“Yes, I was there,” said Tom, proudly, “but Cole was first over the wall; I was second, because he reached down and pulled me over after him.”
Laura Thornton clapped her hands delightedly.
“Oh, you’re so brave, Tom; I wish I was a boy, then I, too, could do something for the cause. But they’re all Tories here—uncle, Cousin Mark and all; I dare not say a word of what I think about that hateful old King George!”
“I call that too bad,” said Tom, warmly. “A person should always be allowed to say what he thinks.”
“That’s what I say, too, but I’m afraid of Uncle Jasper, Tom; he’s so violent when he’s angry. Oh, if I could only break out on him as you did awhile ago! I stood at the window and heard it all. You were so splendid, Tom; you were not in the least bit afraid of him, were you?”
“Well, I should hope not,” said Tom.
“But don’t trust him, Tom,” she whispered, as though fearful of being overheard. “Don’t trust him or Mark, either; they both hate you, and just now I heard them talking to one of the officers whom they are entertaining; they are going to——”
Here she was interrupted by her uncle’s harsh voice, calling:
“Tom! Tom Deering, I say, where have you gotten to!”
A heavy foot sounded upon the bare, polished floor of the hall, coming toward the door of the room in which they were standing.