“Oh! I’ll get fresh ones afore long,” answered Martha. “However, I will put these in water. They may as well last a few days.”
But a week went by, and then another week, without bringing again either of her suitors. The weather was delightful, for it was early June. The summer heat had not yet begun; and if it were not for war, ruthless war, how fair all nature would have appeared! But although the meadows were spangled with dandelions and buttercups, the woods scented with dogwood blossoms, and the air full of the melody of bobolinks and orioles, the people of East Chester were more depressed than ever. Bob Reed’s mill had just been burnt by the Cowboys; in revenge the Skinners had scuttled a Tory sloop anchored in the creek; while some miscreants had even made an attempt to fire St. Paul’s Church in the village. But, sad as all this was, nothing caused Martha Van Alstyne so much distress as the doings at the Old Stone Jug. For two whole nights she was kept awake and bustling about, attending to the wants of a set of profane marauders who belonged both to the British and American side. These villains, sinking all difference of opinion, would occasionally unite to rob friend as well as foe;[[165]] and it was to the Old Stone Jug they carried their plunder, which Uncle Pete would hide in the cavern behind the house.
“Well, don’t blame me, child,” said Van Alstyne. “Remember how I am situated. Why, if I had refused to conceal those bags of gold I’d like enough have been hung forthwith; for among the men who were here last night and the night before are some of the greatest scoundrels in America.”
“Well, I am going to choose my husband afore long,” answered Martha—“either Elisha Williams or Harry Valentine; and then you must abandon this tavern and come live with me. For if you stay here—”
“O child! I sha’n’t stay after you’re gone. But why marry so soon? Why not wait a while?—at least, until we see what Burgoyne does with his army, which is large and well appointed. He may sweep everything before him; and if he does, then you’ll see your way much clearer, and I’ll be the first to tell you to wed Harry Valentine.”
Martha shook her head: “I’ll give my hand to the bravest, father, no matter which side he is on. And it is because they are both so good and so brave that I hesitate.”
“Well, now, child, if you’re not careful you may cause the death of ’em both. Ay, ’tis hard to say what wild, foolhardy deed they may not attempt in order to win you.”
“Do you think so?” exclaimed Martha, pressing her hand over her heart and turning pale. This thought had not occurred to her before. But it was too late. She had already told each wooer that the bravest one should have her.
The girl was inwardly lamenting her folly when a voice from the cherry-tree cried: “Be ready, sir.” And immediately she and her father listened with all their ears for the next call.
“Red-coats!” shouted Popgun in about three minutes.