"I presume Abigail exclaimed, 'Oh, if we could only make them think there were troops ready to defend the town, and so frighten them away!' And very likely Rebecca replied, 'Perhaps we can. If you can play the fife, I'll beat the drum; and if we are hidden from sight they may think there are troops ready to receive them if they come ashore, and so be afraid to land.'
"So they went around behind some sand-hills and played 'Yankee Doodle' in a lively way that had exactly the desired effect.
"The British ship had sent out boats filled with armed men who were pulling for the shore; but on hearing the music of the drum and fife, they evidently concluded that there might be a large force of American soldiers ready to receive them, and thinking 'discretion the better part of valour,' turned about and pulled back to their ship again without attempting to land."
"Oh, wasn't that good?" exclaimed Lulu; "I think the fathers and brothers of those girls must have been proud of them."
"Yes, I dare say they were," said Max.
"I wonder what became of them—those girls—afterward?" said Rosie. "Of course they must have been dead and gone long before this."
"No," replied the Captain, "Abigail died only recently at the advanced age of eighty-nine."
"Papa, won't you stay awhile in Boston and take us to see some of the places connected with Revolutionary times,—Bunker Hill and its monument, and maybe some others?" asked Max.
"I shall be pleased to do so, my son, if nothing happens to prevent," was the pleasant-toned reply. "It is my strong desire to have my children well-informed in regard to the history of their own country."
"And ardent patriots too, Papa, ready to defend her to the utmost of their ability should she be attacked by any other power?" queried Max, looking smilingly up into his father's face.