The Prescott daily news., 1914-06-24
THE DANGER SIGNAL

tic bench built round the old beech tree, which in 1672, was one of me glories of the Bury Farm.
 She looked up quickly and seeing her mother beckohing to her from one of the windows of the quaint gabled house, she darted from her seat, and ran hastily indoors, upsetting in her agitation the ball Of wool with which she had been working and which now rolled unheeded on the ground.
 What was there to alarm the young girl amidst 9 scene which seemed so full of peace and quiet security?
 There stood the farm-its usual gables protected by one of those noble beeches which form the glory of Buekinghamshire England, to which indeed it owes its name, for Bucking- ham-the antiquarian tells us-is but a corruption of Beeching- ham. A we'll cut hedge separated the little garden from the meadow, which sloped away from the house, and on this field some sheep were peacefully cropping the short grass. The larks were singing their evening hymn in the blue sky above them. and merry little squir- rel was clucking to himself as he ran along the boughs of the beech-tree un- der which Maria Springett had so lately been sitting
 Surely, here, if anywhere, was peace and safety Outwardly, no doubt, Bury Farm was peaceful enough-it would be difficult to find a more seclud- ed spot. But for all that, danger was constantly threatening it, and this was well known to two of it's chief in mates, Mrs Pennington and her daughter, Maria.
 They had indeed grave reasons for their anxiety Alice Pendleton was the wife of the celebrated Quaker writ CT, Isaac Pendleton and the laws against Quakers being at that time (1672) very severe and most rigorous ly enforced. they well knew that if Isaac Pennington were discovered holding meeting of Friends" he would not only be heavily fined, but also imprisoned, and the horrors of Imprisonment in those days could hardly be exaggerated.
 However, fears of Imprisonment, or even death, did not daunt Pennington from what he believed to be his duty, and this very evening he was away preaching at "Jordans," poor little meeting house, which can still be seen, and which stands in a hollow among dense woods A most lonely spot, but chosen for that very reason for their meeting house by the little band of Quakers who hoped that surely three miles away from any dwelling-they might be safe.
 But those were prosecuting times, and some one had discovered and de- nounced the Quakers at "Jordans" and Alice Pennington had seen from her window-which commanded the dis tant road band of constabulary marching in the direction of Bury Farm. There was little doubt whom they were coming to seek.
 "Yes, yes," she said, in answer to the hurried inquiry of the girl. Thee must hastenl they are after thy step father and William Penn. Thee cans't see the bikes shining on wonder hill. Now thou must do thy part! l must bide here; but go thou to the thsee- acre, and as thou runnest, wave thy kerchief. Dan will see it-he is on the knoll above the field, soaring birds; but that is but a feint-he was to bide there till he saw the kerchief, and Dan is a trusty lad, and knows what to do. Go, child and the Lord prosper thee"
 Maria needed no second bidding She was out of the house like an ar row from the bow, and as she ran down the sloping meadow, she held out her white kerchief which futtered like flag in the light summer breeze
 Dan, up on the knoll, caught sight of the pre-arranged danger signal, and sped quickly away in the direc ton of Jordans" the birds to do as they liked with the corn and Maria, her mission over, lay down on the ground-too excited to return to the house.
 It was not the run That was nothing to the hearty country girl-it ..,o. ra. IL