Spinning-Wheel Stories

  TABBY'S TABLE CLOTH

  The storm kept on all night, and next morning the drifts were higher,the wind stronger, and the snow falling faster than ever. Through theday the children roved about the great house, amusing themselves as bestthey could; and, when evening came, they gathered around the fire again,eager for the promised story from grandmamma.

  "I've a little cold," said the old lady, "and am too hoarse for talking,my dears; but Aunt Elinor has looked up a parcel of old tales that I'vetold her at different times and which she has written down. You willlike to hear her reading better than my dull way of telling them, and Ican help Minnie and Lotty with their work, for I see they are bent onlearning to spin."

  The young folk were well pleased with grandma's proposal; for Aunt Nellwas a favorite with all, being lively and kind and fond of children, andthe only maiden aunt in the family. Now, she smilingly produced a fadedold portfolio, and, turning over a little pile of manuscripts, said inher pleasant way:--

  "Here are all sorts, picked up in my travels at home and abroad; and inorder to suit all of you, I have put the names on slips of paper intothis basket, and each can draw one in turn. Does that please mydistinguished audience?"

  "Yes, yes. Geoff's the oldest, let him draw first," cried the flock,fluttering like a flight of birds before they settle.

  "Girls come first," answered the boy, with a nod toward the eldest girlcousin.

  Lotty put in her hand and, after some fumbling, drew out a paper onwhich was written, "_Tabby's Table-cloth_." "Is that a good one?" sheasked, for Geoff looked disappointed.

  "More fighting, though a girl is still the heroine," answered Aunt Nell,searching for the manuscript.

  "I think two revolutions will be enough for you, General," addedgrandmamma, laughing.

  "Do we beat in both?" asked the boy, brightening up at once.

  "Yes."

  "All right, then. I vote for 'Dolly's Dish-cloth,' or whatever it is;though I don't see what it can possibly have to do with war," he added.

  "Ah, my dear, women have their part to play as well as men at suchtimes, and do it bravely, though one does not hear so much about theircourage. I've often wished some one would collect all that can be foundabout these neglected heroines, and put it in a book for us to read,admire, and emulate when our turn comes."

  Grandma looked thoughtfully at the fire as she spoke, and Lotty said,with her eye on the portfolio: "Perhaps Aunt Nell will do it for us.Then history won't be so dry, and we can glorify our fore-mothers aswell as fathers."

  "I'll see what I can find. Now spin away, Minnie, and sit still,boys,--if you can."

  Then, having settled grandma's foot-stool, and turned up the lamp, AuntNell read the tale of

  TABBY'S TABLE-CLOTH.

  On the 20th day of March, 1775, a little girl was trudging along acountry road, with a basket of eggs on her arm. She seemed in a greathurry, and looked anxiously about her as she went; for those werestirring times, and Tabitha Tarbell lived in a town that took a famouspart in the Revolution. She was a rosy-faced, bright-eyed lass offourteen, full of vigor, courage, and patriotism, and just then muchexcited by the frequent rumors which reached Concord that the Britishwere coming to destroy the stores sent there for safe keeping while theenemy occupied Boston. Tabby glowed with wrath at the idea, and(metaphorically speaking) shook her fist at august King George, being astanch little Rebel, ready to fight and die for her country rather thansubmit to tyranny of any kind.

  In nearly every house something valuable was hidden. Colonel Barrett hadsix barrels of powder; Ebenezer Hubbard, sixty-eight barrels of flour;axes, tents, and spades were at Daniel Cray's; and Captain David Brownhad guns, cartridges, and musket balls. Cannon were hidden in the woods;fire-arms were being manufactured at Barrett's Mills; cartouch-boxes,belts, and holsters, at Reuben Brown's; saltpetre at Josiah Melvin's;and much oatmeal was prepared at Captain Timothy Wheeler's. A morninggun was fired, a guard of ten men patrolled the town at night, and thebrave farmers were making ready for what they felt must come.

