# Mistress Madcap Surrenders/Chapter 6

IT BE from John!" announced Mehitable, in atone of quiet but profound satisfaction.
She and Charity were hanging over a note which they had spread open upon the table in Mistress Lindsley's kitchen. Charity, all excited ftutterings from her cap ruffles to the ripples in her linsey-woolsey skirt, had just brought it to her sister from the door, where a messenger had placed it in her hand.
The bright sunshine streaming across the sanded floor, the cheerful snap and crackle of the fire, the home song of the teakettle—all these sounds were in utter contrast to the terror and excitement of those hours a few nights previous, when the ominous dread of intimate warfare had hovered over the house. Now it seemed as though that memory were a bad dream and only hope and happiness could exist.
"Let us tell Cousin Eliza at once!" proposed Charity. "She will be so pleased to know we are invited, Hitty! And then let us look at our party gowns!"
​"Stay! Stay!" Cousin Eliza looked from one to the other in laughing dismay when, bursting into her room, the two eager voices tried to tell her at once about the note, and Mehitable and Charity fairly pranced around her bed with girlish rapture. "I can understand nothing! Nothing at all! Now, Hitty, you may tell me, since you evidently possess the note!"
"Cherry really thought o' telling you," began Mehitable honestly; but at her cousin's little frown and Charity's quick, "That be all right—you tell her, Hitty," she rushed on. "I'll read it, coz, then you can judge for yourself an we have cause for joy! Ahem!" She cleared her throat and, looking over the edge of the paper, pompously read her note in a deep, impressive voice.
"Mistress Mehitable Condit. Dear Sis:
"I take my pen in hand to ask your company and that of our sister Charity this eve at an assembly to be held at ye Arnold Tavern. I will call for you at eight o'clock. Adieu.J. Condit."
Charity clapped her hands as Mehitable ended the note, and their Cousin Eliza seemed scarcely less pleased.
"Ah, I was hoping ye would have opportunity to attend one of the assemblies!" she exclaimed in great satisfaction. "Now, what are ye to wear?"
"Our mother hath seen to that!" answered ​Mehitable proudly, and forthwith told the tale of Mistress Condit's little sacrifice. Charity ran to fetch one of the dresses for her cousin's inspection who, if she had any criticism to make of the simple creation, did not express it. She did, however, insist upon their accepting certain articles of adornment from her own wardrobe—dainty slippers, fans, ribbons, and a fine lace kerchief for Mehitable. The latter immediately tried her slippers on and regarded the shining buckles that graced the toes with blissful eyes.
"John owns the only nice buckles in our family," she said frankly. "They be heirlooms which my father gave him on his eighteenth birthday. I do hope"—she wriggled her foot anxiously—"I do hope these buckles be fastened securely."
"I think the catches are good." Cousin Eliza glanced at them reassuringly. "Though I should hate to have ye lose them, Hitty, for they were my wedding buckles and possess a sentimental value not covered by money," she added.
"Oh, la, coz!" Mehitable looked at her in distress. "I fear me, then, I had better not borrow them!"
"Nay, what could happen them!" laughed Cousin Eliza. She put up her hand when Mehitable would have removed the slippers. "Ah, wear them!" she implored. "I like to think of the pretty things being worn where there is dancing ​once more. I shall carry the blame an ye lose them!" And so the matter was settled.
How long that day seemed to the girls! The household tasks, which they shared as a matter of course and which had become heavier since the responsible Tabitha's departure, reading aloud by turns to the sick woman, running her errands—none of these duties seemed to make the hours pass more swiftly this day. Mehitable, thinking this and drumming nervously upon a frosty window pane about five o'clock, turned in relief at Mistress Lindsley's hurried entrance. Somehow, her manner boded a break in the monotonous hours.
"Hitty," she said, "I wonder an ye can help me out!"
"Aye," responded Mehitable cordially. "What is it?"
"Why, I clean forgot that this afternoon I was to send biscuit to headquarters! Tabbie generally bakes them and takes them to Mistress Ford's, and with her being away, the matter slipped my mind!" explained Mistress Lindsley.
"I shall be glad to take them for ye!" exclaimed Mehitable delightedly.
