However, neither flattery nor a curiosity stimulus were unpleasing to me, so I went frequently.
CHAPTER XIII.
AWAY! AWAY!
A couple of weeks passed away thus, when one morning we were awakened early by a clamour in the street. All Pembroke was in an uproar. All that I could distinguish of the cries was one exclamation, “The French!”
Had they broken out, and were they going to sack the place? The panic reminded me of our feelings at Fishguard in the spring, but seemed more strange to me now, for in the interim I had become comparatively intimate with the foreigners, and had lost my fear of them. I jumped out of bed, dragged on a garment or two, and flung open my little lattice window.
“Where are the French?” I yelled.
“Away, away!” came the answer. “Clean gone.”
The idea occurred to me that if they had gone away clean they must have been in a very different state to their usual condition; however, my reflections were disturbed by the sudden appearance of my Aunt Jane; she burst in head foremost.
“Where’s Eleanor?” she gasped.
“Where are the French?” I answered lightly, “Away, away!”
“Are ye cursëd, boy, or only dull?” [223] queried my angry relative. “What d’ye mean?”