nd down between the bookshelves, his hands clasped
behind his back, his brows knit in thought. Several times he glanced
at the tall clock his father had brought from Lisbon; it would soon be
time for him to go to the synagogue; but what message had he to give
his people?

Down the quiet street came the roll of drums, and David rushed to the
gate, wishing with all his heart that he might follow the soldiers.
But he knew that his grandmother expected him to take her to the
synagogue, and he did not dare to leave the garden; instead he stood
kicking holes in the path with his shining Sabbath boots which at that
moment he hated with all his might, just as he hated the ruffles of
fine linen that his grandmother had painfully stitched for him with
her loving, rheumatic old fingers, and his Sabbath suit in which he
was never allowed to romp or play. And at that moment, with the
British actually knocking at New York's front door, one could hardly
blame a small boy for growing impatient at the restrictions of a
doting old grandmother, no matter how much she might indulge the
orphan grandson whom his dying father had left in her charge the year
before. If he were only a man, thought David, longingly; only old
enough to be with General Washington's troops across the river. But a
ten-year-old boy, who couldn't even play the drum like Frank Morris,
the apprentice lad who had run away to join the army, couldn't serve
his country any better than a feeble old lady like Grandma or a
minister like the rabbi next door.

The roll of drums had startled the rabbi as well as his young neighbor
and he now appeared in his garden, walking with swift, nervous steps
to the gate. At first, he did not seem to see David; only stared down
the road with wide, eager eyes, his hands gripping the rails of the
gate until his knuckles showed hard and white; then, as the drums grew
fainter, his shoulders relaxed a little, he sighed deeply, and,
turning toward David, nodded kindly, even smiling, as though he had no
deeper thought in his mind than giving his young friend a Sabbath
greeting.

"Good _Shabbas_," said the rabbi. "I see you're all ready for service,
my lad."

"Yes, sir. I'm just waiting for Grandmother." From far off came the
last sound of the drums. "Did you hear the drums, sir? I wonder
whether more of our troops are coming to the city."

The minister's face darkened. "Rather the American troops are leaving
it, I fear," he answered gravely