“Are you poor?”
“My father is”—a sudden thought stopped the words she was about to speak. “Give me the lamb,” she said, “and I’ll feed three hungry little girls every day as long as Boston is shut up. I will! I will! and Mary’s lamb shall live until I’m a hungry little girl myself, and I will keep it until I am starved clear almost to death.”
Johnny put Mary’s little lamb on the walk. “See if it will follow you,” he said.
“Come lamb! lamb! come with Catharine,” and it went bleating after her along the Common side.
“It’s used to a girl,” ejaculated the boy, “and it hasn’t been a bit happy with me. Give it grass and milk,” he called after Catharine, who turned and bowed her head.
“A pretty story I shall have to tell Mary Robbins,” thought Johnny. “Here I have given her lamb to be kept and coddled, and it’s likely never eaten at all—but I know that little girl will keep her word. She looks it—and she said she would feed three little girls as long as Boston is shut up, and that is more than the lamb could do. I must recollect the very words, to tell Mary.”
When the Boston Gazette of July 4th, 1774, reached the village of Windham, its inhabitants were surprised at the following announcement, more particularly as not one of them knew where the last sheep came from:
“Last week, were driven to the neighboring town of Roxbury two hundred and fifty-eight sheep, a generous contribution of our sympathizing brethren of the town of Windham, in the colony of Connecticut; to be distributed for the employment or relief of those who may be sufferers by means of the act of Parliament, called the Boston Port Bill.”
Johnny Manning, when he returned to Windham, privately explained the matter to Mary Robbins, by telling her that when the sheep were numbered at Roxbury he counted in her lamb.