  There were Tories in the town who gave the enemy all the informationthey could gather; therefore much caution was necessary in making plans,lest these enemies should betray them. Pass-words were adopted, secretsignals used, and messages sent from house to house in all sorts ofqueer ways. Such a message lay hidden under the eggs in Tabby's basket,and the brave little girl was going on an important errand from heruncle, Captain David Brown, to Deacon Cyrus Hosmer, who lived at theother end of the town, by the South Bridge. She had been employedseveral times before in the same way, and had proved herselfquick-witted, stout-hearted, and light-footed. Now, as she trotted alongin her scarlet cloak and hood, she was wishing she could still furtherdistinguish herself by some great act of heroism; for good ParsonEmerson had patted her on the head and said, "Well done, child!" when heheard how she ran all the way to Captain Barrett's, in the night, towarn him that Doctor Lee, the Tory, had been detected sendinginformation of certain secret plans to the enemy.

  "I would do more than that, though it was a fearsome run through thedark woods. Wouldn't those two like to know all I know about thestores? But I wouldn't tell 'em, not if they drove a bayonet through me.I'm not afeard of 'em;" and Tabby tossed her head defiantly, as shepaused to shift her basket from one arm to the other.

  But she evidently was "afeard" of something, for her ruddy cheeks turnedpale and her heart gave a thump, as two men came in sight, and stoppedsuddenly on seeing her. They were strangers; and though nothing in theirdress indicated it, the girl's quick eye saw that they were soldiers;step and carriage betrayed it, and the rapidity with which these martialgentlemen changed into quiet travellers roused her suspicions at once.They exchanged a few whispered words; then they came on, swinging theirstout sticks, one whistling, the other keeping a keen lookout along thelonely road before and behind them.

  "My pretty lass, can you tell me where Mr. Daniel Bliss lives?" askedthe younger, with a smile and a salute.

  Tabby was sure now that they were British; for the voice was deep andfull, the face a ruddy English face, and the man they wanted was awell-known Tory. But she showed no sign of alarm, beyond the modestcolor in her cheeks, and answered civilly: "Yes, sir, over yonder apiece."

  "Thanks, and a kiss for that," said the young man, stooping to bestowhis gift. But he got a smart box on the ear, and Tabby ran off in a furyof indignation.

  With a laugh they went on, never dreaming that the little Rebel wasgoing to turn spy herself, and get the better of them. She hurried awayto Deacon Hosmer's, and did her errand, adding thereto the news thatstrangers were in town. "We must know more of them," said the Deacon."Clap a different suit on her, wife, and send her with the eggs to Mrs.Bliss. We have all we want of them, and Tabby can look well about her,while she rests and gossips over there. Bliss must be looked aftersmartly, for he is a knave, and will do us harm."

  Away went Tabby in a blue cloak and hood, much pleased with her mission;and, coming to the Tory's house about noon, smelt afar off a savory odorof roasting meat and baking pies.

  Stepping softly to the back-door, she peeped through a small window, andsaw Mrs. Bliss and her handmaid cooking away in the big kitchen, toobusy to heed the little spy, who slipped around to the front of thehouse, to take a general survey before she went in. All she sawconfirmed her suspicions; for in the keeping-room a table was set forthin great style, with the silver tankards, best china, and the finedamask table-cloth, which the housewife kept for holidays. Still anotherpeep through the lilac bushes before the parlor windows showed her thetwo strangers closeted with Mr. Bliss, all talking earnestly, but in toolow a tone for a word to reach even her sharp ears.

  "I _will_ know what they are at. I'm sure it is mischief, and I won't goback with only my walk for my pains," thought Tabby; and marching intothe kitchen, she presented her eggs with a civil message from MadamHosmer.

  "They are mighty welcome, child. I've used a sight for my custards, andneed more for th
e flip. We've company to dinner unexpected, and I'm muchput about," said Mrs. Bliss, who seemed to be concerned about somethingbesides the dinner, and in her flurry forgot to be surprised at theunusual gift; for the neighbors shunned them, and the poor woman hadmany anxieties on her husband's account, the family being divided,--onebrother a Tory, and one a Rebel.

