FOR a breathless space of time after her frantic departure from Mistress Hicks's Tory household, Mehitable stared wildly about her, not knowing which way to turn to go back to the Hunters and the Hounds tavern. Indeed, when her first anger against her father for having placed her so blindly in such an ignominious position and against Mistress Hicks for not having informed him frankly of her sentiments had passed, Mehitable was not sure that she wanted to go back to the inn. She was, as a matter of fact, rather afraid to disobey her father in returning to the tavern. Yet, clenching her hands beneath her mother's cardinal, she swore to herself that she would not return to Mistress Hicks. So, turning, she wandered aimlessly away.
It was by mere luck that after walking up different deserted lanes she should come within sight of the few dim lights of Broad and Market streets. But it did not take her long to make her way hastily across the intersection of those lanes to the tavern. She hesitated, however, before the tavern door. Did she dare, after her father had forbidden her to enter there, actually to disobey him?
As she stood miserably hesitating, bar of light shot out into the gloom and she shrank back into the shadows just in time to prevent being stumbled over by three men who issued from the taproom at that moment.
Turning away and raising her cape to shield her face, Mehitable flattened herself against the side of the building. She would have escaped detection save for the fact that the stagecoach for New York drove up at that instant and the lights from its side lanterns threw her form into relief against the tavern wall.
One of the travelers, swinging around, caught sight of her and at once strode toward her.
"Gadzooks, what have we here—a ghost?" he ejaculated, seizing her by the arm and trying to peer into her face.
Mehitable's frightened eyes stared at him from the depths of her hood.
"Oh, sir!" she pleaded and stopped, puzzled. There was something vaguely familiar about the man. Although all she could see of him was his eyes, for his face was hidden by the upturned collar of his greatcoat, Mehitable was almost sure she had met him before.
"Oh, sir," she said again, in a low voice, "I do but look for my father in the tavern!"
Instantly he stepped back and removed his hat with a flourish.
"Let me not stop you, then, young mistress," he said gravely. And this time the girl was struck by the familiar tones of his deep voice. Where had she heard that voice before?
Unheeding his companions' jibing remarks, which they flung at him as they stood beside the stagecoach, the man walked over to the tavern door and threw it open for Mehitable.
"Pray enter!" he said courteously.
It was just as she passed him that Mehitable saw him start. The light from the taproom had struck full upon her face. Then, as she walked forward into the glare and the noise of the tavern room, she recognized him in turn. It was Lieutenant Freeman in civilian attire! But when she would have whirled around she found the great door had closed behind her and her friend of the Trenton visit had gone without a word.
Bewildered by the singing and the laughter which greeted her through the smoke-laden air, she stood there, a butt for all the village wits and boobies until Mr. Gifford, catching sight of her over his counter, came hurrying toward her.
"What is it, my dear?" he asked kindly.
He drew her into the shelter of the counter end.
"Didst want to see anyone?" he puisued, as Mehitable stood silent.
"Art Mr. Gifford?" inquired the girl unsteadily.
"Aye."
"I thought you were not to return until late."
Mr. Gifford smiled down at her. "My mistress and I came home earlier than we had planned."
"Is my father, Samuel Condit, here?" asked Mehitable hurriedly.
Mr. Gifford shook his head. "Nay, child! Your father left a full half hour ago with Mr. Jones. I know not where he went!"
Mehitable's face fell. But a second later she raised it with an eager inquiry.
"Didst have aught to tell him concerning my sister Charity and Young Cy Jones?" she asked, quivering.
"Aye," nodded Mr. Gifford.
"Oh, dost know where they be, now?" Mehitable looked at him with wild hope in her eyes.
But he shook his head. "Nay," he answered quickly, "do not raise your hopes thus! I know not where they are, now! I could but tell him that I served them—I and Sturgins here—on the day your father said they were last seen in Newark."
Mehitable's glance sought the tow-headed servant, Sturgins, and found his unpleasant gaze fixed upon her, an ugly sneer only half hidden.
"But he said" began shrugged shoulders wearily. Of what use to stir up trouble here even if the servant were a Tory! Doubtless he performed his tasks well enough, and servants, even with the bound help and the slaves, were scarce. Many days later Mehitable was to regret bitterly not having denounced Sturgins at that moment for a Tory. But now she remained silent.
"He said?" prompted Mr. Gifford encouragingly.
"Nothing." So Mehitable dismissed the subject and stood pondering anxiously. Then she turned toward the door. "I think I will go and seek my father."
