“Dear, dear me!” she cried, flushed and anxious when she was out of sight of Uncle John and Joe. “I wish I’d given ’em to Colonel Barrett when he was here before daylight, 15 only, I was afraid I should never get sight of them again.”
She drew off one of her stockings, filled it, tied the opening at the top with a string—plunged stocking and all into a pail full of water and proceeded to pour the contents into the well.
Just as the dark circle had closed over the blue stocking, Joe Devins’ face peered down the depths by her side, and his voice sounded out the words: “O Mother Moulton, the British will search the wells the very first thing. Of course, they expect to find things in wells!”
“Why didn’t you tell me before, Joe? but now it is too late.”
“I would, if I had known what you was going to do; they’d been a sight safer in the honey tree.”
“Yes, and what a fool I’ve been—flung my watch into the well with the spoons!”
“Well, well! Don’t stand there, looking!” as she hovered over the high curb, with her hand on the bucket. “Everybody will know, if you do.”
“Martha! Martha!” shrieked Uncle John’s quavering voice from the house door.
“Bless my heart!” she exclaimed, hurrying back over the stones.
“What’s the matter with your heart?” questioned Joe.