“’T is a promise thou shouldst ne’er have made, and which it is now thy every interest to be quit of, let alone that ’t is so distasteful to thy daughter.”
“A promise is a promise,” answered the father, with an obstinate motion of head.
“And a fool ’s a fool,” retorted Clowes, losing his temper. “In counsel and aid I’ve done my best for ye; now go your gait, and see what comes of it.”
A week later, Mr. Meredith bade farewell to wife and daughter.
“I wish you were n’t going, dadda,” Janice moaned. “’T is so akin to last summer that it frights me.”
“Nay, lass, be grateful that I have the job to do, and that with good winds I shall return within a fortnight. Clowes has passed his word that ye shall want for nothing. I’ll be back ere ye know I’ve gone.”
There was a good cause, however, for the girl’s fear of the future, for in less than a week from her father’s sailing, on every street corner, in every tavern, and in every drawing-room of the town the news that Philadelphia was to be evacuated was being eagerly and anxiously discussed.
XLVII
THE EVACUATION
Confirmation of the rumour, so far as Mrs. Meredith and Janice were concerned, was first received through the commissary.
“Ay,” he told them, when questioned; “’t was decided at a council of war the very day Howe left us, and that was why we at once began transferring our stores and the seized property to New York, one cargo of which your husband was put in charge. ’T will tax our shipping to the utmost to save it all.”