en, she did
not say), to draw all the water that was taken from that well.

"A remnant of witchcraft!" remarked a soldier within hearing.

"Do I look like a witch?" she demanded.

"If you do," replied Major Pitcairn, "I admire New England witches, and
never would condemn one to be hung, or burned, or--smothered."

Martha Moulton never wore so brilliant a color on her aged cheeks as at
that moment. She felt bitter shame at the ruse she had attempted, but
silver spoons were precious, and, to escape the smile that went around
at Major Pitcairn's words, she was only too glad to go again to the well
and dip slowly the high, over-hanging sweep into the cool, clear, dark
depth below.

During this time the cold, frosty morning spent itself into the
brilliant, shining noon.

You know what happened at Concord on that 19th of April in the year
1775. You have been told the story, how the men of Acton met and
resisted the king's troops at the old North Bridge, how brave Captain
Davis and minute-man Hosmer fell, how the sound of their falling struck
down to the very heart of mother earth, and caused her to send forth her
brave sons to cry "Liberty, or Death!"

And the rest of the story; the sixty or more barrels of flour that the
king's troops found and struck the heads from, leaving the flour in
condition to be gathered again at nightfall, the arms and powder that
they destroyed, the houses they burned; all these, are they not recorded
in every child's history in the land?

While these things were going on, for a brief while, at mid-day, Martha
Moulton found her home deserted. She had not forgotten poor, suffering,
irate Uncle John in the regions above, and, so, the very minute she had
the chance, she made a strong cup of catnip tea (the real tea, you know,
was brewing in Boston harbor).

She turned the buttons, and, with a bit of trembling at her heart, such
as she had not felt all day, she ventured up the stairs, bearing the
steaming peace-offering before her.

Uncle John was writhing under the sharp thorns and twinges of his old
enemy, and in no frame of mind to receive any overtures in the shape of
catnip tea; nevertheless, he was watching, as well as he was able, the
motions of the enemy. As she drew near he cried out:

"Look out this window, and see! Much GOOD all your scheming will do
YOU!"

She obeyed his command to look, and the sight she then saw caused her
to let fall the cup of catnip tea and rush down the