I knelt down and drew the shoe over her bare foot. Then I stood up and took her hand, laying it very gently upon my arm. She suffered me to lead her into the house—to the door of her bedroom, where Claudia, already dressed, took her from me.
"Oh, John, John," she sobbed, "what is this pack o' riff-raff doing here with their cobbler majors and carpenter colonels—all these petty shop-keepers in uniform who come from filthy Boston to ride over us?"
Claudia's eyes were very bright, but without any trace of fear or anger.
"What troops are these, Jack?" she inquired coolly. "And do they really come here to make prisoners of two poor women?"
I told her that these soldiers formed a mixed battalion from the commands of Colonels Dayton and Livingston, and that they would encamp for the present within sight of the Summer House.
"Do you mean that Polly and I are prisoners?" she repeated incredulously.
"I'm afraid I do mean that, Claudia," said I.
At the word "prisoner" Lady Johnson flamed:
"Are you not ashamed, Jack Drogue, to tell me to my face such barbarous news!" she cried. "You, a gentleman, to consort with vulgar bandits who make prisoners of women! What do you think of your Boston friends now? What do you think of your blacksmith generals and 'pothecary colonels——"
"Polly! Be silent!" entreated Claudia, shaking her arm. "Is this a decent manner to conduct when the fortune of war fails to suit your tastes?"