The Little Red Foot

by Robert W. Chambers

  CHAPTER XI

  SUMMER HOUSE POINT

  The sun in my eyes and the noise of drums awoke me, where, relieved onpost by Nick, I had been sleeping on the veranda.

  Beyond the orchard on the Johnstown road, mounted officers in blue andbuff were riding amid undulating ranks of moving muskets; and I knewthat the Continental Line had arrived at Summer House Point, and wasglad of it.

  As I shook loose my blanket and stood up, black Flora and Colas came upfrom their kitchen below ground, and seemed astonished to see me stillthere.

  "Is your mistress awake?" I demanded. But they did not know; so I badeFlora go inside and awaken Lady Johnson. Then I went down to the well inthe orchard, where Nick stood sentry, looking through the blossomingboughs at what was passing on the mainland road beyond the Point.

  It was a soft, sunny morning, and a pleasant scent from the apple bloom,which I remember was full o' bees.

  Through the orchard, on the small peninsula, now came striding toward usa dozen or more officers of the regiments of Colonels Dayton andLivingston, all laughing together and seeming very merry; and some, asthey passed under the flowering branches, plucked twigs of white andpink flowers and made themselves nosegays.

  Their major, who seemed to know me as an officer, though I did not knowhim, called out in high good humour:

  "Well, my lord Northesk, did you and your rangers arrive in time toclose the cage on our pretty bird?"

  "Yes, sir," said I, reddening, and not pleased.

  "Lady Johnson is here then?"

  "Yes, Major."

  At that instant the front door opened and Lady Johnson came out quicklyand stood on the veranda, the sun striking across her pallid face, whichpaleness was more due to her condition than to any fear of our soldiery.

  She was but partly robed, and that hastily; her hair all unpowdered andundressed, and only a levete of China silk flung about her girlishfigure, and making still more evident her delicate physical condition.

  But in her eyes I saw storms a-brewing, and her lips and features wentwhite as she stood there, clenching and unclenching one hand, and stilla little blinded by the sun in her face.

  We all had uncovered before her, bowing very low; and, if she noticed meat first, I am not certain, but she gave our Major such a deadly starethat it checked his speech and put him clean out o' countenance, leavinghim a-twiddling his sword-knot and dumb as a fish.

  "What does this mean?" said she, her lip trembling with increasingpassion. "Have you come here to arrest me?"

  And, as nobody replied, she stamped her bare foot in its silkenchamber-shoe, like any angry child in petty fury when disobliged.

  "Is it not enough," she continued, "that you drive my unhappy husbandout of his own house, but you must presently follow me here to mock andinsult me? What has our family done to merit this outrage?"

  Our Major, astonished and out o' countenance, attempted a civil word tocalm her, but she swept us all with scornful eyes and stamped her footagain in such anger that her shoe fell off and landed on the grass.

  "Our only crime is loyalty to a merciful and Christian King!" she cried,paying no heed to the shoe. "Our punishment is that we are like to behunted as they hunt wild beasts! By a pack of rebels, too! Shame,gentlemen! Is this worthy even of embattled shop-keepers?"

  "Madame, I beg you----"

  But she had no patience to listen.

  "You have forced me out of my home in Johnstown," she said bitterly,"and I thought to find refuge under this poor roof. But now you comehunting me here! Very well, gentlemen, I leave you in possession and goto Fish House. And if you hunt me out o' Fish House, I shall go on, Godknows where!--for I do not choose to endure the insult with which yourmere presence here affronts me!"

  I had picked up her silk shoe and now went to her with it, where shestood on the veranda, biting at her lip, and her eyes all a-glitter withangry tears.

  "For God's sake, madam," said I, "do not use us so harshly. We mean noinsult and no harm----"

  "John Drogue," she said with a great sob, "I have loved you as abrother, but I had rather see you dead there on this violated thresholdthan know that the Laird of Northesk is become a rebel to his King!"

  I knelt down and drew the shoe over her bare foot. Then I stood up andtook her hand, laying it very gently upon my arm. She suffered me tolead her into the house--to the door of her bedroom, where Claudia,already dressed, took her from me.

  "Oh, John, John," she sobbed, "what is this pack o' riff-raff doing herewith their cobbler majors and carpenter colonels--all these pettyshop-keepers in uniform who come from filthy Boston to ride over us?"

  Claudia's eyes were very bright, but without any trace of fear or anger.

  "What troops are these, Jack?" she inquired coolly. "And do they reallycome here to make prisoners of two poor women?"

  I told her that these soldiers formed a mixed battalion from thecommands of Colonels Dayton and Livingston, and that they would encampfor the present within sight of the Summer House.

  "Do you mean that Polly and I are prisoners?" she repeatedincredulously.

  "I'm afraid I do mean that, Claudia," said I.

  At the word "prisoner" Lady Johnson flamed:

  "Are you not ashamed, Jack Drogue, to tell me to my face such barbarousnews!" she cried. "You, a gentleman, to consort with vulgar bandits whomake prisoners of women! What do you think of your Boston friends now?What do you think of your blacksmith generals and 'pothecarycolonels----"

  "Polly! Be silent!" entreated Claudia, shaking her arm. "Is this adecent manner to conduct when the fortune of war fails to suit yourtastes?"