  "Can I help, ma'am? I'm a master hand at beating eggs, Aunt Hitty says.I'm tired, and wouldn't mind sitting a bit if I'm not in the way," saidTabby, bound to discover something more before she left.

  "But you be in the way. We don't want any help, so you'd better besteppin' along home, else suthin' besides eggs may git whipped.Tale-bearers ain't welcome here," said old Puah, the maid, a sourspinster, who sympathized with her master, and openly declared she hopedthe British would put down the Yankee Rebels soon and sharply.

  Mrs. Bliss was in the pantry, and heard nothing of this little passageof arms; for Tabby hotly resented the epithet of "tale-bearer," thoughshe knew that the men in the parlor were not the only spies on thepremises.

  "When you are all drummed out of town and this house burnt to theground, you may be glad of my help, and I wish you may get it. Good-day,old crab-apple," answered saucy Tabby; and catching up her basket, shemarched out of the kitchen with her nose in the air.

  But as she passed the front of the house, she could not resist anotherlook at the fine dinner-table; for in those days few had time or heartfor feasting, and the best napery and china seldom appeared. One windowstood open, and as the girl leaned in, something moved under the longcloth that swept the floor. It was not the wind, for the March day wasstill and sunny, and in a minute out popped a gray cat's head, and pusscame purring to meet the new-comer whose step had roused her from a nap.

  "Where one tabby hides, another can. Can I dare to do it? What wouldbecome of me if found out? How wonderful it would be if I could hearwhat these men are plotting. I will!"

  A sound in the next room decided her; and, thrusting the basket amongthe bushes, she leaped lightly in and vanished under the table, leavingpuss calmly washing her face on the window-sill.

  As soon as it was done Tabby's heart began to flutter; but it was toolate to retreat, for at that moment in bustled Mrs. Bliss, and the poorgirl could only make herself as small as possible, quite hidden underthe long folds that fell on all sides from the wide, old-fashionedtable. She discovered nothing from the women's chat, for it ran onsage-cheese, egg-nog, roast pork, and lamentations over a burnt pie. Bythe time dinner was served, and the guests called in to eat it, Tabbywas calm enough to have all her wits about her, and pride gave hercourage to be ready for the consequences, whatever they might be.

  For a time the hungry gentlemen were too busy eating to talk much; butwhen Mrs. Bliss went out, and the flip came in, they were ready forbusiness. The window was shut, whereat Tabby exulted that she wasinside; the talkers drew closer together, and spoke so low that shecould only catch a sentence now and then, which caused her to pull herhair with vexation; and they swore a good deal, to the great horror ofthe pious little maiden curled up at their feet. But she heard enough toprove that she was right; for these men were Captain Brown and Ensign DeBernicre, of the British army, come to learn where the supplies werestored and how well the town was defended. She heard Mr. Bliss tell themthat some of the "Rebels," as he called his neighbors, had sent him wordthat he should not leave the town alive, and he was in much fear for hislife and property. She heard the Englishmen tell him that if he camewith them they would protect him; for they were armed, and three of themtogether could surely get safely off, as no one knew the strangers hadarrived but the slip of a girl who showed them the way. Here "the slipof a girl" nodded her head savagely, and hoped the speaker's ear stilltingled with the buffet she gave it.

  Mr. Bliss gladly consented to this plan, and told them he would showthem the road to Lexington, which was a shorter way to Boston thanthrough Weston and Sudbury, the road they came.

  "These people won't fight, will they?" asked Ensign De Bernicre.

  "There goes a man who will fight you to the death," answered Mr. Bliss,pointing to his brother Tom, busy in a distant field.

  The Ensign swore again, and gave a stamp that brought his heavy heeldown on poor Tabby's hand, as she leaned forward to catch every word.The cruel blow nearly forced a cry from her; but she bit her lips andnever stirred, though faint with pain. When she could listen again, Mr.Bliss was telling all he knew about the hiding places of the powder,grain, and cannon the enemy wished to capture and destroy. He could nottell much, for the secrets had been well kept; but if he had known thatour young Rebel was taking notes of his words under his own table, hemight have been less ready to betray his neighbors. No one suspected alistener, however, and all Tabby could do was to scowl at three pairs ofmuddy boots, and wish she were a man that she might fight the wearers ofthem.

