“There has been a fight at Lexington. Major Pitcairn is beat, and my Lord Percy. The farmers were all up to hinder them as they were on their way to seize our powder, and to take Mr. Hancock. The king has lost some three hundred men, and we under a hundred.”
“Good heavens!” said Mr. Galloway. “But it cannot be true.”
A pause came after, as I said there was no doubt of it.
Dr. Franklin asked if I was sure. I said, “Yes; I have it of James Wilson, and the town is already in an uproar over it.” The great philosopher remained deep in thought a moment, while the women sat or stood in fear, or whispering excitement. At last he said he must go, and that it was the beginning of war, and welcome too. Then he bowed gravely and went out. As he left, the stillness which had prevailed for a time was broken.
A dozen questions fell on me from all sides. I could only repeat my story, as Jack went by me to go out and hear, if possible, more of the news than I had to tell.
At last Mr. Chew said thoughtfully, “If it be true, it is a sad business; but, really, how can it be, Hugh? How could a lot of farmers, without good arms and discipline, put to rout a body of trained men, well armed?”
“I think,” said Galloway, “we shall have quite another version to-morrow. How does it strike you, Mr. Woodville?”
“Oh, quite absurd,” said the officer. “You may reassure yourselves, ladies; such a loss, too, would be incredible, even in regular war. I think we may go on with our game, Mrs. Ferguson.” He was very pompous, but none seemed inclined to take his advice.
“And yet I don’t like it,” said a lady of the Tory side.
“And I do,” said Mistress Wynne. “It is as good news as I have heard this many a day.”