In this story an old-fashioned “courting-stick” in the hands of a
quick-witted girl is the means of saving patriot lives and ammunition.
The time was the year of Lexington and Concord, and the place, a little
village not many miles away. Already men’s faces were stern and women’s
eyes dim with sorrow; only the little children played on and knew no
difference.
Dolly Pearson scorned the name of child, yet the thought of war brought
to her only a sense of exhilaration. She had no father or brother to
lose; but neither had Elizabeth who had not smiled these three months.
Why? John Thurlow had said no word of enlisting. A shame it was,
too--thought Dolly--and he a strong man with naught to bind him!
“Betty,” said Dolly, who was helping her sister to tidy the best room,
“why does not John enlist? There, ’tis said now--I just had to! I’ve
been waiting and waiting because I feared to hurt you by the question!”
Elizabeth turned her quiet face to the saucy one, and smiled a little
sadly down at the girl. “John will go soon,” she said. “He is but
tarrying till the time be ripe.”
“Well, right glad am I to know it!” cried Dolly. “I always liked
John Thurlow, but had he been a coward----” She stopped, amazed at
Elizabeth’s look.
“Never name coward and John Thurlow in the same breath again!” she
said, vehemently, with wrathful face.
Dolly ran over to her sister repentantly. “Betty, I meant nothing. I
could not understand his tarrying, that was all. It is because he is
going that you have looked so sober lately.”
“Yes,” said Elizabeth, burying her face in her blue apron. Dolly
stared. She never cried herself, and never had she seen her sister cry,
save when their father died. Something of the solemn feeling she had
then had now silenced her, and she stood smoothing Elizabeth’s hand
until the girl looked up.
“There, Dolly, get to work,” she said, “and be glad you are not old
enough to understand.”
Dolly went pouting to her work--at fourteen she didn’t like being
thought young! Presently something diverted her thoughts. It was a
hollow rod, eight feet long and an inch in diameter, with a queer
mouth and ear-piece at each end--an old-time courting-stick that had
belonged to her grandmother. Dolly held it across to Elizabeth, her
face dimpling with mischief.
“Try it, Betty!” she pleaded. “I want to see if it sounds as well as
ever.”
Elizabeth held it to her ear, while Dolly’s saucy lips touched the
other end. “Betty,” she whispered, “are you not glad that you and John
don’t have to use this stick?” Elizabeth dropped it impatiently.
“You heard,” Dolly said innocently. “That was what I desired to know.
But you might have said something to me!”
When Elizabeth’s color came and went, as now, there was no girl
like her in the village. Indeed, at all times she was prettiest,
thought loyal Dolly, studying her next day, as they all walked to
meeting--Elizabeth in a sprigged muslin and a bonnet with rose-colored
ribbons. How beautiful she looked as she went to the singers’ seats!
John Thurlow sat there, too.
By turning a little in the pew, Dolly could see the singers’ seats, and
half the congregation as well. So of course she saw Eunice Winter come
in, and with her a strange young man, who soon perceived the pretty
face under the rose-colored ribbons, and glanced at it frequently.
Sometimes Dolly changed her position and studied the queer old pulpit,
with its winding stairs and the roofing overhead. There was a loft in
the roof, and squirrels and birds came in there. Suddenly Dolly gave a
start, and a look of delight shone in her eyes. After that she heard
not even the Parson’s “Finally,” and only came to herself when the
people rose to depart. Then she pulled her sister’s dress.
“Betty, do hasten!” she pleaded. “I have something to tell you.”
Elizabeth glanced down at the excited face.
“What is it, Dolly?” she asked, anxiety sharpening her quiet voice.
“Come,” urged Dolly, “away from the others! I _must_ tell you!”
Elizabeth followed her sister to a corner of the meeting-house yard,
where they were alone.
“What is it, Dolly?” Betty asked again, shaken out of her usual calm.
