Along the corridor of the floor where their own suite was located, George led his army, and once safely inside that friendly door, he quickly slammed and locked it.
The five sank down on the floor, and rocked back and forth in hysterics of fun.
"Oh! That was the best fight we've ever had!" finally cried Martha.
An imperative knock at the door made them all jump, however.
"Run to your rooms and tear off these uniforms! Fire them in the closets or anywhere and jump in bed. Cover yourselves with the bedclothes before Maggie comes in with a pass-key!" ordered George quickly.
A second rap on the door found them all quickly removing the uniforms, and before Maggie could get her pass-key, the five quiet, dear little darlings were snugly tucked in five beds snoring soundly.
The proprietor stood in the parlor wonderingly, but Maggie crept to the doors and held up a warning hand for quiet.
"They is all fast asleep, sir!" whispered she.
The dazed man shook his head, and went out thinking deeply over the queer occurrence. Could five bellboys have played that joke? But no, there was one with curls, and the maid had said the five children were not in the rooms when she sought for them!
As soon as the crowd had dispersed, Maggie went to the room where the two little girls slept in twin beds.
"That ice cream will all be melted to nuthing," said wily Maggie.
Instantly the girls were out of bed. "Where is it?"
"Ha! Tell me the truth and I'll give you the cream!" said Maggie coaxingly.
The boys heard the word "cream" and they fell into their clothes and appeared at the parlor door about the same time the two girls and Maggie came from the room.
The story was told, and Maggie, finding herself as much at fault as the soldiers, promised to put the uniforms back in the closet, while the children sat down and enjoyed a double portion of ice cream.
An automobile was hired for the day, and as early as was practical, the party started for Bronx Park. Here they took a quick survey of the horticultural gardens and stopped a short time at the zoo, then on to the historic points of Fordham and the Bronx. Then they visited the stately mansion of the old Morris family on the Harlem River, where Washington had made his headquarters during the time he was in New York with his army.
From this place, the party went to White Plains, and saw the places still remaining to mark the points of historic interest. Thence to Dobb's Ferry, where the fine old house used by Washington for his headquarters had been purchased by a rich American, and restored to its original state.
The visitors crossed the river at this place and went to Fort Lee, but nothing of interest could be found here.
"It is much like the man himself! General Lee ruined his character and honor when he permitted the British to capture him in dressing gown and slippers!" scorned Mrs. Parke, who had always felt the utmost contempt for this disobedient American.
"I wish we had time to cross from here and visit Morristown—it is not so far in distance, but have we time to-day?" ventured Mrs. Davis.
"I have an idea!" exclaimed Mr. Parke. "What do you say if we wire the garage in New York that we will not return till to-morrow? We can then go to Newburgh and West Point, and later on to Morristown, and remain there for the night at some first-class hotel. It will be a relief to get away from the din of the New York streets, and rest in the quiet peace of a suburban town."
"We would not reach Morristown till long after dinner," said Mrs. Parke, thinking of the tiresome ride for the children.
"Well, ask the chauffeurs about it—they ought to know the distance and time it would take to go from Newburgh to Morristown," said Mrs. Davis.
Both chauffeurs declared that it was too late to think of visiting West Point and Newburgh that day, and to cross-country to Morristown was a very poor road to travel. So it was decided to return to the city and start the next morning for West Point on the small steamer running between that point and New York. In this way, the children could see the grand old Hudson and its sights. If it were possible, and the day fair, they would drive to Morristown and the places in its vicinity made famous by Revolutionary tactics.
Mrs. Graham had arranged with her aunt that John and she would remain at home all of the following day to meet friends and distant relatives of the family. Thus John was disappointed in this trip up the Hudson, for he would have much preferred to be with his friends, than sit in a darkened old city mansion, listening to folks talk about their family.
Early on the following day, therefore, the Parkes and Davises sailed up the Hudson, passing the Sailors' Monument and Grant's Tomb on the way. The Palisades attracted admiration, for the foliage of late fall glorified the steep cliffs of the river.
Past Yonkers, called "Younkers" in the old Dutch days, they sailed again, passing Dobb's Ferry, where they had visited the day before, and so on to Stony Point.
"Who can tell the story of Stony Point?" asked Mr. Parke.
The children looked at each other, but they seemed anxious not to venture information which might be incorrect, so Mrs. Parke decided to help them over the difficulty.
"Fortifications had been started at West Point, as it looked more defensible than positions lately occupied by Fort Clinton and Fort Montgomery. But the works at West Point were far from completion, and Washington knew that communication must be kept open between the middle and eastern states. Detachments of his army occupied positions on both sides the river, commanding the ferry and protecting the incomplete works above. On the west bank, stationed on an elevated section of ground called Stony Point, defences had been started but were far from being completed. On the east bank, a small fort called Lafayette's on Verplanck's Point, projecting out into the river, was nearer completion than the works on the other side.
"Now, the intention of the British was to reduce both these works and capture West Point, along with Washington's division, and perhaps, that of the State of the Confederacy.
"The unfinished works at Stony Point, garrisoned by but forty men, was too weak to defend itself against Clinton's large division of the British army, landing on the eastern bank of the river, placed under command of Vaughan, so it was abandoned after setting fire to the block-house. The garrison took stores and ammunition with them, and Clinton took possession of it without opposition. During the night he had cannon and mortars brought up and planted on the brow of the hill, opposite the fort on the other side of the river.
"At five o'clock in the morning, a heavy fire was opened upon Fort Lafayette by the command at Stony Point, and two vessels in the river managed to pass the fort, thus cutting off all chance of escape by water. General Vaughan made a circuit by land, thus completely surrounding the little garrison of seventy men. Captain Armstrong, the commander of the fort, and his men, held out all day and then capitulated.
"Clinton ordered both forts completed at once, but Washington, having heard of the British general's advance up the river, had strengthened West Point and taken up a strong position at Smith's Cove, so that the English found it unwise to attack the American forces at that time. Besides Staten Island was threatened in his absence, so he left garrisons at the two posts captured, and retired to Phillipsburg, to be ready to assist in New York and its dependencies, or at either of the other captured forts if necessary.
"A garrison of 1000 men was left at Stony Point, and one of 5000 men at Fort Lafayette, but Clinton determined to draw the American army, so he sent Tryon with 2600 men into Connecticut. After pillaging New Haven and destroying property at Fairfield, Norwalk and Greenfield, laying the towns in ashes, and treating the people with the greatest brutality, he essayed to treat New London in the same manner, but the people were roused to such a degree, by the reports from their neighboring towns, that they opposed Tryon successfully. Hence he returned to New York to boast of his exploits.