  She very nearly had a chance to fight or fly; for just as they werepreparing to leave the table, a sudden sneeze nearly undid her. Shethought she was lost, and hid her face, expecting to be dragged out--toinstant death, perhaps--by the wrathful men of war.

  "What's that?" exclaimed the Ensign, as a sudden pause followed thatfatal sound.

  "It came from under the table," added Captain Brown, and a hand lifted acorner of the cloth.

  A shiver went through Tabby, and she held her breath, with her eye uponthat big, brown hand; but the next moment she could have laughed withjoy, for pussy saved her. The cat had come to doze on her warm skirts,and when the cloth was raised, fancying she was to be fed by her master,puss rose and walked out purring loudly, tail erect, with its white tipwaving like a flag of truce.

  "'Tis but the old cat, gentlemen. A good beast, and, fortunately for us,unable to report our conference," said Mr. Bliss, with an air of relief,for he had started guiltily at the bare idea of an eavesdropper.

  "She sneezed as if she were as great a snuff-taker as an old woman ofwhom we asked our way above here," laughed the Ensign, as they all rose.

  "And there she is now, coming along as if our grenadiers were afterher!" exclaimed the Captain, as the sound of steps and a wailing voicecame nearer and nearer.

  Tabby took a long breath, and vowed that she would beg or buy the dearold cat that had saved her from destruction. Then she forgot her owndanger in listening to the poor woman, who came in crying that herneighbors said she must leave town at once, or they would tar andfeather her for showing spies the road to a Tory's house.

  "Well for me I came and heard their plots, or I might be sent off inlike case," thought the girl, feeling that the more perils sheencountered, the greater heroine she would be.

  Mr. Bliss comforted the old soul, bidding her stay there till theneighbors forgot her, and the officers gave her some money to pay forthe costly service she had done them. Then they left the room, and aftersome delay the three men set off; but Tabby was compelled to stay in herhiding-place till the table was cleared, and the women deep in gossip,as they washed dishes in the kitchen. Then the little spy crept outsoftly, and raising the window with great care, ran away as fast as herstiff limbs would carry her.

  By the time she reached the Deacon's, however, and told her tale, theTories were well on their way, Mr. Bliss having provided them withhorses that his own flight might be the speedier.

  So they escaped; but the warning was given, and Tabby received greatpraise for her hour under the table. The town's-people hastened theirpreparations, and had time to remove the most valuable stores toneighboring towns; to mount their cannon and drill their minute-men; forthese resolute farmers meant to resist oppression, and the world knowshow well they did it when the hour came.

  Such an early spring had not been known for years; and by the 19th ofApril fruit trees were in bloom, winter grain was up, and the statelyelms that fringed the river and overarched the village streets werebudding fast. It seemed a pity that such a lovely world should bedisturbed by strife; but liberty was dearer than prosperity or peace,and the people leaped from their beds when
young Dr. Prescott came,riding for his life, with the message Paul Revere brought from Boston inthe night:--

  "Arm! arm! the British are coming!"

  Like an electric spark the news ran from house to house, and men madeready to fight, while the brave women bade them go, and did their bestto guard the treasure confided to their keeping. A little later, wordcame that the British were at Lexington, and blood had been shed. Thenthe farmers shouldered their guns, with few words but stern faces, andby sunrise a hundred men stood ready, with good Parson Emerson at theirhead. More men were coming in from the neighboring towns, and all feltthat the hour had arrived when patience ceased to be a virtue andrebellion was just.

  Great was the excitement everywhere; but at Captain David Brown's onelittle heart beat high with hope and fear, as Tabby stood at the door,looking across the river to the town, where drums were beating, bellsringing, and people hurrying to and fro.

