The big clothes-basket was full of lint for wounds that now never should be made. Gladly she tossed out the fluffy mass, and packed within it every dainty the house contained.
It was nearly sunset when Aunt Hannah and Jeremy started forth, with the basket between them, to Mr. Wooster’s house, hoping that he would carry it in his wagon up to Boston. He was not at home.
“Get out the cart,” said Aunt Hannah to Jeremy, when they learned no help was to be obtained. She sat by the roadside watching the basket until the cart arrived.
“I’m going with you,” she said, after the basket was in; she climbed to the seat beside the lad, and off they started for Boston.
It was dark when they reached the lines, and no passes granted, the officers said, to go in that night.
“But I’ve food for the hungry,” said Aunt Hannah, in her sweetest voice, from the darkness of the cart, “and folks are hungry in the night as well as in the day.”
She deftly threw aside the cover from the basket and took out a chicken, which she held forth to the man, saying: “Take it. It’s good.”
He hesitated a moment, then seized it eagerly.
“I know you,” spoke up Jeremy, at this juncture. “You went up the Neck with us this morning. I saw you.”