" 'Sir!' and Aunt Polly's voice trembled perceptibly but she
waved the white flag manfully under his very nose, 'sir, I demand
a safe passage for these innocent children to their different
homes.'
"The officer stared, and his mouth twitched mischievously as if
he had hard work to keep from laughing outright. But he was a
gentleman; and when he spoke, he spoke like one.
" 'My good woman,' he said kindly, 'these children are nothing to
me. If you wish permission for them to go to their own homes you
are welcome to it, though in what way the matter concerns me I
must confess I am at a loss to imagine."
Then, and not till then, Aunt Polly broke down and sobbed aloud:
" 'Run, children,' she cried as soon as she could speak; 'go home
just as fast as you can scud; an' tell your folks,' she added
with a gust of gratitude, 'that there's worse folks in the world
than an Englishman.'
"You may be sure that we waited for no further urging; and as we
flew, rather than ran, in the direction of our different homes, I
heard the irrepressible burst of laughter with which the officer
and his men received the grateful spinster's compliment which, to
the day of her death, she loved to repeat whenever she told the
thrilling story of her adventure with the English officer, 'when
Hampden was took by the British in 1814;' always concluding with
this candid admission:
" 'An' really, now, if he'd 'a' been anybody but an Englishman,
an' an inimy, I should 'a' said that I never sot eyes on a
better-built, more mannerly man, in all my born days.
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