There stood a cheering, laughing cluster of young officers; then there was Molly Hayes in the midst of them, standing at salute, while before her was General Washington himself. The boys approached through the lines of men who, with litters, were bearing off the dead from the field, and were just in time to hear the commander-in-chief say:
“Your bravery, Mistress Hayes, was equal to that of any man in the army. You served your gun gallantly, and in the name of Congress I thank you. My only regret is that I can do nothing more.”
“You can, general, asthore,” cried a voice from the rear, a voice which Ben at once recognized as that of Paddy Burk. “Now that her husband is wounded, make her a sergeant in his place.”
The grave-faced commander-in-chief smiled at the suggestion.
“An excellent notion; and from this time on, Mistress Hayes, you are a sergeant in the service of the United States, with the pay of such and all the other things that such rank demands.”
There was a chorus of cheers at this, and Molly Hayes, with cheeks stained crimson and eyes shining, once more saluted with proper military stiffness. And just then a litter holding a body came up and Ben, as he stepped aside to permit its passage, had a view of the face.
“She earned it,” said Nat Brewster, who had heard the story of Molly’s courage. “And she’s deserved all she’s got.”
Ben turned away from the litter, and a shudder ran through him. But, though he closed his eyes, he could not shut out the cold, white, dead face of Tobias Hawkins.
“There are more than she who have received what they deserved,” said he, in a low voice.
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