"That is well!" Mistress Lindsley heaved a sigh of relief as she went toward the pantry. "Though it do be growing dark," she added, stopping to glance worriedly out the window. "Such short ​days, now!" she said fretfully. "And when ye are going to the assembly to-night—nay——"
"Nay, I be glad to go!" interrupted Mehitable. "I shall be glad o' the opportunity to visit the headquarters, ye mind," her honesty compelled her to add. "Mayhap I shall see His Excellency!"
"I fear not!" Mistress Lindsley hastened to disillusion her. "Ye will be expected at the kitchen door, Hitty!"
For a moment, Mehitable's face was a study of distaste and hurt pride; then her native sense was in evidence. "Oh, well," she said jauntily, "at least I shall see the outside o' the mansion John has told me so much about! Where be the biscuits?"
Not fifteen minutes later, she was approaching the stately home which Colonel Jacob Ford, Jr., had built about three years before, and which, now occupied by his widow and family, had been offered by Mistress Ford to General Green as headquarters and personal residence for General Washington this winter.
Mehitable, staring curiously at the ten or twelve log huts built for the guard across the lane from the Ford grounds, was about to enter the gate when a rough voice bade her halt, and she raised her startled eyes to find herself confronted by a sentry.
"Please," she said timidly, "I desire to convey this to the kitchen." She pointed to the package ​of biscuit she was carrying and handed the soldier a note Mistress Lindsley had written as a pass.
The man read it, scratched a puzzled head, stared again at the note, and shook his head dubiously. "Ye had best leave the package with me, and I will take it up later, myself. They like not young females traipsing around the grounds!" he said.
Mehitable drew herself up. "Sir!" she said grandly.
"Nay," the soldier shook his head phlegmatically. She might have as well spoken to the stormy sunset in the west. "Nay—ye had best leave the package with me, and I——"
"Nay!" Mehitable shook her head.
"—I will take it up later, myself. They like not young females traipsing around the grounds!" he repeated. "I will be off duty soon," he added unexpectedly.
This, of course, would have been acceptable to Mehitable had she not desired a closer view of the Ford mansion.
"That will not do at all!" she said firmly now. She was ready to stamp her feet between vexation and impatience. "The—the biscuit"—she had a happy thought—"the biscuit are to be served at His Excellency's table for supper, and of course, ye might not get them there in time!" She smiled brilliantly. But it was all wasted, for the guard, ​while a little shaken by her logic, remained fixed in his obstinate refusal to allow her entrance. He was, indeed, commencing to grind out his neat little speech, which he evidently regarded with pride, when a new voice broke into the midst of it.
"How now, sir? What be the trouble here?"
To Mehitable's surprise, for her back had been turned to the road, the sentry flushed a bright pink, while his hand flew to his forehead in a stiff salute. But her confusion was fully as great when, wheeling, she fairly bumped into a party of gentlemen who had approached unnoticed on foot. She managed to drop a curtsey, however, despite her overwhelming embarrassment and the pans of biscuit she carried, and the leader of the group, a stately, serious-faced man, who had addressed the sentry, looked down at her.
The next instant, recognition dawned in his fine eyes, for the fortunes of warfare had caused them to meet before, and his face lighted up benignly.
"Good-evening, my child!" he greeted her in his deep voice. "'Tis my little friend o' Newark Mountains, is it not?"
Mehitable swept him another curtsey, "Aye, Your Excellency, and—and—I come from Mistress Lindsley's—where I be visiting and—and—whence I am to go to—the—the rout this night—well, I come from there—Mistress Lindsley's, ye mind, ​with a—with some pans o' biscuit for your supper, sir!" she stammered.
General Washington, listening to her patiently, answered her as kindly. "Come with us, then, my child. Mistress Thompson, our housekeeper, will wi'out doubt welcome this contribution to the supper. This young lady may pass," he added to the guard. "Now and in the future!"
Red of face, hating herself for having blurted out the silly little speech, poor Mehitable turned silently and stumbled along beside General Washington, his aides falling a step behind. As they proceeded up the driveway, he summoned one of the young soldiers forward, however.
"This is little Mistress Condit, Colonel Hamilton," said His Excellency. "The sister of one of our young surgeons, John Condit, ye mind."
Mehitable, acknowledging the young secretary's bow, was aware of a tall, slim figure, of a pair of handsome dark eyes and—whimsical generous mouth, and instantly liked Alexander Hamilton.
