Molly.
“It was no great thing to clamber to the ground below.”
“Robert Shirtliffe is my name, gaby, and I arrest you in the name of King George the Third as a traitor to your country and for trying to corrupt the mind of one Mistress Deborah Mason, a young and innocent maid!”
“My God!” gasped Jack, and sank upon the Autumn leaves at his feet.
Then such a peal of laughter rent the air that the birds stirred in their nests.
“Oh! you coward!” panted Debby. “A gallant soldier you would make. Any Tom, Dick or Harry could arrest and carry you off like a sack of meal. I vow I’ve a mind to give you no more lessons on the drum. ’Twould be just making it possible for you to fall into prison. A drummer boy, indeed, Jack Martin. Better don my gown Sir Babykin, and let me go in your place!”
Jack had arisen in his anger and chagrin and now stood glowering before Debby.
“Shame on you, Debby Mason!” he cried, “a bold jade you are and a disgrace to the village!” Then eyeing her closer he added, “but a fine, handsome lad you look, girl. I doubt if your own father would know you. But I have half a mind not to tell you the news to pay you for this unmannerly prank.”
“And I,” mimicked Debby, “have half a mind to tell the meeting of your bravery.”
“I’ve taught you to read, Deb, when the schools shut their doors on you,” Jack was capitulating, “and I’ve brought you the news. Beside,” with a resumption of his airs, “if you tell on me, how can you explain your own share in the business?”
This reduced Debby to her proper place at once. “I’ll not tell, Jack, but what is the news? By your face I know you have heard much.”