“When Liberty comes, She comes to stay,” said Mr. Jefferson, half-suffocated with the dust; and the two retreated to the committee-room.
Blue-Eyed Boy was polishing with his silken duster the red morocco of a chair as the gentlemen 118 opened the door. He heard one of them say, “If Cæsar Rodney gets here, it will be done.”
“If it’s done,” said the boy, “won’t you, please, Mr. Adams, won’t you, please, Mr. Jefferson, let me carry the news to General Washington?”
The two gentlemen looked either at the other, and both at the lad, in smiling wonder.
“If what is done?” asked Mr. Adams.
“If the thing is voted and signed and made sure,” (just here Blue-Eyed Boy waved his duster of a flag and stood himself as erect as a flagpole;) “if the tree’s transplanted, if the ship gets off the ways, if we run clear away from King George, sir; so far away that he’ll never catch us.”
“And why do you, my lad, wish to carry the news to General Washington?” asked Mr. Jefferson.
“Because,” said the boy, “why—wouldn’t you? It’ll be jolly work for the soldiers when they know they can fight for themselves.”
Just here Bellman Grey shouted for Blue-Eyed Boy, bidding him come quick and be spry with his dusting, too.
Before the hall was cleared of the accumulated dust of State-rooms above and Congress-rooms below, in came members of the Congress, one-by-one and two-by-two, and in groups. The doors were locked, and the solemn deliberations began. Within that room, now known as Independence 119 Hall, sat, in solemn conclave, half a hundred men, each and every one of whom knew full well that the deed about to be done would endanger his own life.