"But won't Cherry die o' envy when I tell her!" she thought, laughing to herself.
There was barely time for a polite sentence or two between the young people across the broad buff and blue form of His Excellency, who listened with a kindly, absent look, before they reached the front steps of the mansion. The wide door, with its beautiful side lights, was opened by a Negro, ​and Mehitable passed breathlessly into the wide hall of the headquarters.
To her country-bred eyes, vast rooms seemed to lead off in every direction. People seemed to be passing through the hall in a constant procession, and the hum of busy voices came to her ears. It was a house of business. Nothing homelike in the stately parlor to the left of her. Nothing intimate in the glimpse she had of dining room to the right of her. Life was here; but life in its most soulless, systematic, formal phase. One became aware of that at once. A quiet-eyed woman in homespun advancing to meet them was a single note of relief in the atmosphere of pressing routine.
"This be a young friend o' mine from near Newark Mountains," said General Washington, glancing kindly at the young girl. "I will turn her o'er to your care now, Mistress Thompson. And I will bid ye good-evening, my child."
Mehitable curtseyed to him and to Colonel Hamilton as they went toward the rear of the hall to a small room beneath the stairs. Then she turned bashfully to the housekeeper.
"I be Mehitable Condit, from Mistress Lindsley's. I have brought biscuit," she began.
"Ah—good!" Mistress Thompson interrupted her briskly. "Let us take them to the kitchen. I know His Excellency will enjoy them for supper."
Once inside the big kitchen, they came upon a ​scene of confusion. People and yet more people—the room seemed to be filled. At least three persons were engaged before the immense fireplace, all trying not too successfully to keep out of one another's way. Mistress Ford, herself, was present, directing the preparation of a special dish for her son Timothy who, home wounded and ill, had an appetite which must be tempted. There were eighteen in General Washington's official family, or would be when Mrs. Washington, with her servants, would arrive at the end of the month—and all of Mistress Ford's family and servants, the housekeeper told Mehitable in a low voice.
"It is extremely hard for us to manage," she went on. "His Excellency hopes to be able to build a log room on this end of the house for our kitchen, in the near future, and another room of logs on the other end for his office," she added. She curtseyed to Mistress Ford, at that moment passing. "This is Captain Condit's sister, madam," she said, putting out a hand to stop the lady.
Mistress Ford paused. She was a graciously formed, sweet-faced woman, the daughter of Parson Johnes who toiled and preached and lived a life of fine example in Morris Town at that time.
"How do you do, my dear," she greeted her. "Staying with Mistress Lindsley?" she repeated in answer to her own question. "I see! Well, ye must come up sometime and see my son Timothy. ​Poor lad, time hangs so heavy upon his hands! Gabriel"—she turned to a boy who, sniffing hungrily, had stuck his head in at the door—"go you home with Mistress Condit, dear. This is my second son, Gabriel," she introduced him smilingly. "Nay, it is dark, now, and not proper for a young woman to be out alone and the soldiers be about," she answered Mehitable's protest that she was not afraid to return alone.
Mehitable, smiling to herself as she thought of that adventurous trip through the woods to the powder mill with soldiers the night of the threatened British attack, now made her adieux. Escorted by the tall, awkward lad, she soon arrived at Mistress Lindsley's home. On the way, however, she learned various interesting bits of harmless gossip about life at the headquarters and much about Colonel Hamilton, to whom Gabriel seemed devotedly attached.
"But, oh, Cherry!" mourned Mehitable, when she had bade her youthful escort farewell at the door and she had tripped into the house to find Mistress Lindsley and Charity awaiting her arrival rather anxiously. "Oh, Cherry, Colonel Hamilton is betrothed! To a very lovely lady, Master Gabriel says—a Miss Elizabeth Schuyler—daughter of General Schuyler and niece o' Mistress Cochran. Doctor Cochran is surgeon general, ye mind, and is staying at the same house, Dr. Jabez ​Campfield's, that John is staying at. Mayhap we will meet Mistress Schuyler—though 'tis doubtful she is here in town just now, for she lives in Albany."
Charity did not seem as cast down by news of Colonel Hamilton's engagement as might have been expected. "Didst see Young Cy?" she asked with apparent irrelevance, and when her sister shook her head, she added staidly, "Well, no doubt we'll see him this night at the rout!"