Debby hated the King for no better reason than because Mrs. Lane worshipped him. If she had only been a boy she would have fought against him simply to spite her mistress.
The tall clock on the stairs, after plodding through the weary day, at last struck seven, and the early gloaming began to settle o’er the little town of Plymouth.
From below the droning voice of Mrs. Lane arose, leading the evening devotions. How Debby loathed that service. In half an hour Mrs. Lane would mount the stair, rod in hand, to settle her account with the imprisoned sinner, and in half an hour, at a certain woods of which Debby knew, that rascal Jack Martin would be in waiting with any possible knowledge he might have gleaned of her father, and in return be given a lesson on the drum. Jack had warlike aspirations and Debby was fitting him to take his place, with her drum, to serve where her sex prohibited her going. Poor limited Debby; no one ever knew what the sacrifice meant to her.
As the hour struck she rose restlessly. Of course she must meet Jack, but she did not care to encounter the eyes of Mistress Knowles, who, if she ever sought forgiveness for her own sins, did so when all Plymouth slept.
Suddenly the girl started up, her strong rosy face full of fun. Why had she not thought of it before?
She ran to the closet and mounted a short ladder; from the space between the ceiling and the roof she dragged down a bundle and flung it upon the bedroom floor. Then she worked rapidly.
The bundle consisted of a suit of boy’s clothes made of rough fustian. It represented all the money earned and given since she had lived with Mrs. Lane.
Jack Martin had procured the outfit, never asking a question about the strange purchase, though at the time he was consumed with curiosity.
For a month it had lain in its hiding place, having been brought forth once or twice at midnight, and donned in silence, that Debby might know the unholy joy of making believe she was a boy.
She now dropped her trim gown and skirts upon the floor, and drew on the rough suit. Up went the curly brown hair under a three cornered hat, and lo! in the soft gloaming stood as sturdy and brave a lad as one need wish to see.