“I overheard what you were saying in the public room, Brereton,” he said. “Some of my own aides are traducing me in secret, and making favour with other generals by praising them and criticising me, against the possibility that I may be superseded. But I learned that I have one faithful man.”
“Ah, your Excellency,” impulsively cried the young officer, starting forward, “’t is a worthless life,—which brought disgrace to mother, to father, and to self; but what it is, is yours.”
“Thank you, my boy,” replied Washington, laying his hand affectionately on Brereton’s shoulder. “As you say, ’t is a time which winnows the chaff from the wheat. I thank God He has sent some wheat to me.” And there were tears in the general’s eyes as he spoke.
XXVI
NECESSITY KNOWS NO LAWS
While the family of Greenwood were still at the breakfast-table on the following morning, they were startled by a shriek from the kitchen, and then by Peg and Sukey bursting into the room where they sat.
“Oh, marse,” gasped the cook, “de British!”
Both the squire and Janice sprang to the windows, to see a file of soldiers, accompanied by a mounted officer, drawn up at the rear of the house. As they took this in, the line broke into squads, one of which marched toward the stable, a second toward the barn, while the third disappeared round the corner of the house. With an exclamation the squire hurried to the kitchen and intrenched himself in the door just as the party reached it.
“Who are ye, and by what right do ye trespass on my property?” he demanded.
“Git out of the way, ole man,” ordered the sergeant. “We hev orders ter take a look at yer store-room and cellar, an’ we ha’n’t got no time to argify.”
“Ye’ll not get into my cellar, that I can tell—” began the squire; but his remark ended in a howl of pain, as the officer dropped the butt of his musket heavily on the squire’s toes. The agony was sufficient to make the owner of Greenwood collapse into a sitting position on the upper step and fall to nursing the injured member.