_Annie_. It is no such thing. Aunt Rachael. The British are quietly
encamped on the other side of the river; three miles off at least.
_Miss R_. I thought as much. A pretty hour for us to be turned out of
house and home to be sure. Not a wink have I slept this blessed night.
Hark! What o'clock is that? George, George! where is that boy? Just run
and tell your mother, Annie, just tell her, my dear, will you, that we
shall all be murdered. Maybe she will make haste a little. Well, are
they in?
_Ser't_. The pictures? They are in,--yes'm. But Miss Kitty's a crying,
and says as how she won't go, and there's the other one too; because,
Ma'am, their toes--you see there's the trunk in front gives 'em a leetle
slope inward, and then that chest under the seat--If you would just step
down and see yourself, Ma'am.
_Miss R_. I desire to be patient.
[_They go out_.
(_Annie sits on the bench of the little Porch, weeping.
Mrs. Gray enters from within_.)
_Annie_. Shall I never walk down that shady path again? Shall I enter
those dear rooms no more? There are voices there they cannot hear.
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