# Mistress Madcap Surrenders/Chapter 10

IT WAS a long time before Mehitable opened her eyes. When she did so, she found her head pillowed upon someone's knee and John Condit kneeling upon the ground near by, beside a silent figure.
"Greater love hath no man——" John was saying, with a little catch in his breath. "Ah, Tony!" he cried pitifully.
Someone spoke above Mehitable's head. "'Greater love hath no man than this, that he lay down his life for his friends.' Poor Sturgins! He did indeed love ye well, John!" There was a tremor in the deep voice and Mehitable, lying languidly, felt her hair stirred by a sigh. With that, she tried to lift her head.
At once there was a tenseness in the arms that held her. A short pause ensued. Then Anthony Freeman spoke a trifle breathlessly.
"Your—your sister be recovering from her swoon, I think, John."
Doctor Condit hastily placed his white kerchief over the still face of the man on the ground, glanced ​at another figure lying equally motionless on the snow near by, and, rising, came toward Mehitable.
"Well, Sis?" He tried to say it lightly, as he dropped upon one knee beside her; but the awfulness of those moments a short time ago rushed upon them both, and with a little sob, Mehitable sat up and put her arms around his neck. Patting and soothing her, John hugged her to him with brotherly warmth. "At least," he whispered after awhile, during which Captain Freeman, relieved of his burden, got up and moved courteously out of hearing, "at least you and I and Gray Hawk be whole and sound. The rogues got only," he threw back his head to wink the tears out of his eyes, his voice growing thick, "got only old Sturgins!"
Mehitable pushed back the dark hair from her forehead with a weak gesture. "But—would ye mind—I—I can't seem to remember! Why be Captain Freeman here? Whence did he come? And where be Gray Hawk?"
"The Tories arrived but a moment before I returned. Gray Hawk slipped away in a desperate effort to head me off from the glen; but I had cut back through the woods from the river—I lost my way for the nonce, too—and he missed me! When he returned, Tony—who was en route to Whippanong—was here, having heard the fracas from the road. Tony fought like twelve men, as did Gray Hawk, then—but 'twas Tony who had ​Jaffray squealing like a pig from his marvelous sword strokes"—here John laughed in sheer revulsion of feeling—"and who caught ye away from Hawtree, whom I thought to see come to his end then and there, handicapped though Tony was by holding ye and fighting wi' one hand! By the time I had dealt the other Tories a blow or two—that fellow we saw at Ranfield's Tavern was one o' them, by the way—the villains fled, leaving Jaffray a victim to Gray Hawk's tomahawk." Mehitable repressed a shudder. "Ho, Tony—where are ye? Gray Hawk fled after the Tories, Hitty! Ho, Tony—come hither and be thanked by two eternally grateful folk for your sword's prowess!"
Mehitable struggled to her feet. She felt dizzy and sick: Even to her own ears, her voice, when she spoke, sounded curt and cold; but she could not control its tone, so vague and unreal did she still feel after the turmoil of the fight.
"Captain Freeman, I be in your debt, 'twould seem."
The eager figure advancing to meet her stopped with an abruptness that might have shown the girl, had she been less dazed, how ungrateful she appeared. Then Anthony Freeman bowed formally.
"'Tis I who am in your debt, mistress, for the opportunity to use my idle sword! Ram's Horn, John," he turned with a laugh toward Doctor Con​dit, "'twas really a most glorious fight and I ha' ye to thank for giving me a chance to exert myself! 'Twas a relief"—his voice was whimsical—"to get at the enemy after being cooped up i' camp for a month or two! It be far easier to fight than to wait!"
Mehitable, upon her brother's arm, went slowly toward her horse. "Now ye ha' got the woman's viewpoint o' the war, sir," she said, meaning to be humorous; but sounding only ironical to the young man's sensitive ears.
"Can ye ride, think ye, Hitty?" asked John Condit in an anxious undertone, after he had hoisted her into her saddle, noticing her unsteadiness there.
"Aye!" nodded Mehitable. Her hands were moist from the effort of holding herself erect upon her horse; but her voice was indomitable.
Captain Freeman, mounting to his own saddle, swore softly at the pathos of the little slender figure drooping upon her steed near him.
"I would suggest," he spoke savagely, wondering at his friend's stupidity, "that ye hold your sister before ye upon your horse and I will lead hers, John! Ye poor fool!" he added softly to himself, with an angry glance at his unconscious friend.