"News of the invasion of Connecticut was late in reaching Washington, as he was visiting outposts in the vicinity of Stony Point. He understood the design of Clinton, however, so did not weaken his forces in the Highlands to assist the troops in Connecticut; on the contrary, he planned a counter-attack on Stony Point, which, if successful, would alarm Clinton and induce him to recall the detachment from Connecticut, to defend the outpost on the river.
"Secrecy was one of the essential things to the success of this plan. One brigade was ordered to march so as to reach the scene of the action about the time the troops engaged in the attack, and so render assistance should disaster befall them.
"As you can see from the boat here, Stony Point is a hill projecting far out into the river, with three sides washed by the Hudson, and the other side attached to the mainland by a deep marsh.
"Over this marsh there was but one crossing-place, but where it joins with the river there is a sandy beach. On the summit of the hill stood the fort. Besides the garrison there were some vessels stationed in the river to command the foot of the fort.
"At half-past eleven at night, two columns of Continentals marched with unloaded muskets, and bayonets fixed, preceded by a forlorn hope of twenty men. They crossed the marsh undiscovered, and at twenty minutes to twelve, commenced the assault.
"Surmounting every obstacle, they mounted and entered the works without discharging a single musket. They obtained possession of the fort, without the display of cruelty so prevalent in the British ranks, although sixty-three of the garrison were killed. The prisoners amounted to upward of five hundred, and the value of the military stores taken was considerable.
"An attempt was made on the opposite fort but failed. This failure, with the fifteen hundred men it would take to garrison Stony Point against the enemy's shipping, caused Washington to demolish and abandon the fort. But Clinton re-occupied and repaired it again immediately.
"Then Washington established his headquarters at West Point in July, and from that time to December, he gave his attention to the completion of the works at that post."
"Look on the right, children! There you will see the Verplanck's Point your aunt has just been describing to you as holding Fort Lafayette," called Mr. Davis, pointing out the spot to the eager children.
From that point on till the boat reached Newburgh, the elders entertained the children with various descriptions of places passed.
After visiting the headquarters at Newburgh, and going on to visit West Point, where the children were deeply interested in watching the cadets practice, they returned to the landing where they intended taking the boat back to New York. But they were too late. It had gone half an hour before they reached the dock.
"That means we must go back by train," said Mr. Parke.
"We'll get to New York much earlier than expected. We might accomplish some other visit," suggested Mrs. Davis.
"Oh, no. The return will mean that we will have time for rest before starting the trip to Morristown to-morrow," said Mrs. Parke.
So that evening was really the first quiet or restful one enjoyed since the travellers reached New York. And in the morning, all were eager to continue their historical visits.
Through the flats of Hackensack and across the Passaic, the party rode, the elders pointing out various places that might interest the children. At Newark nothing of moment was found to convey any picture of Washington's campaign to the youthful admirers, so they continued on to Morristown.
Here they visited the old Fort Nonsense on the ridge, back of the town, and then inspected the headquarters, where a fine collection of furniture and other relics was kept on exhibition by the Washington Association of New Jersey.
Later they drove through Baskingridge and cross-country to Pluckimin and thus on to Brunswick. Trenton was passed through on the homeward route, and then on to Jersey City, and across the ferry to New York. In going through Trenton the old hall and other historic buildings were pointed out to the children.
That night George had a suggestion to offer.
"We've done nothing but see, andsee, andseeplaces since we've landed here from home, and I say that we now do something different."
"But this trip was planned to show you children all we could to enlighten you on history," replied Mrs. Parke.
"I feel so light that it would take little to waft me up to the sky," said Martha, hoping so to create sympathy.
"Now that we have completed the round of places to be visited in the interests of Revolutionary history, suppose we continue on our way to Philadelphia. There is a mine of historical places to be visited in and about that city; besides we will be home and we won't have to bother like we do in a hotel," said Mrs. Davis.
"I second that motion!" cried Jack.
"But our week of vacation is not yet over in New York," argued Mr. Parke.
"Well, why not leave you two men behind to finish up your week, while we go on with the children to prepare the people of the Quaker City for the unexpected coming of the Little Washingtons?" laughed Mrs. Parke.
"Do say yes, father!" begged Martha.
"I see! My own daughter wants to get away from my company!" exclaimed Mr. Parke tragically.
"We wouldn't if you were finished with your business affairs, but we know right well what will happen if we tear you away now! It will mean a delay all 'round," said Mrs. Parke, from former experiences.
"Well, then Sam and I will say 'good riddance' and send you off on the morrow's train from the Pennsylvania Station," agreed Mr. Parke.
That evening some city friends called at the hotel to see the Parkes and Davises, and wishing the children to get a good night's sleep, the parents decided to receive the callers in a parlor downstairs, and turn down the lights in their own parlor.
After they had gone down, George felt so restless he could not keep quiet, so he slipped out of bed and went out to the parlor to amuse himself. The lights were turned up again, and a souvenir book of the Woolworth building was found on the table. This book had been purchased when they were up in the tower, but so much had been crowded in the few days in the city, that no one had taken time to look at the pictures.
Now, however, George found the pictures and text very entertaining for want of company or something better to do. He pored over the illustration of the tower, wondering at the great height of the structure, and the manner in which it was built.
He sat in a corner of the comfortable couch, his bare feet sticking out from his new pajamas purchased that very day. As he read the book, his eyelids drooped several times, but George always fought off sleep to the very last moment, so he bravely refused to give in to it now.
Suddenly, as he turned a page of the book, he heard a stealthy step behind him, coming from the open window. He turned just in time to see a masked face lean over the couch, and then a great bony hand reached out and grabbed him under the arms and lifted him up.
George immediately essayed to scream for help, but a hand was placed over his mouth, while the man growled: "You help me gag him, then we'll tie this towel tight about his wrists and ankles."
This was done, while poor George was helpless to defend himself. He wondered if George Washington ever had such a cowardly game played on him.
"Now we'll sneak downstairs with him and watch our chance to get away," whispered the man to his accomplice.
George felt himself carried to the door, but in a sudden twist of his body he managed to slip out of the villain's grasp, and in rolling upon the floor, he upset a stand with a jardinière of flowers on it. This crashed down and woke up the other children, which was just what George wanted.
The two rascals quickly caught up their victim again, and rushed out, leaving the door wide open. The three other children were heard running out and calling "George! George!" but he could not reply.
Just as the two men reached the head of the stairs, the three pajamaed children ran out in the hall and saw them carrying George away. He saw them follow and heard them scream for help, but he himself was helpless to move or utter a sound.
Down the many flights of stairs the two men now rushed with their burden, the three night-dressed children running after. On the main floor, they fled down the wide marble ornamental stairs and through the lobby, throwing people right and left as they rushed madly for the door. The three white-robed friends of George followed close at the heels of the villains.