Dolly leaned forward. “Tell John Thurlow I know where his muskets are,”
she said, “and if they be not careful, others will know it, too!”
Elizabeth caught the girl’s hand tightly.
“How knew you that, Dolly?” she asked, a great fear choking her. Dolly
could be trusted, but many Royalists in the neighborhood were seeking
just this knowledge!
“Oh,” said Dolly, delighted at the importance of her discovery, “I saw
something gleaming through a crack in the roofing. I thought at first
’twas the sunlight, but presently I noted some dust in the pew. I put
my hand down and picked some up and tasted it, and although I be ‘so
young,’ I know powder. Why didn’t you tell me? I’d have died sooner
than betray it!” Her eyes were flashing through tears.
“I know it, little sister,” said Elizabeth. “I would trust you as soon
as myself. But do you not see it would be foolish to take more than
were necessary into the secret?”
“Ye-es,” admitted Dolly reluctantly, and then with the old mischievous
smile, she added: “Betty, was it necessary for you to know it?”
“You have a sadly undisciplined tongue, Dolly,” said Betty, coloring.
“But you do not fear to trust me,” said Dolly as they walked slowly
back across the yard. Then the undisciplined tongue reasserted itself.
“Did you note the fine gallant Eunice Winter had to-day?” she asked.
“I saw there was a stranger.”
“He scarce took his eyes from a bonnet with rose-colored ribbons. And
he is much finer-seeming than John Thurlow, Betty!”
“Now, Dolly, you’re going too far,” said Elizabeth sternly. “What would
mother say? It is downright wicked to have such thoughts in the house
of God.”
“Don’t get cross,” pleaded Dolly coaxingly. “I paid heed to the parson,
and I can tell you the text. And for the other matter, time will show
if I be wrong,” and with a saucy nod she broke away and joined her
mother.
Time did show. Whatever might be the fault of Mistress Dolly’s tongue,
her eyes were seldom mistaken. Before a week was over the strange
gentleman had met Elizabeth and he soon fell into the habit of calling
almost daily. His name was Henry Robbins, and he was Eunice Winter’s
cousin, visiting there for a month, he said.
All Dolly’s admiration for him vanished on the day she suspected he was
a Royalist. He had never avowed it, but the girl detected a look in his
eyes when she spoke of Lexington that brought her to her feet in great
excitement.
“I believe you’re a Royalist!” she exclaimed, with flashing eyes. “If
not, why are you tarrying here when the need is so sore? I think a man
who tarries unconcerned is a coward!”
“Dolly!” remonstrated Elizabeth.
“I do,” answered Dolly angrily. “And I hate cowards! You can excuse me
if you will, Betty, but I would say it all over again to the king’s
face!” and she ran out of the room.
The young man looked a little disturbed.
“I pray you overlook the child’s quick tongue,” Elizabeth said. “She is
an eager little rebel, and loses control of herself.”
“Oh, I am not troubled by a child’s idle talk,” he said. “I admire her
spirit. Yet I feel I scarce deserve the lash of her words.”
“I judge no man who follows his conscience. God will direct the right,”
said Elizabeth gently.
With that he had to be content. Yet as he walked down the road he
switched impatiently at the daisies beside it, and felt ill-satisfied
with the part he was playing. To live among these people solely to
discover their preparations for war revolted him, and he did so only at
the positive order of his general.
But as days went on, he began to despair. No slightest clue could he
get of the whereabouts of the stores he knew were being collected. Then
one day, as he was about to return to Boston, a scrap of paper was
slipped into his hand by a boy, who immediately scampered away. Captain
Robbins was standing with a group of men at the tavern waiting for the
mail-coach, and he carelessly untwisted and read the note:
Search the loft of the meeting-house. A servant of his majesty.
A quick glow came into the young man’s face. John Thurlow was standing
near and looked at him a little curiously. “Good news, judging from
your face,” said John.
“Aye, the best,” the Royalist said slowly. And never did John Thurlow
forget the curious tone and look of the Tory.
