dragged slowly away. Dinner was over and still no
message for us forlorn little ones. At last Aunt Polly slowly arose
from her seat upon the doorstep, with the light of a strong, courageous
resolve on her little face.

"Children!' she called loudly, and after we had gathered at her call,
she spoke to us with an encouraging smile:

"'I've made up my mind that 'twon't be best for us to stay here another
night. We're in the way, and the little ones would be better off at home
with their mothers. We know that the fightin' is all over, and I don't
believe the English soldiers'll be bad enough to hurt a lot o' little
helpless children, 'specially if they're under a flag o' truce.'

"Here she drew a handkerchif from her pocket. This she fastened
carefully to a stick. Then putting it into the hands of my brother Ben,
a well-grown lad of twelve, she went on with her directions:

"'We'll form in procession, just as we came, and you, Benjie, may march
at the head with this white flag a-wavin' to let them know that we come
in peace. I'll follow next with the biggest boys, and the girls, with
the little ones, must keep behind where it's safest.'

"Perhaps it was the contagion of Aunt Polly's cheerful courage, but
more likely it was the blessed hope of seeing home and father and mother
again, that made the little folks so prompt to obey her directions. We
formed ourselves in line in less time than it takes to tell about it;
we elder girls took charge of the wee ones who were so rejoiced to leave
the inhospitable roof of the Gubtils' that they forgot all their fears
of the terrible English, and trotted along as blithely over the deserted
road as if not a fear had ever terrified their childish hearts, and as
if English soldiers were still simply those far-off monsters that had
served as bugbears to frighten them now and then into obedience to
maternal authority.

"The Gubtils watched us off without a word of encouragement or
friendliness. Aunt Polly walked close behind the flag-bearer with a
firm step, but I could see that she was very pale, and when we came to
descend the little hill that led into the village, and when just at
its foot, where then stood the grocery of old Penn Parker, we caught a
glimpse of the scarlet uniforms of several soldiers loafing about--then
even we children could see that her steps faltered; and I remember I
thought she was fearful of some violence.

"But the next moment she was walking steadily along