Part 24 (2/2)

”John Drogue,” she said with a great sob, ”I have loved you as a brother, but I had rather see you dead there on this violated threshold than know that the Laird of Northesk is become a rebel to his King!”

I knelt down and drew the shoe over her bare foot. Then I stood up and took her hand, laying it very gently upon my arm. She suffered me to lead her into the house--to the door of her bedroom, where Claudia, already dressed, took her from me.

”Oh, John, John,” she sobbed, ”what is this pack o' riff-raff doing here with their cobbler majors and carpenter colonels--all these petty shop-keepers in uniform who come from filthy Boston to ride over us?”

Claudia's eyes were very bright, but without any trace of fear or anger.

”What troops are these, Jack?” she inquired coolly. ”And do they really come here to make prisoners of two poor women?”

I told her that these soldiers formed a mixed battalion from the commands of Colonels Dayton and Livingston, and that they would encamp for the present within sight of the Summer House.

”Do you mean that Polly and I are prisoners?” she repeated incredulously.

”I'm afraid I do mean that, Claudia,” said I.

At the word ”prisoner” Lady Johnson flamed:

”Are you not ashamed, Jack Drogue, to tell me to my face such barbarous news!” she cried. ”You, a gentleman, to consort with vulgar bandits who make prisoners of women! What do you think of your Boston friends now?

What do you think of your blacksmith generals and 'pothecary colonels----”

”Polly! Be silent!” entreated Claudia, shaking her arm. ”Is this a decent manner to conduct when the fortune of war fails to suit your tastes?”

And to me: ”No one is like to harm us, I take it. We are not in personal danger, are we?”

”Good Lord!” said I, mortified that she should even ask me.

”Well, then!” she said in a lively voice to Lady Johnson, who had turned her back on me in sullen rage, ”it will be but a few days at worst, Polly. These rebel officers are not ogres. No! So in Heaven's name let us make the best of this business--until Mr. Was.h.i.+ngton graciously permits us to go on to Albany or to New York.”

”I shall not go thither!” stormed Lady Johnson, pacing her chamber like a very child in the tantrums; ”I shall not deign to inhabit any city which is held by dirty rebels----”

”But we shall drive them out first!” insisted Claudia, with an impudent look at me. ”Surely, dear, Albany will soon be a proper city to reside in; General Howe has said it;--and so we had best address a polite letter to Mr. Was.h.i.+ngton, requesting a safe conduct thither and a flag----”

”I shall not write a syllable to the arch-rebel Was.h.i.+ngton!” stormed Lady Johnson. ”And I tell you plainly, Jack, I expect to have my throat cut before this shameful business is ended!”

”You had best conduct sensibly, both of you,” said I bluntly; ”for I'm tired of your airs and vapours; and Colonel Dayton will stand no nonsense from either of you!”

”John!” faltered Lady Johnson, ”do--do you, too, mean to use us brutally?”

”I merely beg you to consider what you say before you say it, Polly Johnson! You speak to a rebel of 'dirty' rebels and 'arch' rebels; you conduct as though we, who hold another opinion than that entertained by you, were the sc.u.m and offscouring of the earth.”

”I meant it not as far as it concerns you, John Drogue,” she said with another sob.

”Then be pleased to trim your speech to my brother officers,” said I, still hotly vexed by her silly behaviour. ”We went to Johnstown to take your husband because we believe he has communicated with Canada. And it was proper of us to do so.

”We came here to detain you until some decent arrangement can be made whereby you shall have every conceivable comfort and every reasonable liberty, save only to do us a harm by communicating with your friends who are our enemies.

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