"Oh, the poor, poor things!" exclaimed Ethel, tears starting to her eyes. "Did they ever try to run away or to steal something from the farmers to eat, when they were so dreadfully hungry?"

"Yes, they sometimes did steal sheep, hogs, and poultry; but since they were starving and their just wages kept back from them, one can hardly feel like blaming them very severely for taking a little food from those whom they were defending.

"There was only one decided mutiny; that was on the 1st of January, 1781, by about two thousand men of the Pennsylvania troops, stationed at Morristown and under the command of General Wayne.

"They had made their preparations secretly, appointing a sergeant major their commander, calling him major-general. At a preconcerted signal all, excepting a part of three regiments, paraded under arms without officers, marched to the magazines and supplied themselves with ammunition and provisions; then they seized six fieldpieces and took horses from General Wayne's stables to draw them."

"And n.o.body tried to stop them?" exclaimed Ethel enquiringly.

"Yes; hearing what was going on their officers tried to do so, calling on the men who did not join in the revolt to help. But the mutineers fired, killing a captain and wounding several others; then they ordered the men who had not revolted to come over to their side, threatening that if they did not they would kill them with their bayonets; and they went over. Then General Wayne tried his influence with the men, who all loved him, using both persuasion and threats to bring them back to their duty. But they refused to listen even to him, and when he c.o.c.ked his pistol at them they pointed their bayonets at his breast, saying, 'We respect and love you; you have often led us into the field of battle, but we are no longer under your command; we warn you to be on your guard, for if you fire your pistol or attempt to force us to obey your commands we will instantly put you to death.'

"Wayne then tried to persuade them, speaking to them of their love for their country. They answered by reminding him how shamefully Congress was treating them. He spoke of the pleasure and encouragement their conduct would give to the enemy. In reply to that they called his attention to their tattered garments and how thin they themselves were from starvation; they told him they dearly loved the cause of freedom and wanted to fight its battles, if only Congress would see to it that their sore need was relieved."

"I don't think that was asking too much, do you, Mrs. Weston?" asked Ethel.

"No, not at all."

"And did General Wayne give them what they asked and had a right to ask?"

"He could not do that, but he supplied them with provisions and then marched them to Princeton, where he heard their demands and referred them to the civil authority of Pennsylvania.

"In the mean time the British general, Sir Henry Clinton, heard the story of the revolt, and not understanding the spirit and motives of the troops, sent a British sergeant and a New Jersey Tory named Ogden, with a written offer to them that if they would lay down their arms and march to New York they should receive in hard cash the money owed them by the American Congress, be well clothed, and have free pardon for having fought against the King of England; and not be required to fight on his side and against their country, unless they chose to do so of their own accord."

Ethel looked intensely interested. "And did they do it?" she asked half breathlessly.

"No, indeed," replied Mrs. Weston; "they were not fighting for money, but for liberty, their homes, their wives and little ones; but the money Congress owed them, the food and clothes, were necessary even to keep them alive, so that they felt justified in using their weapons in redressing their grievances while still looking with horror upon the armed oppressors of their country, and feeling that they would rather die than prove traitors to her. 'See, comrades,' one of them said to the others, 'he takes us for traitors. Let us show him that America can furnish but one Arnold, and that America has no truer friends than ourselves.'

"The others approved his sentiments. They immediately seized Clinton's spies and papers and took them to General Wayne, stipulating that the men should not be executed till their own affairs with Congress were settled, and that if their complaints were not attended to the prisoners should be delivered up to them again when they demanded them."

"Did Congress do what they asked of them?" inquired Ethel.

"Yes; then the spies were executed, and the reward which it appears had been offered for their apprehension, would have been given to the men who had seized them, but the brave, patriotic fellows refused to accept it, poor as they were, saying that necessity had forced them to demand justice from Congress, but they wanted no reward for doing their duty to their bleeding country."

"I like them for that!" exclaimed Ethel, "and I don't think they were at all to blame for making that Congress pay them what they had earned by working and fighting so long and so hard."

"No, nor do I," returned Mrs. Weston, "and I am proud to own them as my countrymen."

"It is a very interesting story; thank you for telling it to me, Mrs.

Weston," said Ethel. "I'd like to know more about that good General Washington and that war. All the English people didn't want the Americans abused so, did they?"

"Oh, no, my dear! Some of them tried hard to have their wrongs redressed. Some day I will tell you more about it, but now I hear Mrs.

Coote calling you."

CHAPTER X.