  "I can't fight, but I _must_ see," she said; and catching up her cloak,she ran over the North Bridge, promising her aunt to return and bringher word as soon as the enemy appeared.

  "What news? Are they coming?" called the people, from the Manse and thefew houses that then stood along that road. But Tabby could only shakeher head and run the faster, in her eagerness to see what was happeningon that memorable day. When she reached the middle of the town she foundthat the little company had gone along the Lexington road to meet theenemy. Nothing daunted, she hurried in that direction and, climbing ahigh bank, waited to catch a glimpse of the British grenadiers, of whomshe had heard so much.

  About seven o'clock they came, the sun glittering on the arms of eighthundred English soldiers marching toward the hundred stout-heartedfarmers, who waited till they were within a few rods of them.

  "Let us stand our ground; and if we die, let us die here," said braveParson Emerson, still among his people, ready for anything butsurrender.

  "Nay," said a cautious Lincoln man, "it will not do for us to _begin_the war."

  So they reluctantly fell back to the town, the British following slowly,being weary with their seven-mile march over the hills from Lexington.Coming to a little brown house perched on the hillside, one of thethirsty officers spied a well, with the bucket swinging at the end ofthe long pole. Running up the bank, he was about to drink, when a girl,who was crouching behind the well, sprang up, and with an energeticgesture, flung the water in his face, crying:--

  "That's the way we serve spies!"

  Before Ensign De Bernicre--for it was he, acting as guide to theenemy--could clear his eyes and dry his drenched face, Tabby was goneover the hill with a laugh and a defiant gesture toward the red-coatsbelow.

  In high feather at this exploit, she darted about the town, watching theBritish at their work of destruction. They cut down and burnt theliberty pole, broke open sixty barrels of flour, flung five hundredpounds of balls into the mill-pond and wells, and set the court-house onfire. Other parties were ordered to different quarters of the town toransack houses and destroy all the stores they found. Captain Parsonswas sent to take possession of the North Bridge, and De Bernicre led theway, for he had taken notes on his former visit, and was a good guide.As they marched, a little scarlet figure went flying on before them, andvanished at the turn of the road. It was Tabby hastening home to warnher aunt.

  "Quick child, whip on this gown and cap and hurry into bed. These pryingfellows will surely have pity on a sick girl, and respect this room ifno other," said Mrs. Brown, briskly helping Tabby into a shortnight-gown and round cap, and tucking her well up when she was laiddown, for between the plump feather-beds were hidden many muskets, themost precious of their stores. This had been planned beforehand, andTabby was glad to rest and tell her tale while Aunty Brown put physicbottles and glasses on the table, set some evil-smelling herbs to simmeron the hearth, and, compromising with her conscience, concocted a nicelittle story to tell the invaders.

  Presently they came, and it was well for Tabby that the ensign remainedbelow to guard the doors while the men ransacked the house from garretto cellar; for he might have recognized the saucy girl who had twicemaltreated him.

  "These are feathers; lift the covers carefully or you'll be halfsmothered, they fly about so," said Mrs. Brown, as the men came to somecasks of cartridges and flints, which she had artfully ripped up severalpillows to conceal.

  Quite deceived, the men gladly passed on, leaving the very things theymost wanted to destroy. Coming to the bed-room, where more treasures ofthe same valuable sort were hidden in various nooks and corners, thedame held up her finger, saying, with an anxious glance toward Tabby:--

  "Step softly, please. You wouldn't harm a poor, sick girl. The doctorthinks it is small-pox, and a fright might kill her. I keep the chamberas fresh as I can with yarbs, so I guess there isn't much danger ofcatching it."

  The men reluctantly looked in, saw a flushed face on the pillow (forTabby was red with running, and her black eyes wild with excitement),took a sniff at the wormwood and motherwort, and with a hasty glanceinto a closet or two where sundry clothes concealed hidden doors,hastily retired to report the danger and get away as soon as possible.

