his wife, with intent to hurt her as little as
possible.

"I am going, Molly," he said; "I've joined the Continental army."

Then he waited to see the effect of his words. Although he knew that
his wife was patriotic, he was utterly unprepared for the response
that flamed in her eager eyes as she spoke.

"God bless you!" she exclaimed; "I am proud to be a soldier's wife.
Count on me to stand by you."

And stand by she did, letting no tears mar the last hours with him,
and waving as cheerful a farewell when he left her as though he were
merely going for a day's pleasuring. From the firing of the first gun
in the cause of freedom her soul had been filled with patriotic zeal,
and now she rejoiced in honoring her country by cheerfully giving the
man she loved to its service, although she privately echoed her wish
of long ago when she had exclaimed, "Oh, how I wish I could be a
soldier!"

Like a brave and sensible young woman, Molly stayed on with the
Irvings, where she scrubbed and scoured and baked and brewed and spun
and washed as vigorously as before, smiling proudly with no sharp
retort when her friends laughingly predicted that she "had lost her
pretty barber, and would never set eyes on him again." She was too
glad to have him serving his country, and too sure of his devotion, to
be annoyed by any such remarks, and kept quietly on with her work as
though it were her sole interest in life.

Months went by, and hot July blazed its trail of parched ground and
wilted humanity. One morning, as usual, Molly hung her wash on the
lines, then she took a pail and went to gather blackberries on a
near-by hillside. As she came back later with a full pail, she saw a
horseman, as she afterward said, "riding like lightning up to General
Irving's house." Perhaps he had brought news from her husband, was her
instant thought, and she broke into a run, for she had received no
tidings from him for a long time, and was eager to know where he was
and how he fared. She had been right in her instinct, the messenger
had brought a letter from John Hays, and it contained great news
indeed, for he wrote:

"When this reaches you, take horse with bearer, who will go with you
to your father's home. I have been to the farm and seen your parents,
who wish you to be with them now. And if you are there, I shall be
able to see you sometimes, as we are encamped in the vicinity."

Molly might have objected to such a peremptory command, but the l