It was no difficult matter to examine the loft, which was found
nearly full of arms and powder. But Robbins did not choose to seize
the munitions; he hoped to convict Thurlow, at least, if none of the
others. He set spies on the church, meaning to capture any of the
king’s enemies who might attempt to take away arms.
Then another note came to him:
On Monday next there will be a midnight meeting in the loft. It might
interest the captain to attend.
It was Saturday afternoon then. One of the Royalists happened to be
passing the house; the captain called him, and the two young men swung
into step down the road to the meeting-house. Dolly Pearson stood
watching the two as they walked quickly away; then some suspicion came
to her from their gestures. She tried to dismiss it as foolish, but
tried in vain.
Suddenly she started off on a run across the fields. When she reached
the meeting-house her breath was coming in heavy gasps. The building
was open for one of its rare sweepings, but no one was in sight just
then. The girl ran in and up the winding stairs and crouched down
behind the pulpit, and lay there listening and trying to still the
noisy beating of her heart.
It seemed ages that she crouched there; perhaps she had been
mistaken--they might not have been coming here--then she started at the
sound of voices. She dared not peer out. She held herself rigid and
listened--listened for the life of John Thurlow whom Elizabeth loved.
“Forty muskets and seven kegs of powder,” said one voice.
“Aye, and Thurlow and his recruits to take all on Monday night?”
“Hist!” said the captain, looking round uneasily. “Walls have ears.
Monday at midnight you will have a strong band ready. We will surround
the meeting-house, and then----”
“Down with the rebels! And the pay, captain?”
“Trust His Majesty for that. You can have my own share, too. Success is
enough for me.”
“That and a fair field to Betty Pearson’s favor,” laughed the other.
“You are not the only one that would like to see John Thurlow out of
the way!”
“Then shall I earn their gratitude,” answered Robbins.
Dolly was trembling, and it did not seem as if she could control
herself much longer; but soon they went away. Then she had to rest long
in one of the pews to quiet her nerves.
“What ails you, Dolly?” her mother exclaimed, when she saw her. “You
look too ill to stand! You ought to go straight to bed while I brew
some herbs for you.”
“Oh, mother, I can’t go to bed,” said Dolly. “I must see John!”
“Would I were John!” said a mocking voice.
Dolly’s heart sank within her. She had not noticed the captain as she
entered. With an effort she summoned one of her saucy smiles.
“Good-even, Mr. Robbins--this is an unexpected pleasure! You have not
been here for so long--why, not since yesterday!”
“Come and entertain me, since I please you so much,” laughed the
captain.
“No,” said Dolly, “it would not be proper to show it. I prefer to talk
to Betty.”
“And I prefer you should talk to me,” said the captain, and there was
a note in his voice that startled Dolly. She imagined that she was
suspected. The color had come back to her face now, and her eyes were
blazing. Somehow--how, she had not the least idea--she must warn John
to-night. To-morrow would be too late, for the captain was on his guard.
She leaned back in a corner of the big settle, with a saucy laugh
answered his teasing, and gradually regained control of herself. Yet
all her will could not keep the color from flying to her face when she
heard John’s step. She bent down and played with the kitten at her feet.
“Miss Dolly was desiring your presence, Mr. Thurlow,” said the captain.
“Oh,” said Dolly carelessly, “never mind, John. That was an hour ago.”
Thurlow smiled good-humoredly at her, knowing her to be whimsical. She
sat wondering how she could get the message to him. Write it? Even
could she do so unobserved she would have no opportunity to give it to
him; of that she was certain. Equally sure was she that she would not
be allowed to leave the room alone.
Suddenly a thought came to her and filled her with glee. “Oh, Mr.
Robbins!” she cried. “Have you ever seen our courting-stick?”
“Courting-stick? What might that be?”
“I’ll show you,” she answered, starting up. “’Tis in the best room.”
“Nay, let me get it for you,” he said, rising.
