"House afire? No! The confounded red-coats up and put it out."
"I thought they was going to let me burn to death up here!" groaned Uncle John.
"Can I help you up?" and Joe proffered two strong hands, rather black with toil and smoke.
"No, no! You can't help me. If the house isn't afire, I'll stand it till the fellows are gone, and then, Joe you fetch the doctor as quick as you can."
"YOU can't get a doctor for love nor money this night, Uncle John. There's too much work to be done in Lexington and Concord to-night for wounded and dying men; and there'll be more of 'em too afore a single red-coat sees Boston again. They'll be hunted down every step of the way. They've killed Captain Davis, from Acton."
"You don't say so!"
"Yes, they have, and—"
"I say, Joe Devins, go down and do-do something. There's my niece, a-feeding the murderers! I'll disown her. She shan't have a penny of my pounds, she shan't!"
Both Joe and Uncle John were compelled to remain in inaction, while below, the weary little woman acted the kind hostess to His Majesty's troops.
But now the feast was spent, and the soldiers were summoned to begin their painful march. Assembled on the green, all was ready, when Major Pitcairn, remembering the little woman who had ministered to his wants, returned to the house to say farewell.