  They would have been much disgusted at the trick played upon them ifthey had seen the sick girl fly out of bed and dance a jig of joy asthey tramped away to Barrett's Mills. But soon Tabby had no heart formerriment, as she watched the minute-men gather by the bridge, saw theBritish march down on the other side, and when their first volley killedbrave Isaac Davis and Abner Hosmer, of Acton, she heard Major Buttrickgive the order, "Fire, fellow-soldiers; for God's sake, fire!"

  For a little while shots rang, smoke rose, shouts were heard, and redand blue coats mingled in the struggle on the bridge. Then the Britishfell back, leaving two dead soldiers behind them. These were buriedwhere they fell; and the bodies of the Acton men were sent home to theirpoor wives, Concord's first martyrs for liberty.

  No need to tell more of the story of that day; all children know it, andmany have made a pilgrimage to see the old monument set up where theEnglish fell, and the bronze Minute-Man, standing on his granitepedestal to mark the spot where the brave Concord farmers fired the shotthat made the old North Bridge immortal.

  We must follow Tabby, and tell how she got her table-cloth. When thefight was over, the dead buried, the wounded cared for, and theprisoners exchanged, the Tories were punished. Dr. Lee was confined tohis own farm, on penalty of being shot if he left it, and the propertyof Daniel Bliss was confiscated by government. Some things were sold atauction, and Captain Brown bought the fine cloth and gave it to Tabby,saying heartily:--

  "There, my girl, that belongs to you, and you may well be proud of it;for, thanks to your quick wits and eyes and ears, we were not takenunawares, but sent the red-coats back faster than they came."

  And Tabby _was_ proud of it, keeping it carefully, displaying it withimmense satisfaction whenever she told the story, and spinning busily tomake a set of napkins to go with it. It covered the table when herwedding supper was spread, was used at the christening of her first boy,and for many a Thanksgiving and Christmas dinner through the happy yearsof her married life.

  Then it was preserved by her daughters, as a relic of their mother'syouth, and long after the old woman was gone, the well-worn cloth stillappeared on great occasions, till it grew too thin for anything butcareful keeping, to illustrate the story so proudly told by thegrandchildren, who found it hard to believe that the feeble old lady ofninety could be the lively lass who played her little part in theRevolution with such spirit.

  In 1861, Tabby's table-cloth saw another war, and made an honorable end.When men were called for, Concord responded "Here!" and sent a goodlynumber, led by another brave Colonel Prescott. Barretts, Hosmers,Melvins, Browns, and Wheelers stood shoulder to shoulder, as theirgrandfathers stood that day to meet the British by the bridge. Motherssaid, "Go my son," as bravely as before, and sisters and sweetheartssmiled with wet eyes as the boys in blue marched away again, cheered onby another noble Em
erson. More than one of Tabby's descendants went,some to fight, some to nurse; and for four long years the old townworked and waited, hoped and prayed, burying the dear dead boys senthome, nursing those who brought back honorable wounds, and sending moreto man the breaches made by the awful battles that filled both North andSouth with a wilderness of graves.

  The women knit and sewed Sundays as well as weekdays, to supply the callfor clothes; the men emptied their pockets freely, glad to give; and theminister, after preaching like a Christian soldier, took off his coatand packed boxes of comforts like a tender father.

  "More lint and bandages called for, and I do believe we've torn andpicked up every old rag in the town," said one busy lady to another, asseveral sat together making comfort-bags in the third year of the longstruggle.

  "I have cleared my garret of nearly everything in it, and only wish Ihad more to give," answered one of the patriotic Barrett mothers.

  "We can't buy anything so soft and good as worn out sheets andtable-cloths. New ones wont do, or I'd cut up every one of mine," said anewly married Wheeler, sewing for dear life, as she remembered the manycousins gone to the war.

  "I think I shall have to give our Revolutionary table-cloth. It's oldenough, and soft as silk, and I'm sure my blessed grandmother wouldthink that it couldn't make a better end," spoke up white-headed MadamHubbard; for Tabby Tarbell had married one of that numerous and worthyrace.

  "Oh, you wouldn't cut up that famous cloth, would you?" cried theyounger woman.