Ethel had been greatly interested in Mrs. Weston's story of Washington and the Revolution. She was eager to hear more, and found both ladies of the Keith family kindly ready to gratify her whenever she was allowed to carry her needlework over there instead of doing it in the room in the parsonage appropriated to the use of herself, brother, and sisters. She was given very little time for recreation, so could not read much for herself on that or any other subject; perceiving which, Mrs. Weston often read to her, pausing now and then to explain anything the little girl did not seem to entirely comprehend, so helping the child to a great deal of information which at that time she could have gained in no other way.

Ethel was very grateful; and, loving, generous little soul that she was, wanted others to share her pleasure; so repeated to Harry and the little sisters all she thought they could understand of what she had learned from the ladies. Also, supposing that Mrs. Coote was well read on the subject, she ventured to ask some questions of her.

"I know nothing about those old times in this country, and what's more, I don't want to know; so let me hear no more about it," was the ungracious rejoinder, and Ethel dared not venture another word.

"You're no American," Mrs. Coote went on presently, "so why should you care about those old stories?"

"I--I believe I'm half American," Ethel returned hesitatingly. "I was born in Jamaica and so was my dear mamma."

"Eh! I didn't know that before. But Jamaica is only a tolerably large island, and though it's on this side the ocean it belongs to England.

And your father was born in old England, wasn't he?"

"Yes: and I like England, but Cousin George says as we've come to America to live for the rest of our lives, we're Americans now."

"Humph! So as you behave well I for one don't care whether you are Americans or English," returned. Mrs. Coote; and there the conversation dropped.

Whenever the weather was at all suitable the three younger children were sent out of doors to play, Ethel joining them when her task was done, and usually they were all invited into Mrs. Keith's yard or house.

But stormy days had to be spent shut up in their own small room, and poor little Ethel was almost at her wit's end to keep Harry and Nannette from making such a disturbance as would bring reproof and sometimes sore punishment upon them.

They had little or no love for Mrs. Coote, who never lavished any demonstrations of affection upon them, and from her husband they shrank as from a dangerous foe. Fortunately they rarely saw him except when summoned to a recitation of the verses of Scripture which they were compelled to learn for the express purpose of enabling him to show off to chance visitors as one who was successfully training up in the way they should go the young orphans committed to his fatherly care.

As their Uncle Albert had promised, they were remembered at Christmas time by the relatives in Philadelphia, a box being sent direct to Ethel, in Mr. Coote's care. Fortunately it reached the house one day in his absence, and Mrs. Coote put it privately away, never breathing a word to him of its arrival.

On Christmas morning, soon after breakfast, she opened it herself in presence of the children, first telling them whence it had come and cautioning them to be perfectly quiet, or they might lose some of the contents.

There were fruits, cakes, candies, and toys; all in such plentiful supply that the children were almost wild with delight.

All four urged Mrs. Coote to share with them. She looked pleased that they should wish it, accepted a very little, then saying, "If you like you can, after a bit, carry some over to your friends at Mr. Keith's; and, Ethel, to-morrow you may write a little letter of thanks to your uncles and the rest in Philadelphia, and I will mail it for you," she left them to the enjoyment of their gifts.

If anything could have added to their felicity it was the note from Mrs.

Keith, presently brought in by her servant girl, inviting all four to take their Christmas dinner with little Mary, and to come as early as possible with Mrs. Coote's consent.

"Oh, Mrs. Coote, can't we go this minute?" asked Blanche and Harry in a breath, while Nannette piped, "Me wants to go, dus now; dis minute," and Ethel's soft brown eyes made the same request.

"Yes, yes; I'll be only too glad to be rid of your noise and chatter for the rest of the day," was the rather ungracious reply. "But you've all got to be dressed in your best first," she added, going to the closet and taking down the dresses the little girls were wont to call their "Sunday frocks," in which she presently proceeded to array them.

That did not take long, and they were soon at the door of Mr. Keith's hospitable dwelling, exchanging a merry Christmas with the ladies and little Mary, displaying the toys sent by their relatives in Philadelphia, and offering a share of their sweets from the same source.

Then they were led into the parlor where was a beautiful Christmas tree loaded with ornaments and gifts.

"Oh," cried Ethel, tears starting to her eyes as she spoke, "how it reminds me of Christmas times when our dear papa and mamma were with us!"

"Yes, I remember the one we had last Christmas," said Blanche; "and I think this one is just as pretty as it was."

"So do I," said Harry. "Oh, thank you, ma'am!" as Mrs. Keith took down a bag of marbles and another of candy and handed them to him.

"And this is for dear little Nannette," she said, disengaging a doll from the tree and putting it into the hands of the baby girl, who received it in almost speechless delight.