  And to me: "No one is like to harm us, I take it. We are not in personaldanger, are we?"

  "Good Lord!" said I, mortified that she should even ask me.

  "Well, then!" she said in a lively voice to Lady Johnson, who had turnedher back on me in sullen rage, "it will be but a few days at worst,Polly. These rebel officers are not ogres. No! So in Heaven's name letus make the best of this business--until Mr. Washington graciouslypermits us to go on to Albany or to New York."

  "I shall not go thither!" stormed Lady Johnson, pacing her chamber likea very child in the tantrums; "I shall not deign to inhabit any citywhich is held by dirty rebels----"

  "But we shall drive them out first!" insisted Claudia, with an impudentlook at me. "Surely, dear, Albany will soon be a proper city to residein; General Howe has said it;--and so we had best address a politeletter to Mr. Washington, requesting a safe conduct thither and aflag----"

  "I shall not write a syllable to the arch-rebel Washington!" stormedLady Johnson. "And I tell you plainly, Jack, I expect to have my throatcut before this shameful business is ended!"

  "You had best conduct sensibly, both of you," said I bluntly; "for I'mtired of your airs and vapours; and Colonel Dayton will stand nononsense from either of you!"

  "John!" faltered Lady Johnson, "do--do you, too, mean to use usbrutally?"

  "I merely beg you to consider what you say before you say it, PollyJohnson! You speak to a rebel of 'dirty' rebels and 'arch' rebels; youconduct as though we, who hold another opinion than that entertained byyou, were the scum and offscouring of the earth."

  "I meant it not as far as it concerns you, John Drogue," she said withanother sob.

  "Then be pleased to trim your speech to my brother officers," said I,still hotly vexed by her silly behaviour. "We went to Johnstown to takeyour husband because we believe he has communicated with Canada. And itwas proper of us to do so.

  "We came here to detain you until some decent arrangement can be madewhereby you shall have every conceivable comfort and every reasonableliberty, save only to do us a harm by communicating with your friendswho are our enemies.

  "Therefore, it would be wise for you to treat us politely and not railat us like a spoiled child. Our duty here is not of our own choosing,nor is it to our taste. No man desires to play jailer to any woman. Butfor the present it must be so. Therefore, as I say, it mi
ght prove moreagreeable for all if you and Claudia observe toward us the ordinarydecencies of polite usage!"

  There was a silence. Lady Johnson's back remained turned toward me; shewas weeping.

  Claudia took her hand and turned and looked at me with all the livelymischief, all the adorable impudence I knew so well:

  "La, Mr. Drogue," says she mockingly, "some gentlemen are born so andothers are made when made officers in armies. And captivity is irksome.So, if your friends desire to pay their respects to us poor captives, Ifor one shall not be too greatly displeased----"

  "Claudia!" cried Lady Johnson, "do you desire a dish of tea with tinkersand tin-peddlars?"

  "I hear you, Polly," said she, "but prefer to hear you further afterbreakfast--which, thank God! I can now smell a-cooking." And, to me:"Jack, will you breakfast with us----"

  She stopped abruptly: the door of Sir William's gun room opened, and theScottish girl, Penelope Grant, walked out.

  "Lord!" said Claudia, looking at her in astonishment. "And who may yoube, and how have you come here?"

  "I am Penelope Grant," she answered, "servant to Douw Fonda ofCaughnawaga; and I came last night with Mr. Drogue."

  The perfect candour of her words should have clothed them withinnocence. And, I think, did so. Yet, Claudia shot a wicked look at me,which did not please me.

  But I ignored her and explained the situation briefly to Lady Johnson,who had turned to stare at Penelope, who stood there quiteself-possessed in her shabby dress of gingham.

  There was a silence; then Claudia asked the girl if she would takeservice with her; and Penelope shook her head.

  "I pay handsomely, and I need a clever wench to care for me," insistedClaudia; "and by your fine, white hands I see you are well accustomed toladies' needs. Are you not, Penelope?"

  "I am servant to Douw Fonda," repeated the girl. "It would not be kindin me to leave him who offers to adopt me. Nor is it decent to abandonhim in times like these."

  Lady Johnson came forward slowly, her tear-marred eyes clearing.

  "My brother, Stephen, has spoken of you. I understood him to say thatyou are the daughter of a Scottish minister. Is this true?"

  "Yes, my lady."

  "Then you are no servant wench."

  "I serve."

  "Why?"

  "My parents are dead. I must earn my bread."

  "Oh. You have no means to maintain you?"

  "None, madam."

  "How long have you been left an orphan?"

  "These three years, my lady."

  "You came from Scotland?"

  "From France, my lady."

  "How so?"

  "My father preached to the exiled Scots who live in Paris. When he wasdying, I promised to take ship and come to America, because, he said,only in America is a young girl safe from men."

  "Safe?" quoth Claudia, smiling.

  "Yes, madam."

  "Safe from what, child?"

  "From the unlawful machinations of designing men, madam. My father toldme that men hunt women as a sport."