“How can you, if you know it not when you see it?” she retorted. “But
you may come, too.” She felt a wicked delight in hearing the captain’s
muttered exclamations as he followed her into the dim best room,
stumbling over table and chairs on the way.
“Did you hurt yourself, Mr. Robbins?” she exclaimed, in a tone of
commiseration. “Trouble yourself no more; I have the rod. Here, John,”
she added, when they had returned, “take the other end while I show Mr.
Robbins how our grandfathers courted.”
John took the rod and Dolly put her lips to her own end. “John,” she
whispered, “betray no surprise for your life! Mr. Robbins knows about
the meeting-house loft, and is to lead a band of men to take you Monday
night. Pretend you cannot hear this well.”
John looked up in apparent perplexity. “The old rod is out of use,” he
said. “Speak louder, Dolly.”
The captain, with a suspicious look, pressed nearer.
“John,” she called, “are you sorry courting-sticks are out of fashion?”
“A chilly custom, truly,” said the captain. “Don’t you think, Miss
Dolly, it was rather hard on the happy pair?”
“Why, no,” said Dolly. “Take the other end, Mr. Robbins, and see the
convenience of it.”
The captain took John’s place, but he could not catch the faint whisper.
“I could not hear the words,” he said.
“Oh, I’ll try again,” said Dolly obligingly.
This time the captain turned away with an amused laugh. “Cool heart
that could carry on love-making at such a length,” he said. “It is a
rare curiosity, though. Shall I carry it back, Miss Dolly?”
“It needs not to be put away now,” Elizabeth said, and Dolly had to
give up the pleasure of making the captain stumble again in the dark.
As the clock struck nine John rose, and the captain with him. Dolly
laughed as away through the darkness strode the two men whose fortunes
had changed strangely since they trod the same road a couple of hours
before.
Three hours later a strange party in the meeting-house silently lowered
the powder casks and muskets and carried them to carts outside. When
morning broke the munitions were stored again five miles away. The men
were in their usual places when the Sabbath service began.
John gave one quick look at Dolly, and she was satisfied. He did not
go near her after the service, but one and another of the men came and
spoke to her. They said no word of why they spoke, but she knew, and
her heart swelled with pride as she counted the bravest of the place
among the number. They were true patriots, then! She never would doubt
them again, never!
The next night Captain Robbins met his men near the church. Nothing was
stirring. The captain began to look black.
One of the men entered through a window and flung the door open. They
strode into the empty room. The noise of their footsteps seemed to
echo and re-echo. All was solemnity of silence. In spite of themselves,
they were awed by the time and the place.
“At least,” said Captain Robbins hoarsely, “we will take the stores.”
He climbed eagerly to the loft ahead of the others. “Your light,
Wilson,” he called.
The man handed it up and Robbins held it high above his head. A few
startled swallows whirred around him and a mouse ran out of some straw
on the floor. But that was all.
There were two visitors at the Pearsons’ the next day. One was the
captain who called to say farewell. His holiday was up, he said, and
he must go back to Boston. Dolly watched him as he rode away. Once he
turned and waved to her. “Good-bye, my little enemy,” he called.
The next one was John Thurlow. He caught Dolly’s hands in his strong
grip and looked down at her so that she colored and tried to get away.
“Why, Dolly!” said Elizabeth, in surprise.
“Has she not told you?” asked John. “She is the bravest little maid I
ever saw. I know not, even now, how much her quick wit has saved.”
“No,” said Dolly, looking up, her mischief as usual conquering her
confusion. “I am naught but a little rebel firebrand--Mr. Robbins said
so. And Mr. Robbins knows everything except the use of courting-sticks!”
She broke away and ran quickly down the lane. The air was full of soft
summer noises, and the leaves and blossoms were stirring and flashing
and playing in the sunlight, and the day was golden--golden! She drew a
long breath of content. She was so happy to be alive and to have helped
a little.
“For I always shall be a rebel as long as I live,” she declared.