"O' course!" Instantly remorseful, John Condit rode close to Mehitable and plucked her from her saddle. "Now, why did I not think o' that!"
​"Ye would have, had it been Nancy!" Unwittingly, Captain Freeman placed resentful stress upon his cousin's name, who was John's betrothed.
There was a little silence as the four horses went clop-clopping down the curving, hilly road, for, besides Mehitable's, Captain Freeman was leading Sturgins's mount as well. Then the girl felt her brother shake with mirth. When she demanded the reason, he shook his head at first.
"Nay, tell me why ye laugh!" persisted the girl.
"I—I—was but wondering why it was Tony, here, who thought o' your riding wi' someone!" said John meekly. And burst into renewed laughter when Mehitable's back stiffened into a haughty ramrod.
But it was not the night for mirth. Presently John fell silent, brooding upon the humble, faithful friend he had left behind him in the glen, beneath the stark, naked trees.
"To-morrow," he's aid to Captain Freeman, "to-morrow must we return wi' pick and shovels, Tony!"
"Aye—an the wolves don't go earlier!" Anthony's voice was dispirited, and they finished their journey in gloomy speechlessness, Mehitable lying spent against her brother's shoulder in a daze of misery.
Doctor Condit prescribed a day in bed for his sister when, to Charity's fright, and Mistress Lind​sley's concern, he carried Mehitable into Mistress Lindsley's kitchen a little later. He told them hastily what had happened, then hurried out to rejoin his friend and the restive horses.
The next morning, Mehitable, however, insisted upon rising, declaring that, save for a little stiffness, she felt perfectly well.
"Just think, Cherry, on the morrow 'tis Christmas!" she mused that afternoon.
"It does no good to think on't!" sighed Charity.
"How feels your head where that wicked man did strike ye?" asked Tabitha, looking up from her knitting. "Someone at the door, Cherry!" she added.
"My head does not hurt, now!" answered Mehitable. "John said he struck me not upon my temple, but where my hair broke the blow. And that I swooned more from fright than hurt. Who was it, Cherry?" She looked expectantly, as did Tabitha, at her sister, as the latter closed the door and came back to the fireside.
"It was someone asking to be directed to the army encampment," answered Charity, laughing. "That be the tenth person—I vow 'tis so! I've been called and called to the door and always 'tis the same question, 'Where be the army encampment? Which way lies Basking Ridge?'"
Mehitable looked at her in smiling speculation. "I do believe that this be the result o' Mistress ​Farrand's letter-reading! These be 'letter stockings' from all the mothers who heard her read yesterday!" she exclaimed.
"What do ye mean?" demanded the other two. And how they laughed and applauded when Mehitable told them of having met the spirited old lady riding and knitting in her oxcart, going forth to arouse the feminine countryside to action.
Christmas Day passed quietly, with not even an extra candle lighted to add festivity, and because of the food scarcity, which was becoming more noticeable, not even an extra goody to grace the table.
It was the morning of December twenty-eighth that Tabitha, who had been out in the storm which had descended finally upon Morris Town after days of threatening, came into the kitchen. She looked spent and weary and for a little time, while she was removing her wet cloak and stamping the snow from her feet, she said little. At last, in answer to a question from Mehitable who, spinning beside the fire, had been regarding her curiously above the whirring wheel, Tabitha said that she had been to the headquarters for Mistress Lindsley.
"And, oh, Hitty"—she faced the other in sudden agitation—"there do be doubts o' General Arnold's acquittal now! My cousin told me, though, of course, in private, for public belief in his exonera​tion is favorable, that he is afraid the general is going to be sorely disappointed!"
"When will General Arnold know the result o' his trial?" inquired Mehitable.
"Not for weeks, mayhap!" Tabitha shook her head sadly. "I fear 'twill turn him into a bitter man, one ready for disloyalty, e'en," she added.
"Oh, no!—how could a patriot as fine as General Arnold e'er turn traitor to his country!" cried Mehitable, shocked.
But Tabitha continued shaking her head. "An he thinks his compatriots deemed him unworthy, remembering not what he had done for his country, remembering not the wounds he had undergone for the sake o' that country, listening only to words against him, no telling what might happen, Hitty!" she said sagely, unconscious that she was forecasting General Arnold's terrible act which later was to shock everyone.
