rid of the British officer as quickly as possible, and Sarah and Dorothy, having heard the announcement, set up a most doleful cry; but the latter was no longer inclined to give herself wholly over to grief.
"He will be hanged if you take him away!" she cried imploringly.
"Ay, my child, and richly does he deserve the fate, not only for plying the trade of spy, but because he has put honest men, like neighbor Lamb and myself, in such sore straits."
"And he has little children at home, whom I am certain he loves dearly, for he kissed Sarah and me very tenderly."
"Yet he would have done that which might have put our children in jeopardy," the silversmith said with a certain determined closing of his lips, which was familiar to his friends as a token that he had finally decided a perplexing question.
"But father—" Dorothy began pleadingly, and her mother, returning with the weapons at this moment, interrupted her by saying:
"It is not seemly that children should dispute with their parents. Your father knows what is best, and that will be done."
"Ay, I will strive to wipe the stain from my name," the silversmith said as he flourished the pistols to the great alarm of the ladies. "Follow
