-cane given up its sweets, the tobacco was stored, the fruits preserved.
One fine day in November, Sally saw Hotspur go dashing by, her Fairy Prince holding the rein.
It was like a waft of new, sweet air thus to behold him. Too much a child of nature was Maid Sally to lose or cast aside the dearest fancy of her life as she grew older, and the Fairy Prince of poorer days was the Fairy Prince still in her deep young heart.
He was also her hero now. She had helped him do battle for his country and hers. He was her relation. What a secret to hug within her breast!
But now, hotter and hotter grew the news from all directions. Lord Dunmore, gone from Williamsburg, yet made mischief in other parts of Virginia.
And soon came reports of trouble from near Norfolk, south of Williamsburg.
Sir Percival Grandison, who yet lingered in his Virginia home, no longer tried to keep his young son from fighting with the "rebels." There was in very truth something he kept very quiet about, in connection with the Boston affair.
And he was not surprised when, with young Spottswood, Norris, Byrd, and others, Lionel again mounted Hotspur and went clattering off toward Norfolk to see what trouble the British were making in that quarter.
One morning, when December was in its second week, Sally was in the wide kitchen plucking a goose, that she might learn how, when Parson Kendall came to the door, his wig somewhat awry, his face flushed with excitement, his manner hurried.
"Good Matilda," he said to his wife, "I would that a hamper of food might be quickly prepared, a roll of linen be made ready, and several flasks of your most strengthening tonics be got out. I go with our horse Rupert, and saddle-bags, a long day's journey and nearly a night's, to give such comfort as I can to certain of our men that lie wounded at Great Bridge, near Norfolk.