A hue and cry then started, and as the men reached the curb to jump into a waiting taxicab, the people of the hotel and the crowds on the street joined in the chase. The Parkes and Davises, and the children as well, all ran screaming to the sidewalk, yelling to every one to stop the runaways. George could hear this until the cab turned the corner and tore down Broadway.
As the reckless driver flew downtown, George held his breath in constant fear of being smashed to atoms by colliding with a trolley or automobile crossing one of the many streets.
Down the densely-thronged thoroughfare flew the cab, the police whistling signals for it to stop, and shooting revolvers at the tires to cause a puncture, but, strange to say, the cab escaped without a single damage to windows or tires.
By the time the runaways reached Union Square, a long mob of people were tearing after them, all in hot pursuit of the villains. In the foremost ranks ran the parents and the bare-footed, night-robed children. George heard the men say so, as they watched from the window in the back.
Down Fifth Avenue went the cab until it reached Washington Square. Under the famous Washington Arch it flew, one wheel striking the base and causing the cab to swerve. As it righted itself again, one of the wheels came loose, and so on down, down they tore in constant danger of throwing the wheel and being flung into a stone building or a passing trolley.
That fearful shaking and fear almost made George sick, but he remembered how Washington must have felt when everything seemed against him and his country. "Did he give up and let Howe get away with him and his army? No, siree! He did not. Neither will I!" thought George.
Finally the cab reached City Hall Park, and around the park it flew, while the two men wondered where they could go with their captive.
"Can't cross the bridge without being arrested, you know. They have guards there," said one.
"Can't go across to Liberty Island at this time of night. Can't go anywhere except to the Woolworth Tower!" said the other.
"Just the place! If any one follows we will drop him off!" threatened the first man.
So the cab pulled up by the side entrance to the Woolworth building, and the two men hustled George on an elevator inside, and made the man send the elevator to the top where the room was that visitors had to pass through to reach the tower. Here they found the man asleep, as no visitors were expected that night.
They bundled George on the tiny elevator that ran to the very tip-top of the tower, and one of the rascals ran it up. Then they went out on the narrow balcony that circled the tower. As they walked around here, dragging George by the belt of his pajamas, they watched the mob tearing across City Hall Park in pursuit.
George could look over the parapet, and he was sure he saw his mother in front, calling to him, 'way up in that tower. He wanted to assure her that he was brave and would be all right, but one of the men thought he was signalling to his friends.
"What shall we do if some of them follow us up here and try to catch us?" wondered one of the men.
"We'll warn them—we'll throw him over if they try to come up!" said the other, shaking a fist at the crowds in the park.
Meantime, as many as could get on the elevators, did come up to the room, but the small elevator that ran to the tower would only hold five or six at a time, and there was no one to run it. The man who slept in the chair could not be roused, so Mr. Parke said he would run the lift to the top.
The two villains threatened in vain—George's father started for the balcony to save his son. Then the men lifted George upon the stone guard, and he could look down into the dizzy depths, where the people ran about like ants on the earth.
"If you step another inch, down he goes!" roared one of the men.
"What shall we do?" wailed Mrs. Parke, wringing her hands.
While one of the men stood guard at the door that opened on the balcony, the other carried George around to the other side of the balcony. The moment George found but one man to hold him, he squirmed and wriggled so that he soon got out of the fellow's hold, and then he managed in some way to free his two hands.
The man tried to hold him again, but with his hands free George also managed to free his feet. Then he jumped up and defied the rascal. As the man turned to call his partner, George saw that the mayor had ordered an aeroplane from Governor's Island to rise and save him. Determined to hold off the two villains long enough to give the aviators time to reach the tower, George ran around and around the tower—the door leading to the balcony having been bolted on the outside by the villain on guard to keep help and friends from reaching George. Then, as the aeroplane almost flew over George's head, the men saw it and realized that they would soon lose their prize unless they could catch him again. So one of them planned to go one way, and the other the other way, and so catch George before he could be carried off.
Fortunately for George, an experienced aviator flew the machine, and as he swooped down in a graceful loop, he dropped a tackle out and caught George in the back of his pajamas. Just as the two men met in a swift run around the balcony and bumped together, they saw their victim lifted out of their grasp, and they jumped to catch hold of him.
But the plane was swiftly skimming over the city on its way to the hangars on Governor's Island. George never dared to move or even breathe for fear that the great hook would rip the madras of his pajama coat and so let him drop.
The aeroplane reached the water, however, and was speeding over the bay to the island, when George heard an ominous r-r-rip at his back. He tried to call to his friend, the aviator, to haul him up, but the madras kept right on tearing once it started, and just as George could see the aviation field on the island, and could feel the aeroplane rapidly descending, the material in the coat gave way entirely and down plunged the luckless George into the deep water.
The mayor had very thoughtfully ordered the whistles on the bay to blow, and many scows and other craft tied up for the night, showed lights or blew whistles. Just as the coat began tearing, a powerful searchlight, called the Sperry light, shot across the bay, and when George fell, a great chorus of steam-whistles started their warning signals to ferryboats and other ships that were still passing back and forth.
George felt himself going down, down into the water, but it was not as cold as he feared it might be. He soon bobbed up on the surface, and no sooner had his head appeared in the great flashing pathway of light shed on the bay, than a submarine shot past and a long arm lifted him out of the water and dragged him into the hold.
Down went the submarine, and George rubbed the salt water from his eyes to find himself a prisoner of some fierce-looking German pirates.
They taunted him at first, but when the captain came in from his private den, they were silenced.
"Who are you?" demanded the captain.
"I am George Washington, commander-in-chief of the American forces!" proudly replied George.
"Yah! Such a fine prize ve never hoped to get in New York vaters. Frents, ve sail home mit him to once, and present him to our Kaiser!" gloated the captain, rubbing his hands together.
Immediately the men in the submarine went to work, and George felt the undersea craft fairly flying through the water. But they left him alone, never dreaming that he was a brave and determined fighter. When no one was looking, George crept over to the opening where the torpedoes were shoved in and launched. He had a desperate idea.
He managed to swing a torpedo about and slide it in the tube. Then he managed in some marvelous manner, to close the door of the tube, first seating himself astride the torpedo. He pulled with all his might on a cord that hung inside the tube, and simultaneously with the opening of the steel plate in front of the torpedo, the swift missile shot forth from the submarine.
George had no idea where it might strike, but he clung like a leech to the slippery sides, as it flew through the green waters. So swiftly did it fly that George never had a good look at the shark that swam up eager to eat him.
Suddenly something deflected the torpedo, and it rose up on the surface and skimmed over the top of the waves. Straight on for Brooklyn Heights the awful explosive went, and all George could see was General Howe giving the sign to hang Nathan Hale to a telegraph pole, when the torpedo struck and blew all of Long Island into the air. George rose with it, and while he tried to catch his breath, the great American eagle flew over his head and stretched out a claw. He was firmly held in this clutch, and carried dangling over the East River and right up to the cupola of City Hall, where the eagle had built a nest, all unknown to the citizens.
