er, who lives about two miles on the
road to Middelburg. She is in town now, for it is market-day, and you
will be safe where she hides you. I told her, it was by my husband's
request, or she would not have consented. Here, boy, put on these
clothes; I will assist you." Once more I was dressed as a girl, and when
my clothes were on, O'Brien burst out into laughter at my blue stockings
and short petticoats. "_Il n'est pas mal_," observed the hostess, as she
fixed a small cap on my head, and then tied a kerchief under my chin,
which partly hid my face. O'Brien put on a greatcoat, which the woman
handed to him, with a wide-brimmed hat. "Now follow me!" She led us into
the street, which was thronged, till we arrived at the market-place,
when she met another woman, who joined her. At the end of the
market-place stood a small horse and cart, into which the strange woman
and I mounted, while O'Brien, by the directions of the landlady, led the
horse through the crowd until we arrived at the barriers, when she
wished us good day in a loud voice before the guard. The guard took no
notice of us, and we passed safely through, and found ourselves upon a
neatly-paved road, as straight as an arrow, and lined on each side with
high trees and a ditch. In about an hour, we stopped near to the
farmhouse of the woman who was in charge of us. "Do you observe that
wood?" said she to O'Brien, pointing to one about half a mile from the
road. "I dare not take you into the house, my husband is so violent
against the English, who captured his schuyt, and made him a poor man,
that he would inform against you immediately; but go you there, make
yourselves as comfortable as you can to-night, and to-morrow I will send
you what you want. _Adieu! Je vous plains, pauvre enfant_." said she,
looking at me, as she drove off in the cart towards her own house.

"Peter," said O'Brien, "I think that her kicking us out of her house is
a proof of her sincerity, and therefore I say no more about it; we have
the brandy-flask to keep up our spirits. Now then for the wood, though,
by the powers, I shall have no relish for any of your pic-nic parties,
as they call them, for the next twelve years."

"But, O'Brien, how can I get over this ditch in petticoats? I could
hardly leap it in my own clothes."

"You must tie your petticoats round your waist and make a good run; get
over as far as you can, and I will drag you through the rest."

"But you forget that we are to