swift slaves, had long since disappeared; and now, interested and excited, Sally became engrossed in the busy street scenes all about her.
Broadway was then, as now, the principal thoroughfare in New York. But then wealth had erected beautiful residences along each side of it, and it was not until she came to the ruins of Trinity Church, burned the year before, that a blank space occurred in the blocks which the girl trod.
Each fine home had its stone stoop built before its entrance. Here were gathered the ladies of the household, ostensibly out to enjoy the air, really to bow prettily to the British officers who passed by. There were few carriages, many sedan chairs, and now and then an officer on horseback dashed up or down the street. No signs here of lack or hardship of warfare! Sally, remembering the homespun gowns, the busy hands at home incessantly knitting stockings for the soldiers, looked in amazement at the gay satins and silks of the New York ladies.
But now, as she walked along, she became aware, disagreeably, of someone at her side. Even before she had glanced up, she knew that she would see the furtive face, the cruel eyes of Stockton. She stopped angrily and, regardless of passers-by, faced him with hostile words. "Why do ye follow me?" she demanded. "General Howe ordered that I be set free. I call not this freedom—to be followed thus!"
