THE FLAG OF THEIR REGIMENT
Prudence looked up from her sewing. It was a pleasant place to work, outthere in the morning sunshine that trickled through the big whitepillars of the broad piazza. The wide street was overarched by the leafybranches of the spreading elms, but the houses that lined the streetswere strangely empty of life.
It was in Philadelphia in the long, long-ago time of the Revolution.Prudence was a quaint, demure little Colonist girl. In all her elevenyears she had known nothing save the daily routine of the simple home;the scouring of floors, the polishing of copper kettles and brassandirons and mahogany chairs, the making of huge loaves of bread andyellow butter and round cheeses, the bleaching of linen, and thepatching together of gay blocks of colored cloth to make log-cabin andmorning-star bed quilts.
Sometimes there was a quilting bee or donation party at the minister'sto attend. These, with their feasts of rich preserves and pound cake,and the children's table set after the grown-ups had finished, werewonderful parties for Prudence. Usually, though, her days were very muchalike. She helped her mother and studied her lessons from school booksin queer wooden covers, and stitched her sampler when the studying wasdone.
COLONIAL SILVER]
It was not a cross-stitch sampler, though, that Prudence was working onso busily now. Her needle flew in and out as she stitched together witheven small stitches some long straight strips of red calico and whitecotton. In her lap lay some star-shaped pieces of plain white cottoncalico. The edges were neatly turned in and basted ready for sewing upona square of blue calico cloth that Prudence had just cut.
"Put up your work! It's too pleasant a day to sew."
Prudence looked up and saw a boy standing in front of her--her neighbor,William Brewster. The hair of each of these little Philadelphia childrenwas cut short and square. They had the same round, rosy faces.Prudence's short-sleeved, short-waisted frock and William's ruffledshirt were both cut from the same cloth. It was green and white checkedgingham from Deacon Wells' store. From beneath William's long trousersand Prudence's skirt showed the same stout shoes with copper tips on thetoes.
William ran up the steps of the piazza and pulled Prudence's sewing.
"Oh, William!" Prudence gasped. "Be careful; you'll soil the whitecotton I fear. What ails your hands? I never saw them so stained beforein all my life."
William dropped down on the top step and held up his two brown hands inthe sunlight, laughing merrily.
"You are indeed right, Prudence," he said. "My hands need a dose of mymother's good soft soap, but"--the boy's voice dropped to a whisper--"allthis morning I have been busy digging holes in the orchard."
"Why?" Prudence's blue eyes were wide with wonder. William got up nowand looked all about him to see that no one was listening. Then hewhispered in Prudence's ear.
"For burying the silver," he explained. "We packed it all in a strongbox; my grandmother's teaspoons, the silver cake basket with the designof strawberries around the edge, and the sugar tongs. We buried themall; oh, very deeply."
"Was it necessary, William?" Prudence's eyes were frightened as shespoke. "I know that my mother, before she had to take to her bed withthe ague, planned to hide our silver in the well that is dried out.Are--are the Red Coats coming through Philadelphia soon?"
"They do say that they are coming. I am very fearful," William answered.Then, as Prudence's pink cheeks grew a little pale at the thought, theboy pointed to her sewing.
"What are you stitching, Prudence? Surely you are not going to dressyourself in these gaudy colors? It would scarcely be right in these hardtimes."
Prudence laughed, shaking out the strips of scarlet and white thatfilled her lap.
"No, indeed, William. Dark colors and plain frocks must be worn by uschildren of the war. I am making a flag. Our great, beautiful stars andstripes of the Colonies went to our regiment with father and yourbrother John. But I went down to the flag shop of Mrs. Betty Ross notlong ago, and I stood awhile on the threshold, watching how she and hermaids cut and sewed their red, white, and blue cloth together. I said tomyself, 'why not make your own flag, Prudence Williams? You have tenfingers and a piece bag up in the attic.' And here it is, all done butsewing on the little white stars."
"Oh, Prudence!" William's eyes shone.
"It is wonderful! How did you ever measure and sew it so well? I alwaysdid say that you are the most clever girl with your needle of any intown."
"It _is_ carefully made," Prudence assented, "but that is because Ithought of my regiment with every stitch. And I wished that I mightmarch in the regiment beside my father, waving my flag, and shouting forthe independence of our dear Colonies at every step. Oh, it is hard,William, to be a girl in this time of the Revolution, with nothing to dobut sit at home."
"'IT IS HARD, WILLIAM, TO BE A GIRL ... WITH NOTHING TODO BUT SIT AT HOME'"]
"That it is," William said, "but now let's go in the house and delve inyour cooky crock, Prudence. Perhaps your cook has filled it with hergood caraway cakes," and the two little neighbors disappeared throughthe great white door of the old house.
