One fine crisp morning in February we were breasting at a walk the slippery incline of Chestnut Hill, when Darthea, who had been unusually silent, said quite abruptly:
“I am going away, Mr. Wynne.”
I was instantly troubled. “Where?” I said.
“Next week, and to New York. My aunt can no longer stand all this mob of rebels. We go to New York, and for how long I know not. Since, in September, our friend, Dr. John Kearsley, was mobbed and maltreated, my aunt declares you unfit to live among. I must say I thought it brutal, sir. When men of sense and breeding like Mr. Penn, Mr. Chew, and Dr. Kearsley, cannot live unmolested it is time, my aunt thinks, to run.”
“No one annoys Mr. Penn or Mr. Chew,” said I. “To my mind, they are neutrals, and worse than open foes; but thy doctor is a mad Tory, and a malignant talker. I saw the matter, and I assure thee it was overstated. He lost his temper; ‘t is a brave gentleman, and I would he were with us. But now that both sides are sure at last that they are really at war, these men who live among us and are ready to welcome every redcoat must have their lesson. It must be Yes or No, in a war like this.”
“But I hate that,” she returned; “and to be comfortable and snug, and to love ease and Madeira and a quiet horse, and a book and a pipe and a nap of an afternoon, and then to have certain of the baser sort cry, ‘Get up and kill somebody!’ I think I am with Mr. Ross and believe that, ‘let who will be king, I well know I shall be subject.’ Imagine my Aunt Peniston’s fat poodle invited to choose between exile and killing rats.”
“My dear Darthea, for thee to preach caution and neutrality is delightful.”
“Did it sound like that Mr. Congregation?”
“No; to tell the truth, I think it did not.”
“Indeed, you are right,” says she. “I am a red-hot Tory, sir. I scare Margaret Chew out of her sweet wits when I talk blood, blood, sir; and as to Miss Franks,—she hates to be called Becky,—when I say I hope to see Mr. Washington hanged, she vows he is too fine a man, and she would only hang the ugly ones. So take care, Mr. Stay-at-home, take care; I am no neutral.”