It was a fine giving day and yet Polly was crying as she entered the bedroom. “What’s wrong?” “It’s General Howe. He’s decided to send men out into the countryside. And Major Lindley’s to go with them.” I wondered if Jeremiah had heard about this. “I’m sure he’s not leaving for good.” “It’s just that Father finally agreed to let me attend a play. There aren’t many more left this season, and Major Lindley was going to take me. But now we can’t go!” “I’m sure it wasn’t meant for thy inconvenience.” “No. But given the chance, Father might change his mind. I hope they kill all those rebels! They’re ruining all the fun.” That was a sentiment with which I could do nothing but disagree. “Kill all those rebels? My brother among them?” Someone ought to feel sorry for his death. Someone ought to be shamed by it. A flush lit her cheeks. “Not him. I meant . . . the others. I don’t see why they don’t just give up.” “Because they’ll be treated the same way as the prisoners at the new jail.