Mehitable stopped her spinning wheel, and, rising, came over to the other girl. "Tabbie," she said quietly, "art still comparing General Arnold's fate with the possible one o' your brother?"
Tabitha stood stock still, twisting and untwisting her hands and refusing to meet Mehitable's kindly, searching gaze.
"Aye." Facing away from her obstinately, Tabitha nodded at last.
​"But why, my dear?" Mehitable gently drew her around. "Do ye know, Tabbie, I vow part o' your trouble is anticipating it! Always ye do look on the dark side o' things. Ye said that ye had suspicioned your brother being a Tory, despite his telling you he was patriot. Well, mayhap events would have happened as they did, yet would ye have been spared days, weeks o' suffering, had ye not brooded over it. Ye not only meet trouble halfway, but ye take a stagecoach to get ye there quicker!"
"A stagecoach?" Poor Tabitha looked at Mehitable without humor.
"In your mind, child," responded Mehitable, laughing and impatient. "A make-believe stagecoach!"
"But, Hitty, I can't help being that way," said Tabitha gently.
Mehitable looked at her for a long moment and finally sighed. "I fear ye be right," she returned. "But I do feel sorry for ye, Tabbie!"
About three o'clock that afternoon, Mehitable and Charity, restless from confinement, started out through the blizzard. They had seized upon the slight excuse of borrowing some thread for Mistress Lindsley from her friend, the housekeeper at headquarters.
"And mayhap we could see the son o' Mistress Ford's—Timothy, who be home wounded," sug​gested Mehitable, trudging along with her head bent before the whirlwind of snow that drifted up the lane toward them.
"Aye." Charity's voice was doubtful. Presently she added, "But I like not visiting strange young men, Hitty!"
"Oh, Cherry, when he be ill and wounded!" exclaimed the more sociable Mehitable. "Fie, suppose it were Young Cy!" And she turned to look over her shoulder at the other.
Charity, plodding behind her sister with down-bent head, did not see the mischief lurking in Mehitable's dark eyes, and she answered her remorsefully, her tender heart instantly touched.
"You are right, Hitty! I do feel ashamed!"
They were admitted to the Ford residence by the Negro doorman, and asking for Mistress Thompson were directed to a little rear room back of the dining room. There they found the lady poring over her accounts. She greeted them kindly and pushed back her papers with a rueful laugh.
"Nay, I am glad to be interrupted!" she exclaimed in answer to Mehitable's apology, "'Tis a task, to make army rations serve a general's table. My poor head be aweary trying to stretch portions and menus! Master Timothy?" she added, in response to Mehitable's inquiry. "Ah, this be one of his bad days, my child. I fear his mother will ​allow no one to see him. I will ask her, an ye wait, however!"
"Nay!" Mehitable started up. "Please disturb no one. We will come again, mistress. An ye give me the thread Mistress Lindsley desires, Charity and I will go back, I think, for"—she glanced out of the window, against which the snow was drifting in such moist, wet quantities as to shut out the light—"the storm be growing worse!"
They followed the housekeeper out into the hall and waited at the foot of the stairs while she went up to her room to get the desired thread. As they stood there, shy and rather ill at ease, suddenly there swept through the house a vague flurry of excitement, followed by a commotion outside the door. Measured footsteps sounded then upon the stairway, and General Washington, followed by Colonel Hamilton, descended, as hurriedly as his dignity would allow him. The Negro was already at the door, with his hand upon the latch, and now other servants came in, to line up in a respectful group, and as Mistress Ford came down the stairs, he opened the great door.
As Mehitable and Charity shrank back in embarrassment, a short, stout figure, much wrapped in furs, came up the outside steps from a sleigh and was met at the threshold by His Excellency, who, a tender smile upon his face, bent to kiss his wife.
Mistress Ford now stepped forward, a welcoming ​smile upon her sweet face, also, and then the small, plump woman who was destined to be the First Lady of the Land was led up to her room by husband and hostess and the others, as the door of the built-in stairs closed behind that group, dispersed, scattering to their interrupted tasks.
Mehitable nudged Charity. "I think 'tis better for us not to wait, Cherry," she whispered. "Mistress Thompson, I fear, hath forgotten us!"
Charity, nodding, turned toward the front door. But as the two girls arrived there, a deep voice arrested their footsteps.
"How now, Mistress Condit? Hath yet found thy buckle?" And Mehitable, turning back, looked up into the smiling dark eyes of Alexander Hamilton.