George was just about to pat the eagle on the head, when the patriotic mayor climbed to the cupola and thanked the eagle for his services. Then he turned to George:
"I knew such a great general as Washington could not be carried a prisoner to the Kaiser. I have kept our great American eagle roosting in this cupola for just such emergencies. I knew there were Black Hands and dangerous spies in the city, but I never dreamed they would dare to make off with our Washington! All of the loyal and patriotic American citizens of this city agreed with me, that New York needed the eagle here to keep trouble away, but who could tell to what lengths these bad men would go?—even so far as to kidnap our great and true Washington. Now that we have saved the city from the grasp of the enemy, who would have destroyed it utterly, I wish you would make a speech to the crowds waiting below in the park."
George consented, and as he stood on the edge of the cupola, holding the mayor's hand on one side, and leaning gracefully on the American eagle as it stood beside him on the other side, the throngs of people cheered and cheered for the great general who blew up the British army on Long Island.
Just as George cleared his throat to address his countrymen something terrible happened, and George found himself rolling on the floor of the hotel parlor, where he had fallen from the couch.
He sat up and rubbed his eyes and stared around to see if the patriotic mayor was safe and sound, and what had become of the American eagle, when the elders came into the room, laughing and talking.
"Why, George! You out of bed?" cried Mrs. Parke.
"Bed! Why, I haven't had a second's time to think of bed! Ever since those two masked rascals, who were enemies of the mayor, grabbed me, I've been in so much trouble that the American eagle had to save me!" exclaimed George, getting up from the floor and limping over to replace the Woolworth souvenir on the table.
"Whatareyou all laughing at, anyway?" cried George testily, as he limped into his room, wishing he had had time to speak that fine speech he had ready.
The next morning the ladies and children left New York for Philadelphia, the home of the Davises. On the journey there Mrs. Parke was begged for a story of the time when Washington fought so hard to protect the city they were bound for.
"After leaving Brunswick, New Jersey, when Cornwallis appeared there, Washington retreated, leaving twelve hundred men to protect Princeton, and, with the rest of the army, proceeded to Trenton, on the Delaware. He collected and guarded all the boats on the river for seventy miles either side of Philadelphia, then sending the sick over to the latter city, he followed with baggage and equipment. Leaving the thousand men at Princeton to keep up the appearance of resistance to the English army, he was about to move his main army, when he heard that Cornwallis was planning to cut off his retreat across the Delaware. Hastily calling the men from Princeton, he began a quick retreat, and managed to get all his men across the river and hold the boats on the Philadelphia side, about the time the British army reached the river on the Jersey side.
"As no boats were to be had, the enemy could not cross, so the American army had a rest on the Pennsylvania side. It was during this retreat from New Jersey that Washington heard of the capture of Lee, at a tavern near Baskingridge, where he had been sleeping some distance from his men.
"When the British found they were cut off from pursuit of the American army, they fell to enjoying themselves in New Jersey, while waiting for the ice to freeze solid on the river to enable them to cross to Philadelphia.
"But the Hessians indulged in such open cruelty that many of the inhabitants changed from the proffered friendship to bitter enmity.
"On receiving news of the different cantonments and numbers of the British troops, Washington decided to make a bold effort to check their progress.
"He formed his men into three divisions, purposing to attack the Hessians, 1,500 strong, where they were posted at Trenton; but in trying to cross the Delaware, one division, under Cadwallader, failed because of the tides and the piled-up ice on the Jersey bank.
"The second division was to cross at Trenton Ferry, but this also failed on account of the ice. The third, under command of Washington himself, consisting of about 2,400 men, accomplished the passage with great difficulty.
"Had not the obstacles and weather prevented the other two divisions from joining Washington in this fight, the result of this masterly stroke would have been to sweep the British from their holds on the Delaware, and thus establish a firm foothold in New Jersey. As it was, Washington had to forbear a final battle, and remain satisfied with having won a partial victory. He re-crossed the river with his prisoners, six pieces of artillery, 1,000 stand of arms, and valuable military stores.
"This victory revived the spirits of the army, and every spark of patriotism in the land was burning brightly, when Washington again crossed the Delaware with 5,000 men to recover as much as possible of the territory overrun by the British.
"Cornwallis was on the point of sailing for England, thinking the campaign ended for the winter season, when he was compelled to resume command of his forces.
"Battle between the two armies raged all day, and at dark the British, confident of victory the following morning, desisted.
"During the night Washington silently decamped, leaving fire burning and sentinels advanced, while small parties guarded the forts. By circuitous route, the Americans approached Princeton, where an engagement with the British took place at daybreak.
"When the Americans drove headlong on, the British took refuge in the college, but later surrendered to the Americans.
"On the coming of daylight, Cornwallis discovered the flight of the American army, and soon afterward heard firing from the direction of Princeton. He immediately understood the wise tactics of the American commander, and fearing for the safety of Brunswick, where valuable magazines were collected, he advanced toward that place, and was close upon the rear of the American army before they could leave Princeton.
"Now Washington found himself in a perilous position. His men were exhausted from lack of food and rest for two days and nights; he was pursued by the enemy, very superior in forces, well clothed, fed and rested, who would overtake him before he could fulfil his plan to take Brunswick. Under these circumstances he abandoned the project, and took the road leading up the country to Pluckimin, breaking down the bridges over Millstone Creek and other streams, and otherwise creating obstacles to the pursuit of the enemy; but Cornwallis hastened to Brunswick, where he found all plans had been perfected for the removal of the stores and defence of the place.
"But now came the retribution for the British, who had afflicted the Jerseymen on previous trips and stays. The people hung upon the steps of the retiring army and wreaked vengeance on the men whenever opportunity offered itself.
"Washington fell back on Morristown, in the hills of New Jersey, difficult of access, and from this point, where his winter quarters were made, he overran different sections of Jersey, and by judicious movements, wrested from the British most of their conquests in the state. Thus terminated the eventful campaign of 1776.
"The success of Washington in the Jerseys permitted Congress to meet again in Philadelphia in February, where they determined to interest foreign countries in their fight for Liberty.
"Franklin and Lee were sent to Paris to enlist the help and sympathies of France, and thus it was that the valiant Marquis de Lafayette was destined to shed glory over the Land of Liberty. In the spring, he reached America and joined Washington's army, with the rank of major-general.
"Another illustrious name that braced the muster-roll of the American warriors that year, was that of the gallant Count Pulaski, the courageous Pole.
