e them
in the house? Haven't heard a single cackle this morning yet, but
yesterday was a remarkable day everyway. I believe the hens knew the
British were coming. Did you ever see such eggs? Wonder if my old lady
is awake yet! Guess I'll carry up some hot water for her and find
out."

Polly poured the water deftly from the big iron tea-kettle hanging
from the crane and hurried away with it, only to return with such
haste that she tripped on the threshold, broke the pitcher and sent
the water over everything it could reach. "Mother," she said,
recovering herself, "Parson Leavenworth will be here to breakfast.
He's coming down the road with father. My old lady will feel honored,
won't she? I know he's come for her. Phyllis, any more hot water to
spare? It's so good to take out wrinkles; she'll miss it, I know."

The sun had not climbed over Great Hill when breakfast was over, and
the last guest of the night had gone. Mrs. Punderson's daughter Anna
rode behind the Rev. Mark Leavenworth on his horse, Thankful with Mrs.
Punderson, the old lady in the chaise, and even Stiles had galloped
away toward the east, and yet not a traveler on the road had brought
tidings from New Haven. The group on the porch watching the departure
had not dispersed when Polly's ears caught a strain floating up the
river valley. She listened. She ran. She clasped her mother in her
arms. She kissed her. She whispered in her ear, "I hear him! He's
coming! Ethel is; and Cato is with him!" she cried out, embracing
Phyllis in her joy. The two mothers--the one white, the other black;
the one free, the other in bonds--went to listen. They stood side by
side on the porch; tears fell from their eyes, tears that through all
the years science has failed to distinguish, the one from the other.
Ethel's cheery call rang clear and clearer. Cato's wild cadence grew
near and nearer, but when the boys rode up beside the porch, Mrs.
Porter was on her knees in the little bed-room off the parlor, and
Phyllis was in the kitchen. New England mothers, both of them! Their
sorrows they could bear; their joys they hid from sight.

WATERBURY, CONN., September, 1898.

* * * * *

Transcriber's Notes

Incorrect quotes and a few obvious typos (hugh/huge, fireams/firearms,
and ziz/zig) have been fixed.

Otherwise, the author's original spelling has been preserved; e.g.
Yankeys, afright and affright, and the incorrect usage of 'its'.

Passage