  "Oh, la!" cried Claudia, laughing; "you have it hind end foremost! Manis the hunted one! Man is the victim! Is it not so, Jack?"--looking soimpudently at me that I was too vexed to smile in return, but got veryred and gazed elsewhere.

  "And what did you then, Penelope Grant?" inquired Lady Johnson, with asoft sort of interest which was natural and unfeigned, she having agentle heart and tender under all her pride and childishness.

  "I took ship, my lady, and came to New York."

  "And then?"

  "I went to Parson Gano in his church,--who was a friend to my father,though a Baptist. I was but a child, and he cared for me for threeyears. But I could not always live on others' bounty; so he yielded tomy desires and placed me as servant to Douw Fonda, who was at that timevisiting New York. And so, when Mr. Fonda was ready to go home toCaughnawaga, I accompanied him."

  "And are his aid and crutch in his old age," said Lady Johnson, gently."What wonder, then, he wishes to adopt you, Penelope Grant."

  "If you will be my companion," cried Claudia, "I shall dare adopt you,pretty as you are--and risk losing every lover I possess!"

  The Scottish girl's brown eyes widened at that; but even Lady Johnsonlaughed, and I saw the loveliest smile begin to glimmer on Penelope'ssoft lips.

  "Thank heaven for a better humour in the house," thought I, and waspleased that Claudia had made a gayety of the affair.

  I went to the window and looked out. Smoke from the camp fires of theContinentals made a haze all along the reedy waterfront. I saw theirsentries walking their posts; heard the noise of their axes in the bush;caught a glimpse of my own men lying in the orchard on the new grass,and Nick cooking jerked meat at a little fire of coals, which gleamed inthe grass like a heap of dusty jewels.

  And, as I stood a-watching, I felt a touch at my elbow, and turned toface the girl, Penelope.

  "Your promise, sir," she said. "You have not forgotten?"

  "No," I replied, flushing again under Claudia's mocking gaze. "But youshould first eat something."

  "And you, also," said Lady Johnson, coming to me and laying both handsupon my shoulders.

  She looked into my eyes very earnestly, very sadly.

  "Forgive me, Jack," she said.

  I kissed her hands, saying that it was I who needed forgiveness, to sospeak to her in her deep anxiety and unhappiness; but she shook her headand bade me remain and eat breakfast; and went away to her chamber todress, carrying Claudia to aid her, and leaving me alone there with thegirl Penelope.

  "So," said I civilly, though still annoyed by memory of my horse and howthis girl had carried everything with so high a hand, "so you have livedin France?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Hum! Well, did you find the people agreeable?"

  "Yes, sir--the children. I was but fifteen when I left France."

  "Then you now own to eighteen years."

  "Yes, sir."

  "A venerable age."

  At that she lifted her brown eyes. I smiled; and that enchanting,glimmering smile touched her lips again. And I thought of what I hadheard concerning her in Caughnawaga, and how, when the old gentleman wasenjoying his afternoon nap, she was accustomed to take her knitting tothe porch.

  And I remembered, too, what Nick and others said concerning all thegallants of the countryside, how they swarmed about that porch likeflies around a sap-pan.

  "I have been told," said I, "that all young men in Tryon sit ringedaround you when you take your knitting to the porch at Cayadutta Lodge.Nor can I blame them, now that I have seen you smile."

  At that she blushed so brightly that I was embarrassed and somewhatastonished to see how small a progress this girl had really made incoquetry. I was to learn that she blushed easily; I did not know itthen; but it presently amused me to find her, after all, so unschooled.

  "Why," said I, "should you show your colours to a passing craft thatfires no shot nor even thinks to board you? I am no pirate, Penelope;like those Johnstown gallants who gather like flies, they say----"

  But I checked my words, not daring to plague her further, for the colourwas surging in her cheeks and she seemed unaccustomed to such harmlessbantering as mine.

  "Lord!" thought I, "here is a very lie that this maid is any such sirenas Nick thinks her, for her pretty thumb is still wet with sucking."

  Yet I myself had become sensible that there really was about her a_something_--exactly what I knew not--but some seductive quality, somevague enchantment about her, something unusual which compelled men'snotice. It was not, I thought, entirely the agreeable contrast of yellowhair and dark eyes; nor a smooth skin like new snow touched to a rosyhue by the afterglow.

  She sat near the window, where I stood gazing out across the water,toward the mountains beyond. Her hands, joined, rested flat between herknees; her hair, in the sun, was like maple gold reflected in a ripple.

  "Lord!" thought I, "small wonder that the gay blades of Tryon shouldcome a-m
eddling to undo so pretty a thing."

  But the thought did not please me, yet it was no concern o' mine. But Inow comprehended how this girl might attract men, and, strangely enough,was sorry for it.

  For it seemed plain that here was no coquette by intention or by anyknowledge of the art of pleasing men; but she was one, nevertheless, sosweetly her dark eyes regarded you when you spoke; so lovely the glimmerof her smile.

  And it was, no doubt, something of these that men noticed--and her youthand inexperience, which is tender tinder to hardened flint that is evereager to strike fire and start soft stuff blazing.