"In August, after many encounters with the British at other places, Washington moved his army. They marched through Philadelphia down Front Street, and up Chestnut Street, proceeding by way of Chester to Wilmington. From that time on, for two weeks, Washington thoroughly reconnoitered the country round about between Philadelphia and the Chesapeake.
"General Howe landed his British forces a few days' march from Philadelphia, where he expected to gain the right of the American army.
"After many engagements, the British army being very superior in numbers and equipment, Washington was gradually forced to retreat, and Howe took possession of Philadelphia."
Mrs. Parke suddenly concluded the story to the surprise of the audience, and George instantly said: "That isn't half of the story. You skipped a lot about the British before they could get in Philadelphia, and you never said a word about the headquarters at Brandywine, or the Battle of Brandywine!"
"Well, as you know it so well, why don't you tell it to us?" suggested Mrs. Parke.
"I don't want to. We'd rather hear you tell it," replied George anxiously.
"But I'm tired of telling it. Let Martha tell it."
"Oh, I only know about Chew's House and Red Bank and some other places in New Jersey that year," protested Martha.
"I know all about Valley Forge, and the dreadful time our army had that winter," remarked Jack.
"Well, I thought it was time to ring for some light refreshments, as we will be in Philadelphia in less than half an hour, and it will be past luncheon time when we arrive," hinted Mrs. Parke, who had other motives for not continuing the story of Philadelphia.
To this new arrangement the children immediately agreed, and the wars were forgotten in the far more interesting present campaign on luncheon.
The small tables were brought in and opened before the travellers, to the great delight of George and Martha, who had never lunched this way before, although Jack and Anne had spoken of it, when they travelled from Philadelphia to Washington.
"I think we will each have a cup of consommé," said Mrs. Parke, reading from the small menu card.
"That's plain soup!" scorned George.
"I don't want it—do you?" asked Martha, appealing to Anne and Jack.
"We'd rather have something nicer," replied they.
Mrs. Parke ignored these side murmurs and continued ordering.
"Then you can bring us some cold beef, bread and butter, cheese and crackers, and milk for the children. We ladies will have a cup of tea."
"Yas'sam!" replied the polite waiter, leaving the car.
"But what are we going to eat? You never give us cheese at home!" cried Martha in dismay.
"You can have the consommé, crackers and milk. If you care to have a bit of cold beef, you may," replied Mrs. Parke.
"But you didn't order any pie, or cake, or ice cream!" remonstrated George, almost speechless with surprise.
"No, because they only have a buffet lunch, I find. They haven't any hot dishes, or desserts other than the kind ready-made by companies. As you know, I never care to have you eat pies or ice cream made in factories."
That luncheon, so eagerly looked forward to when suggested, was a dreadful failure! Only soup and plain crackers and milk that one could get at home any time for the asking!
Arriving in Philadelphia, Mrs. Davis remarked as she noted the disappointed look of the children:
"I know where there is a fine soda-fountain near here, and they serve the best ice cream!" said she.
"Oh, let's!" sighed Martha.
And Mrs. Parke, knowing opposition to be futile, followed after the eager group as they hurried to the corner drug store.
A taxicab soon took them to the Davises' house, where the children were engaged all afternoon, in visiting the entire house and trying out the toys in the playroom.
As the two ladies sat in the upstairs sitting-room, Mrs. Davis said: "Do tell me what caused you to suddenly change your mind about including the story of Washington's campaign in and about Philadelphia?"
"Why, I remembered that, with a story so fresh in their minds, they might try to play it out on the Philadelphians. If you or I should happen to go shopping, or be invited out to tea, we might return to find Washington's army charging on Chestnut Street, or retreating to the police-station!" Mrs. Parke laughingly answered her.
"It will not need refreshed memories to bring about such battles. They are apt to open an active campaign without notice, at any time or place," laughed Mrs. Davis.
"Still, I think it wiser to save Philadelphia's war troubles until we are safe back home on the estate," said Mrs. Parke.
Soon after this conversation, the ladies heard laughter and the patter of feet upstairs in the large playroom, and felt sure the four cousins were playing as other children did, with dolls and trains of cars, and rocking-horses and other numerous toys.
But the uproar grew so loud that finally the two mothers went up to see what was going on.
As usual, George was commander-in-chief of the army and Jack was Howe. Martha was Lafayette and Anne was Cornwallis. The dolls, tin soldiers, stuffed animals, and everything in the imitation of any living thing were arrayed in two lines, facing each other. George was furiously riding a rocking-horse, while waving a tin sword wildly about his head. Howe stood on the window-seat issuing orders to his side. Lafayette and Cornwallis stood back of their lines, shooting peas at the helpless armies. For every tin soldier or saw-dust doll shot down, a great whoop of cheer came from the victorious side. When two victims, one on each side, fell at the same time, the yells were deafening.
So enthused were the warriors that they failed to note the door opening a wee bit, so the ladies withdrew again, happy to find the children playing quietly (?) in the house.
"Children, have you planned to do anything this morning?" asked Mrs. Davis, at breakfast the following morning after their arrival.
"What did you expect to do?" countered George.
"Oh, nothing much, but it looks so much like rain, and the Scotch mist is so heavy and cold, I thought you children could play upstairs this morning while aunty and I do some shopping downtown. We will be home for lunch and take you to a matinee if you will be good," promised Mrs. Davis.
"Cross your heart?" demanded Jack, for matinees were rare treats, as Mrs. Davis thought children were better off at wholesome play in the fresh air, than sitting in a crowded theatre watching make-believe scenes on the stage.
"Yes, I'll take you to Barnum's Circus, showing this week in Philadelphia."
"Oh, goody! goody! We'll be good, all right!" cried George.
"Indeed we will. If it clears off some we might play basket-ball out in the backyard, that's all," promised Anne.
So the ladies started downtown with assurances that the four cousins would be models of virtue and good behavior until noon when they would look for their reward.
Soon after they left, the mist lifted and the air grew warmer and pleasant.
"It's kind of stuffy in the house, isn't it?" said Jack, after a heated bout with George, where both wore boxing gloves, and the girls were umpires.
"Yes, let's go out and cool off," agreed George, mopping his face.
"We can play out in the backyard, you know," suggested Anne.
"I'm so warm I don't want to play ball, but let's go out anyway," said George.
So the four ran downstairs and out of the rear hall-door to the piazza that had steps leading down to the square of grass that was used for drying clothes. Back of this plot was a small garden that was cultivated in the summer, but was now chiefly used for a basket-ball ground.
The wash was out, so the grass-plot was impossible for the children, and they skirted the laundry and reached the barren garden.
"What's on the other side of your high fence?" asked George, eyeing the six-foot boards that had nice cross-pieces at convenient distance from the ground to the top.
