Never mind this young malapert--do as I bid you.
_Betty_. Lord 'a mercy, we shall all be murdered and scalped, every soul
of us. Bless you--there it is in the garret now!--just hold this
umberell a minute, Mr. George,--think of those murderous Indians wearing
my straw bonnet. Lord bless you! What are you doing? a heaving my
umberell over the fence, in that fashion!
_George_. These women will drive me mad I believe. Let that box alone,
you rascal. Lay a finger on that trumpery there I say, and you'll find
whose orders you are under; as for the Colonel and his lady, they'll get
a little drink out of the first puddle we come to, I reckon.
[_Goes out_.
_Miss R_. (_Coming from the house_.) That will do. That is all,--in the
green wagon, John----
_Ser't_. But the children----
_Miss R_. Don't stand there, prating to me at a time like this. Make
haste, make haste!
How perfectly calm I am! I would never have believed it;--just tie this
string for me, child, my hands twitch so strangely,--they say the
British are just down in the lane here, with five thousand Indians,
Annie.
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