"My sister Charity, sir!" She presented Charity to him. "Nay," she added sorrowfully, the introduction having been accomplished. "I have not seen it since the night the fellow Simpson took it! I wonder an he e'er reached headquarters wi' his stolen report? My brother and I saw him not long hence i' the woods—he attacked us wi' some other Tory villains—poor Tabbie, I did not tell her 'twas her brother among them, Charity." Mehitable interrupted herself to turn to the younger girl, who nodded her approval.
"I ha' not the least doubt Simpson reached British headquarters," returned Hamilton, replying ​to Mehitable's half question. "The enemy have not molested us, at any rate. We have ye to thank for the ruse, mistress."
"Nay, I did naught!" protested Mehitable modestly.
"Nay—but you did!" answered Hamilton laughingly. "My child," the ancient young man of twenty-three or four looked at her in solemn admonition, "always accept praise when it be merited!"
Mehitable, at this, for her brother had told her of Hamilton's youth, could not control her twitching lips. Alexander Hamilton, glancing at her obliquely and reading aright the "Yes, Grandsire!" look in her dancing eyes, burst into irrepressible laughter, in which the two girls joined him, so that they were unaware of the descent of His Excellency, with Madam Washington and Mistress Ford, from the second floor until the three were upon them.
"Ah, Colonel Hamilton, how nice to meet ye once more!" exclaimed Madam Washington, hastening forward. Having greeted her husband's secretary, of whom she was very fond, with kindly warmth, she turned inquiringly to the two young girls.
"This be little Mistress Condit and her sister!" said His Excellency, advancing to Madam's side. "Captain Condit's relatives, my dear, from the Newark Mountains."
​"I have heard o' ye, I believe, both from the general and your brother," said Madam Washington in her friendly yet dignified way. "I am glad to meet ye both!"
As she turned away with Mistress Ford, who was showing her about the house which was to be her winter home, the girls, curtseying, looked after her with keen interest. They saw a small, plump, well-formed woman in a simple gown and cap. A speckled homespun apron was tied around her waist, and in a knitting bag swinging from her arm could be noticed needles with a gray stocking well in the making on them. Upon retreating from a brief inspection of the parlor, Mehitable and Charity heard her mention Trenton.
"The Virginia troops were paraded i' my honor," she was telling her husband, with simple pleasure. She smiled again at the girls in passing. Colonel Hamilton was then summoned by his chief, and once more the girls turned toward the door.
"Wait!" said a breathless voice. Mistress Thompson, closing the door to the stair well behind her, hurried forward. "I am so sorry! First, I could not find the thread! Then Mistress Ford asked me to remain wi' her son while she came down to greet Madam Washington! There seemed no way o' letting ye know, for though there are many servants i' the house, yet, as is always the way, none passed Master Timothy's door just then. ​And I liked not to ask Mistress Ford to charge her mind wi' telling ye!"
Mehitable took the little package of thread which Mistress Thompson handed to her, and putting it into her reticule, looked at the other laughingly.
"Your tarrying upstairs gave us opportunity to meet His Excellency's lady, so we feel not at all wrought up o'er your not appearing!" she remarked, curtseying. And Mistress Thompson instantly congratulated her, saying that not everyone could have that privilege, for Madam Washington was a home body, did not go forth abroad much, and generally was to be seen only by chance, as had happened that day.
"Come again, young maids," she said, nodding and smiling as she let them out the door.
Wending their way back through the storm, which had indeed grown worse, and now blew them along toward home with a wintry force that made them lean upon the wind, with their capes and their skirts flying out in front of them as though leading the way, the sisters were full of their unexpected glimpse of the great lady.
"But she be so homelike!" said Mehitable, in a disappointed voice. "I thought to see a fine lady!"
"Aye, so did I, wearing a gown o' silk and satin! Why, Hitty, she—she might ha' been Mother, wi' ​her apron and her knitting and all!" Charity looked thoughtful as she scuffled along through the snow. "She is just like anybody! Yet," she added in her sensible way, 'tis doubtless better for General Washington that she be only a homebody, since his home, these war years, must be such as she can make it for him. "And fine ladies—the ones who dress i' silks and satins, ye mind—do not make real homes for any one very often! Ye know, Hitty, the more I think o't, the more sure I be that 'tis not always the fine ladies who wear fine clothes, anyway!"