"Best wait here," commenced Master Gifford. But Mehitable had already passed out once more into the darkness.
As she stood hesitating by the taproom door her glance fell upon the stagecoach and she heard the driver exclaim to the group of travelers gathered around one of the off horses.
"Gentlemen, this is a sick horse. We shall be delayed until I can procure another beast."
As she gazed a wild plan came to Mehitable. Why not go to New York and search for Charity? And suiting the action to the word, she drifted forward from shadow to shadow until, reaching the deserted side of the coach, she climbed swiftly and surely to the top where, because of the cold, she knew that she would be unmolested the entire trip. She found someone's buffalo robe and, snuggling down into it she fell asleep.
She was awakened by the coach being rolled off from the ferry on to terra firma. Rubbing her eyes, she sleepily got to the edge of the coach and was over it. What were her fright and dismay, however, when she reached the ground, to find herself caught in a rough embrace and held prisoner.
"Ha!" gasped a hoarse voice. "What have we here, forsooth?"
A light was flashed into her face.
"A lass!" said the hoarse voice in surprise. But his grasp did not relax. Then a new voice broke into the astonished monologue of Mehitable's captor.
"What hast thou there, Jerry?" drawled the voice. And the girl, blinking at the light of the lanthorne thrust again into her face, looked up into the amused eyes of Lieutenant Freeman. To her bewilderment he began to laugh heartily and, still laughing, came toward her and gently but firmly removed her from the clasp of the man, Jerry.
"Why, Hitty, by all that's comical and outrageous!" he cried swinging her protectingly into the curve of his left arm, though his mirth still seemed to overcome him.
The man, Jerry, stared in stupid surprise.
"What hast thou for a joke, sir?" he growled, not ill-naturedly. Indeed, an uncouth kindliness rumbled in his fogbound voice, and now that she was no longer in close proximity to him, Mehitable did not think him so terrible.
"Nay, ask—ask me not!" sputtered Lieutenant Freeman. He waved a feeble right arm, weak from laughter. "I vow 'tis the best fun o' the year!"
"Aye?" said Jerry doubtfully. "But"
Suddenly Lieutenant Freeman sobered, though hie eyes still twinkled.
"'Tis my harum-scarum little sister!" he explained merrily. "She wagered me she would follow me to New York and of course I wagered the minx she could not. Well"—he burst out laughing again—"'tis I will have to pay the madcap her wager and scurry around and find her a passport, besides, unless"—he paused suggestively—"unless means could be arranged to smuggle her in with me before the guard comes?"
"We—ell," returned Jerry hesitatingly, "if this be true about ye wager—and mind, sir, I don't doubt your word—I should think means could be arranged to save ye the bother o' getting a passport."
There was a silence, a clink of metal against metal, then Lieutenant Freeman moved away.
"We will go, I think," he observed abstractedly, "to our aunt's in Broad Street."
"Aye, sir," answered Jerry, adding quickly, "best go at once! I hear ye sentry!"
For ten minutes the young man hurried Mehitable along. Then, reaching the shelter of some houses, he stopped abruptly.
"Mistress Hitty," he said gravely, "art mad?"
Mehitable, who had been waiting impatiently for an opportunity to speak, poured out her story. But when she had finished, the other shook his head.
"I cannot see why thy father allowed thee to come," he said.
When he had grasped the fact that Squire Condit knew nothing of his impetuous daughter's adventure as yet, the young officer whistled in astonishment, though the girl was relieved to find the inevitable twinkle in his eye.
"I will say," he drawled then, "thou art not lacking in spirit, little Mistress Madcap! But come, we must be on our way!"
"Whither do we go?" asked Mehitable.
"To my aunt's, Mistress Livingston, on Broad Street."
"Be she Tory?"
"Well, she is married to an Englishman." Lieutenant Freeman smiled. If he had not been such a tease he might have explained that his aunt, in that city of enemies, was a fiery patriot, as was her daughter, Mistress Nancy, and that his uncle was a good-natured man who cared about neither party so long as he could carry on his business.
But he realized his grave error in teasing Mehitable thus only when he reached his aunt's stoop. For when he turned around, expecting to find the girl at his heels in the little vestibule, she had disappeared.
Poor Mehitable! She spent the night, because of her principles, which would not let her accept Tory hospitahty, in roaming the streets. But when morning came her patriotism was rewarded. For nearing the ruins of Trinity Church, which stood bleak and forlorn in the gray dawn, whom should she see staring out at her, from behind a ruined, tottering church wall, but Charity.