"Nothing, only a big vacant lot. Father says the owners have had trouble over the title to it for so many years, that now they couldn't improve it even if they had the money left to do it on," said Jack.
"And every kind of youngster from down in those tenements comes up in that lot to play," added Anne, with disgust.
Voices were now heard on the other side of the fence and George looked at his companions.
"Guess I'll climb up and sit on top and watch 'em."
"So'll I! That won't do any harm, I guess," said Jack.
Anne and Martha watched their brothers climb up, and then following, they all sat on the smooth round top of the fence.
Some boys from the tenements were about to have a game of baseball. At first, they failed to see the four spectators sitting on the fence. When they did, however, their remarks were not flattering.
"Ha! See the sports up on the bleachers!" cried one.
"Come down and we'll show you how we bat!" called another, and at this his friends all jeered.
Jack wrinkled his nose and stuck his tongue in his cheek, making a wry face at the last speaker.
That led to more remarks from the diamond, and more faces from all four perched on the fence; finally, at a taunting sneer from one of the team on the diamond, Jack replied angrily.
Over at one side of this large vacant area was a depression that generally held muddy water from past rain storms. It seldom filtered into the earth, and the sun not reaching that side of the property, failed to dry it up. Hence, the younger children from the tenements played in this large puddle, sailing boats, or throwing stones to watch the splash.
As Jack retorted, one of the boys standing near the puddle, stooped and flung a handful of dripping mud at the fence. It struck low, but George instantly shouted:
"Don't you do that again! It's against the law to throw things in city limits!"
"Ha! Lot you know about law! Why, sissy, we're a law by ourselves!" laughed one of the boys, going over to pick up a handful of the ooze.
The rest of the gang instantly followed their leader, and before the four on the fence could imagine what would follow, the air was filled with flying mud-balls. Some struck the fence, some flew over and spattered the clean white clothes, and some struck the four defiant citizens on the fence, although they ducked and dodged many of the missiles.
"Shall we jump down and let them laugh at us?" asked Jack.
"Don't you dare! Even if you do I won't!" cried Anne, too furious to wonder what might be the result of this fracas.
"I should saydouble no! For a dare, I'd jump over and fight them!" declared George.
"Wish we had our air-rifles!" said Jack.
"Are they fighters? Do they play fair?" asked George.
"Fight! Like tigers, but they don't know what fairness means. The whole mob'd just as soon light on you if you went over as they would throw these mud-balls," sneered Jack.
"Let's all four attack them!" ventured Martha, who was as daring as George.
"There are six of them—besides the mob that will run the minute they sniff a fight!" warned Jack.
"I've got it! Let's jump down, run alongside the house by the areaway, and get out on the street. We can run around the corner and get to the empty lot from the street, then they will be taken by surprise and can't run away," suggested Anne.
"I wish to goodness we had two other friends," sighed Jack, as the four dropped from the fence to the wild jeering of the six boys on the other side.
"Oh, Jack! Maybe Bob and Dick are home by this time. You know, when we went away, they were expected back from the country that Saturday," said Anne significantly.
As the children ran across the garden they beheld with dismay that the lovely white clothes on the lines were now all bespattered with mud. This made them determined to mete out judgment.
"Coo-ooh! Bo-ob!" shouted Jack, as he stood under the neighboring dining-room window.
"Come ahead out, Dick!" yelled Anne, making a megaphone of her hands.
Two heads appeared at the side window almost immediately.
"When did you get home?" called Bob, raising the sash.
"Never mind that! Hurry out—Dick and you! Big fight on," said Jack hurriedly, running to the street.
Bob and Dick needed no further incentives, but were soon with the other four children on the sidewalk.
"Where?" was all they said.
"Empty lot back of our house. Those boys dirtied all of Bridget's clean clothes and pelted us with mud too, besides insulting and doing lots of things to us!" said Jack, while the six comrades, friends on the spot without introductions to the two southern cousins, ran around the corner of the street.
When they reached the vacant lot, however, they hid back of the stone steps belonging to the adjoining house, and peeped about the corner to see what chances they had for a victory.
To their delight they found that the two larger boys had been called away for some reason, and only four boys of their own size were left playing ball in a half-hearted way.
"Agh! dem sissies ain't fighters! I t'ought sure dey would come ober de fence and pitch in!" said one of the ball-players to his companions.
"Yeh! So'd I. Ef Bill and Huck stayed here, we coul' have chased 'em over into their own yard and licked 'em!" said another.
At this information, George exchanged glances with Jack.
"Shall we warn them, or just fall in?" asked he.
"Did Washington send a polite letter to Howe or any of the British, when he started a fight?" was all Jack replied.
"Here you, Bob—you tackle that red-headed fellow. Dick—you take care of the fat one. Jack can fight the thin one and I'll take charge of that freckled scrawny one—I can fight better than any of you, I guess!" planned George hurriedly.
"Here! here, what about us two girls! Can't we help?" cried Martha, with deep grief at the turn events appeared to be taking.
"Sure! You watch and warn us, and if the other two fellows come back, you blow this whistle for help!" advised Jack, handing his newly-acquired police-whistle to Anne.
Before the four ball players could well understand who was rushing, or what the four boys were about, each one of the Washington forces had picked his man and was already busy on the offensive.
In a few moments, the ball players, termed by George the low-down Hessians, recognized the two boys from the fence-top and with a yell of fury, pitched in to fight with all their strength.
George bawled out orders for his companions to follow, and at every fresh attack upon the Hessians, the four Americans whooped and fell to with renewed lust of battle.
Martha and Anne were deeply interested in hoping and watching for the Hessians—those cruel heartless fellows, who had injured and destroyed the lives and properties of the American citizens at Brunswick, Princeton, and other Jersey towns. It served them good and right to have Washington's men flay the breath out of them.
But the Hessians were almost spent and ready to give up when Cornwallis, in the form of two pals from the tenements, came along and seeing the battle, added reinforcements to their almost vanquished army.
Now Washington was desperate. He and his men were out-numbered by the arrival of the new forces, who were fresh and somewhat larger than the rest of the Hessians, and this meant watchful and wary war.
But they had not counted on Anne and Martha. The moment the two reinforcements from the Hessians arrived, Martha cried:
"Come on, Anne! Let's throw mud at them!"
Mud-balls flew thick and fast for a time, and every one—Americans as well as Hessians—was blinded, choked, or spattered before Anne remembered the whistle! Neither Jack nor she knew what would happen if it were used. They had heard, however, that in times of dire need help would come upon the blowing of a whistle.
The whistle did bring help. But Anne wished she had not used it when she saw a strange officer run across the street, and rush into the mob of boys where nothing but flying fists could be seen. The Hessians were accustomed to being routed by the police, and instantly took to their heels, leaving the battle-field to the American forces.