In the days that followed, Prudence quite forgot to dread the coming toPhiladelphia of the British soldiers. Rumors came of how the Red Coatshad marched through the near-by towns and countryside. They had takenpossession of the homesteads, appropriated the supplies that had beenleft for the women and children, and plundered the treasures of silverthat were almost all the wealth of the Colonists. News of this reachedthe ears of those who remained behind, alone, in Philadelphia. ButPrudence paid little heed to the rumors. Her mother was better, butstill an invalid and confined to her room. There was only one maidservant to do the work of the large house, and Prudence found herself areal little housekeeper with her hands very full. All day long shetripped up and down the wide oak staircase, with instructions from herdear mother to the maid in the kitchen, and then helped to carry themout. She had finished the flag. It was laid away in a drawer.
"It's hardly safe to fly a flag from your piazza, Prudence," sensibleWilliam had warned. So Prudence opened the drawer only when she had alittle spare time. Then she would kneel down on the rag carpet in frontof the drawer and hold the beloved Stars and Stripes tenderly in herarms.
"I love every star, and every color," she would say to herself. "Oh, mayGod win the battle for us and help to give me back my father, andWilliam his brother John!"
The next morning, when Prudence set the tray with her mother'sbreakfast, she laid it with unusual care. Upon the sun-bleached linencloth stood the thin china dishes, white with a pattern of raisedbunches of grapes in purple and green. The silver spoons and forks werearranged neatly. Prudence's mother, sitting in a big arm chair by thewindow where the sweet odors of the garden roses were blown up to her,looked lovingly at her small daughter.
"You are a good little housewife, my dear," she said. "I don't know whatI should have done without you. Father will find his little girl almosta little woman when he returns." She paused a moment, lifting one of thesilver spoons to break the end of her eggshell. "If he ever doesreturn," she sighed. "Oh, I should have hidden the silver weeks ago."The sound of a muffled drum struck her ear. She looked at Prudence interror. "Pull the curtains close, child, and lock all the doors. The RedCoats are coming."
Like a line of fire taking its winding way in and out between thehouses, the regiment of British soldiers streamed through the streets ofPhiladelphia. Here, it stopped as an officer and his men stripped thefruit from some peaceful orchard or garden. There, at an officer'sorder, a group of soldiers entered a house, and returned with bits ofold family treasure that war gave them the privilege of taking.
Prudence's heart beat fast, but she tried to be brave. She ran from roomto room, stowing away the silver candlesticks and tableware, closingblinds, and locking doors. The old maid servant, her apron held over herhead, had fled to the cellar in her fright. Her mother, bravelydirecting Prudence, was still unable to leave her room. Suddenly thefront door burst open and in
came William.
"I couldn't bear to leave you alone, Prudence," he said. "See, I broughtmy father's old drum, thinking we could make a little noise on it andscare the Red Coats."
Prudence looked into the brave face of her little neighbor.
"You've given me an idea, William," she exclaimed. She ran over to thechest of drawers, opened one drawer, and pulled out the little homemadeflag.
"We'll both scare the Red Coats," she said. "We won't fasten the doors,for it wouldn't be of any use. The soldiers could very easily break thebolts and I can't find any safe place to hide the silver. Come. We'll goright out on the piazza and meet the whole British army if it comes!"She clutched William's hand, and tugged him toward the door.
"Do we dare?" William's round, merry face was very sober.
"Of course we dare. Come on. You drum and I'll wave the Stars andStripes," Prudence said.
The Williams' white house, set a little back from the street in themidst of sweet old flower beds and low hedges of box and yew, lookedlike a prize to the ruthless Red Coats. It was well known inPhiladelphia at that time that Prudence's father had used much of hiswealth to further the cause of the Colonies. This made the invadingenemy hate him. It was a common rumor, too, that although the Williams'chests of gold were greatly depleted, there was still much treasure ofsilver left in the home. News of it passed from mouth to mouth of thesoldiers.
"There's the house. Left flank, wheel, Halt!" shouted the Britishgeneral in command. He turned in at the Williams' gate and strode up thepath. At the steps he looked up and stopped. "Gad!" he said, "thechildren of these stubborn Colonists would defy us, too," but a smiletook away the stern lines from his mouth.
On the top step of the piazza stood Prudence and William, two bravelittle Colonists. William was beating a loud, _rap tap_, on the crackedhead of an old drum. Prudence, her arm held high above her head, wavedthe little home-made flag that showed the glorious stars and stripes oftheir regiment.
"You mustn't come a step farther, sir!" she commanded.
"No indeed!" echoed William. "We won't let you come in."
"So you're holding the fort, are you?" the General asked.
"We have to, sir," Prudence explained. "My father is with the army ofthe Colonies and my mother is ill. This is my neighbor, WilliamBrewster. He came over to help me guard the house." Then she turnedpleading eyes toward the great man as she held out her flag.
"It looks to me as if there were a thousand Red Coats, sir, more orless, out there in the road. There are only two of us. Please, sir, forthe sake of our flag, march on!"
Was it dust or the mist of tears that made the British general wipe hiseyes? He reached out one ungloved hand and grasped Prudence's littleone.
"Give my sympathy to your mother, my child," he said kindly, "and tellher that I hope she will soon be better. Little soldiers, remember thatnever before have I surrendered, but now I do, in the name of the King.March on!" he ordered to his men. Looking back he saw Prudence andWilliam standing in the gate and waving him good-bye until the trees andthe distance shut them from his view.