  "Yes, I will. It's in rags, and when I'm gone no one will care for it.Folks don't seem to remember what the women did in those days, so it'sno use keeping relics of 'em," answered the old lady, who would haveowned herself mistaken if she could have looked forward to 1876, whenthe town celebrated its centennial, and proudly exhibited the littlescissors with which Mrs. Barrett cut paper for cartridges, among otherancient trophies of that earlier day.

  So the ancient cloth was carefully made into a boxful of the finest lintand softest squares to lay on wounds, and sent to one of the Concordwomen who had gone as a nurse.

  "Here's a treasure!" she said, as she came to it among other comfortsnewly arrived from home. "Just what I want for my brave Rebel and poorlittle Johnny Bullard."

  The "brave Rebel" was a Southern man who had fought well and was badlywounded in many ways, yet never complained; and in the midst of greatsuffering was always so courteous, patient, and courageous, that the mencalled him "our gentleman," and tried to show how much they respected sogallant a foe. John Bullard was an English drummer-boy, who had beenthrough several battles, stoutly drumming away in spite of bullets andcannon-balls; cheering many a camp-fire with his voice, for he sang likea blackbird, and was always merry, always plucky, and so great afavorite in his regiment, that all mourned for "little Johnny" when hisright arm was shot off at Gettysburg. It was thought he would die; buthe pulled through the worst of it, and was slowly struggling back tohealth, still trying to be gay, and beginning to chirp feebly now andthen, like a convalescent bird.

  "Here, Johnny, is some splendid lint for this poor arm, and some of thesoftest compresses for Carrol's wound. He is asleep, so I'll begin withyou, and while I work I'll amuse you with the story of the oldtable-cloth this lint came from," said Nurse Hunt, as she stood by thebed where the thin, white face smiled at her, though the boy dreaded thehard quarter of an hour he had to endure every day.

  "Thanky, mum. We 'aven't 'ad a story for a good bit. I'm 'arty thismornin', and think I'll be hup by this day week, won't I?"

  "I hope so. Now shut your eyes and listen; then you wont mind thetwinges I give you, gentle as I try to be," answered the nurse,beginning her painful task.

  Then she told the story of Tabby's table-cloth, and the boy enjoyed itimmensely, laughing out at the slapping and the throwing water in theensign's face, and openly rejoicing when the red-coats got the worst ofit.

  "As we've beaten all the rest of the world, I don't mind our 'aving badluck that time. We har' friends now, and I'll fight for you, mum, like aBritish bull-dog, if I hever get the chance," said Johnny, when the taleand dressing were ended.

  "So you shall. I like to turn a brave enemy into a faithful friend, as Ihope we shall yet be able to do with our Southern brothers. I admiretheir courage and their loyalty to what they believe to be right; and weare all suffering the punishment we deserve for waiting till this sadwar came, instead of settling the trouble years ago, as we might havedone if we had loved honesty and honor more than money and power."

  As she spoke, Miss Hunt turned to her other patient, and saw by theexpression of his face that he had heard both the tale and the talk. Hesmiled, and said, "Good morning," as usual, but when she stooped to laya compress of the soft, wet damask on the angry wound in his breast, hewhispered, with a grateful look:--

  "You _have_ changed one 'Southern brother' from an enemy into a friend.Whether I live or die, I never can forget how generous and kind you haveall been to me."

  "Thank you! It is worth months of anxiety and care to hear such words.Let us shake hands, and do our best to make North and South as goodfriends as England and America now are," said the nurse, offering herhand.

  "Me, too! I've got one 'and left, and I give it ye with all me 'art. Godbless ye, sir, and a lively getting hup for the two of us!" criedJohnny, stretching across the narrow space that divided the beds, with abeaming face and true English readiness to forgive a fallen foe when hehad proved a brave one.

  The three hands met in a warm shake, and the act was a little lessonmore eloquent than words to the lookers-on; for the spirit ofbrotherhood that should bind us all together worked the miracle oflinking these three by the frail threads spun a century ago.

  So Tabby's table-cloth did make a beautiful and useful end at last.