The officer thought the four remaining boys were also from the tenement district, as their clothes were torn and spattered with mud. He mustered them in a group, and was about to march them off to the station-house, when the fat laundress from the Davises' house mounted a ladder she had placed against the fence, determined to investigate the cause of the mud which she had found all over her clean laundry.
The policeman was a friend of Bridget's, and she berated the "durty varmints," who ruined her week's washing. She shook two great fists at the four boys, but not until the two girls had explained, would they believe that the boys had been erstwhile clean, decent citizens fighting under Washington's command.
So the battle with the Hessians ended, and the American troops had to retreat to their "fastnesses in the Jersey Hills."
As the six warriors and the policeman walked up the street where the houses of the children stood, a taxicab pulled up alongside the curb and stopped before the Davises' house. Two ladies alighted, and one of them paid the chauffeur. As they turned to go up the steps of the house, the vanquished army met them.
"Well, mother, that was a great battle, and I'm sure those Hessians will know better than to attack defenceless people again," bragged George, trying to see from a swollen eye.
"Not defenceless—but 'on-the-fence' Americans," corrected Jack, tittering.
"Oh, oh! Are these our children?" wailed Mrs. Davis, backing away from the muddy, tattered group.
"They says they are—and Miss Bridget—she oughter know when she sees 'em. She says dey are belongin' here, all right!" said the officer, grinning at their plight.
"Where did you find them, officer?" asked Mrs. Davis.
"Yander, on the nex' block! They were fighting with a lot of ruffians," said the officer, lifting his hat and preparing to leave.
"Oh, thank you so much for taking care of them! And do buy some candy for your children at home, officer!" said Mrs. Davis, handing the man a dollar.
The children then proudly related the "Battle of the Hessians." The mothers, however, were not impressed, and soundly reproved them for their failure to keep the promise of good behavior.
As they left the dining-room after lunch, Mrs. Parke remarked: "We secured tickets for the circus, but I don't see why we should take you performers when you manage to have all the circus you want without troubling us."
"What do you suppose we hurried and bathed and combed our hair and dressed up for, if not for the circus this afternoon?" complained Jack, thinking of all the wasted moments used to make his neck clean, and to brush down his unruly cow-licks.
"Surely you didn't expect to come into this dining-room covered with mud and rags, did you?" cried Mrs. Davis, aghast.
"Not exactly, but we didn't have towasteso much soap and hot water, if we thought you were going to turn traitor. I'm not surprised Washington had such a hard time in that war, when even his own relations went back on him—after he fought for the honor of his people the way he did!" grumbled George.
"I'd just as soon be born a descendant of Howe as to have folks misunderstand your Americanism!" added Jack.
But this was too much for the mothers, who were Daughters of the Revolution, and although the connection between Washington at Princeton fighting the Hessians seemed to have nothing in common with the boys of the tenement alleys, they felt the spirit of patriotism that had moved their army to enter the defence of the place.
So, in spite of the dire need of punishment for four fighting Americans, they were treated to the circus instead. And the event of the battle in the morning was quite erased from their minds when they came forth from that wonderful place, having feasted their eyes on animals, tricks, clowns too funny to describe, trapeze actors, acrobats, and too many things to remember all at once.
Letters came from New York, stating that Mr. Parke and Mr. Davis would be in Philadelphia the following day, so if the children had not yet visited various sights of historic interest, they would escort them about and give the ladies a rest.
"Now, I'll tell you, mother! It is my birthday, you see, the day after to-morrow, and you promised me a party this year. While father and uncle take us about, you and Aunt Kate can fix up a fine party at home. Ask every one you know and let's play Hallowe'en games, even if it is too soon," said Jack coaxingly.
"It would be nice to have that party while your cousins are here," admitted Mrs. Davis.
"Oh, aunty, you don't know what a good worker mother is when there's a party to be made ready!" exclaimed Martha eagerly.
"That settles it! Aunty must work for the party," laughed Mrs. Davis.
"We'll all work for it. You just tell us what to do, and see if we can't hustle!" bragged Jack.
"I suppose you will be glad to crack walnuts and shell them for cake, eh?" teased Mrs. Parke, who knew of her children's failing in that line of work.
"Try me!" laughed Jack.
So it was hastily decided to celebrate Jack's birthday with a sort of Hallowe'en party, although it was only the middle of October. And every one went to work on the plan for the celebration.
About a dozen invitations were sent out, which, with the four cousins, would make sixteen guests for the party; this was said to be quite enough for a jolly time. Then cakes, prizes and other things had to be prepared, and in the midst of the pleasant excitement the two fathers arrived.
"Seen all of Philadelphia, I suppose," said Mr. Parke later in the evening.
"Nothing but the battle-field between the Hessians and Washingtons," said George.
"Now, what does that mean?" asked Mr. Davis.
So the boys told about the fight, in terms to suit their patriotic sense of the affair, so that it did not appear to the men as having been just an ordinary brawl between two hostile factions, but that is what both the ladies persisted in calling it.
The next day the two men escorted the four children as promised, Mr. Davis using the automobile for the trip. They visited the old state house, Girard College, the Custom House and Subtreasury, and the new city hall, which had cost more than $20,000,000, and is one of the finest and largest of municipal buildings in the United States. The statue of William Penn crowns the top of its dome. Then, too, they saw the post office, built of granite, which, they were told, has no superior in postal buildings in the country.
In the state house the four little patriots saw a large apartment on the first floor which the men said was Independence Hall. It was decorated with quaint carvings, and pictures of famous Americans adorned its walls. Many of the chairs used by the members of Congress in 1776 still stood here to remind the children of that great event—the reading and signing of the Declaration of Independence, executed in this city.
"Now, children, let us go and see the famous Liberty Bell. After that we will visit the rooms where Colonial relics are kept on exhibition," said Mr. Davis.
The children looked well at the token of what the great Revolution stood for, and having read the inscription and felt sorry for the crack in its side, they followed Mr. Parke to other sights.
They drove to Carpenters Hall, the building where the first Colonial Congress met, the board that abetted Washington in his endeavors for his country. Then they saw the William Penn dwelling, moved to Fairmount Park. They visited Christ Church, where Washington worshipped when president. Also Old Swedes Church, which was a memento of the old days.
Then, among the modern places of interest, they took the children to Masonic Temple, because Mr. Davis was a Free Mason, and was very proud of the granite structure. Then they drove past the Academy of Fine Arts, containing the pioneer art collection of the United States, as the children did not particularly care to go in and examine the objects.
They stopped for a short time in the Academy of Natural Sciences, where the oldest and most extensive collection of natural history objects can be found.
From there they passed the Ridgway Library, the United States Naval Asylum, and many other great and well-known buildings. In Fairmount Park they visited the Memorial and Horticultural halls, both being handsome souvenir buildings from the Centennial Exhibition of 1876.
