“Then your johnny-cake on my hearth won’t burn up,” she said, with a quick little smile, adjusting her cap.
Major Pitcairn laughed, and two soldiers, at his command, seized the pails and made haste to the court-house, followed by many more.
For awhile the fire seemed victorious, but, by brave effort, it was finally overcome, and the court-house saved.
At a distance Joe Devins had noticed the smoke hovering like a little cloud, then sailing away still more like a cloud over the town; and he had made haste to the scene, arriving in time to venture on the roof, and do good service there.
After the fire was extinguished, he thought of Martha Moulton, and he could not help feeling a bit guilty at the consciousness that he had gone off and left her alone.
Going to the house he found her entertaining the king’s troopers with the best food her humble store afforded.
She was so charmed with herself, and so utterly well pleased with the success of her pleading, that the little woman’s nerves fairly quivered with jubilation; and best of all, the blue stocking 31 was still safe in the well, for had she not watched with her own eyes every time the bucket was dipped to fetch up water for the fire, having, somehow, got rid of the vow she had taken regarding the drawing of the water.
As she saw the lad looking, with surprised countenance, into the room where the feast was going on, a fear crept up her own face and darted out from her eyes. It was, lest Joe Devins should spoil it all by ill-timed words.
She made haste to meet him, basket in hand.
“Here, Joe,” she said, “fetch me some small wood, there’s a good boy.”