"Of course you two Southerners know who first settled our fine city?" asked Mr. Davis, as they came from the museum and climbed into the automobile again.
"Why, I think Benjamin Franklin did, didn't he, Jack?" said George, taken unawares.
"No; William Penn did. He located and planned the city, and also made it the chief city of his province of Pennsylvania. He also settled the first order of 'Friends' in this country, and because the name 'Philadelphia' means 'brotherly love,' he called it that. In 1701 Penn granted the town a charter, which constituted it a city with city privileges.
"Benjamin Franklin, who lived in Philadelphia during the greater part of the eighteenth century, planned many of its institutions, such as the fire department, libraries, parks, and other public places. As Congress first met here, and continued to do so after the British evacuation, Philadelphia became the seat of government from the year 1790 to 1800. The United States mint was built and established here in 1892."
On the homeward drive the children passed the oldest public library in the United States, founded by Benjamin Franklin, containing about 175,000 volumes.
"To-morrow, if you like, we will drive you out to the suburbs of Germantown, Manayunk, and Frankford, thence on to the places where you have heard of the battles Washington fought with the British," promised Mr. Davis, as they reached the house and wearily climbed the front steps.
But the party engaged so much attention that the trip to historic spots was almost forgotten in the flood of events which followed.
Every one invited came, of course, and besides Bob and Dick, the boys next door, there were other girls and boys of Jack's age. As it was said to be a premature Hallowe'en party, because the two cousins would soon be going home again, no one brought a birthday gift, as most of the guests had forgotten entirely that it was the date of Jack's birthday.
But he had received a gift from uncle Parke that morning that fully recompensed him for the lack of any others. He found the small box at his breakfast plate held something that made a significant noise, as it regularly ticked away inside the paper wrapper and satin-cushioned case.
"Oh! I know what this is—right off without opening it!" cried Jack, jumping up to run and throw his arms about his uncle.
Anne did not wait for him to finish his violent protestations of affection, but broke the string and tore away the paper. By this time Jack was back at his chair to rescue the gift, and upon opening the spring lid, a boy's fine watch was displayed to his delighted eyes.
It was then passed around and admired by every one, George handling it longingly, while Mr. Parke shook his head in a knowing manner.
Jack had other gifts, but the watch was the most treasured of all. What boy or girl does not worship his first watch, and find it necessary to consult the time every few minutes during the first days it is carried?
That night the watch was much in evidence, and every one present had to hear it tick or handle it before full justice could be done to it.
When the guests were assembled, they played different games, and for the diving contests, blindfolded games, and other guessing amusements, suitable prizes had been provided, which added greatly to the evening's enjoyment. Then, just as the two men went out to the dining-room to light the pumpkin jack-o-lantern and put the finishing touches to the witches' cave, where Mrs. Parke sat, dressed like an old gray-haired sibyl, a fearful rattling sounded on the front windows.
"Some one's playing tick-tack!" cried Jack excitedly.
"But who can it be?—all the boys are here to-night!" said Dick. Bob and George hurried to open the front door to run out on the piazza and see if they could find the string that is used to fasten a nail or other metal object so it will strike the glass when drawn sharply by some one hiding across the street. But no sooner had they passed the threshold than a large bag of flour descended upon their innocent heads, breaking open and covering them with white, and causing them to choke and cough furiously.
The other children had followed to the hall, and now seeing what had happened to the two scouts, they stood together, not daring to move nearer the door. Jack and Dick, believing the flour-bag trick to be one of Mr. Davis's practical jokes, rushed out to capture him, but both boys tripped over a string stretched across the steps and rolled down the four steps going to the street. At the same time, dreadful cabbages, tomatoes, and every other form of vegetable used for saluting unwelcome stage performers, were showered plentifully into the hallway and against the windows.
"The Hessians! The Hessians!" yelled George, spluttering flour from his mouth to give the battle-cry of the Washingtons.
In another moment the American army was running in full pursuit of the enemy. The six boys who had not known of the party, but took this evening to show their attentions to the "American army," were out-numbered and quickly outdistanced. When Jack and George, and their two boy neighbors, caught up with the rear guard of the Hessians, they fell upon them with great gusto. The other six boys soon came up, and had not the old friendly officer hurried up to see what all the hullabaloo was about, the chances are the Hessians would have been entirely destroyed and Howe would have lost a signal battle. Even as it was, the six Hessians were carried from the field of battle with sore heads, black eyes, skinned shins and lame backs.
"My! Nothing like a little fight to give one an appetite, eh?" laughed Jack, as he and his friends went back to the party.
The boys were not much the worse for the scuffle; their hair was tousled, collars loosened, and ties hanging, but that was about all the damage done them. The witch in the cave, and the two gentlemen who offered to serve refreshments, had not heard a thing of the assault until Martha ran into the dining-room with the news.
"We licked the Hessians! They got it this time!"
Without a second's hesitation (so certain were these parents of their children's tendencies), the fathers and Mrs. Parke rushed out to the hall to meet the victorious warriors returning from the scene of battle.
Although parents may try to dampen the ardor of youth from such warlike fun as battles and assaults on an enemy, still it was in the blood of these little Washingtons, and would crop up when chance offered as naturally as General Washington rode his white charger on to victory.
The supper was greatly enjoyed, not only for the great plates of cake and deep cereal-bowls of ice cream that were passed and passed in endless procession, but for the realization also that one great battle had been won over the Hessians without as much as bloodshed on the side of the Americans.
A few days after this party, the Davises accompanied their relatives to the station, where the Parkes boarded a train bound for Washington. A few hours later they reached that fine city, and took a trolley about to leave for the nearest road that passed their country estate.
Late that same afternoon, as the travellers walked up the driveway, they spied Jim and old mammy waiting with the baby on the front veranda, to welcome them.
"Oh, George! I almost forgot we had a baby at home during all the wonderful travels and sights we have had since leaving home almost ten days ago!" sighed Martha, with compunction.
"And just see how funny Jim looks! Why, he isn't half as big as I thought he was. Jim, maybe we haven't a lot to tell you! Oh, Jim,what a fightwe gave those Hessians when we drove them from Philadelphia!" cried George, as he went running up the pathway.
But Mrs. Parke had not forgotten she had a baby at home, as old mammy could testify, for long letters had reached her daily, advising and reminding her what to do for baby while she was away on this unusual visit.
That dinner was a happy reunion; not only for mother and baby, but also for the faithful colored help. And what do you suppose Jim did?
George and Martha were so eager to explain all about the historic sights and places they had visited, that they could not wait for the next morning, so Jim was invited to sit at the table when fruit and nuts were served, and there he rolled his widened eyes dangerously backward when he heard about the battle with the Hessians.