The Messenger by Siri Mitchell

with that news. It would be an hour at least before he would get to the telling of it. Though short in stature, he was overlong in speech. Father often said that if he had been just a bit more strident, he might have been mistaken for a Presbyterian and saved our Meeting half its trouble. As it was, he settled into an offered chair as if he planned to stay a while.
    But one could not long begrudge him his news. Everyone yearned for word of our Friends being held in exile. They’d been arrested along with Father by the patriot Supreme Council back in September without due process or any explanation at all. And when officials had appealed to the Continental Congress on their behalf, Congress appealed to the Supreme Council and the Supreme Council had washed their hands of the whole affair. Once they had been exiled to Virginia, there was no one who claimed the authority to release them.
    We waited for over an hour, only to hear that all the Friends were doing well and none of them was ill. Samuel Elliott left soon thereafter.
    Father minced no words. “The only benefit of lodging here, with thy sister, is being saved the prospect of having to ask people to stay for dinner.”
    Mother didn’t scold him the way she might have done had we been back at Chestnut Street. There, our house had been renowned for its board. And we could count on upwards of twenty guests dining with us during the several-day Yearly Meetings that were held in the city.
    As they stood talking, I slipped from the parlor, grabbed my cloak, and made for the door. My plan was to leave and be back before any had noticed that I’d gone. But I had not counted on the enslaved.
    “The carriage for you, Miss Sunderland?” A man had stepped from the shadows as my hand reached for the door.
    I cast a glance at the parlor. How long would it be until my parents appeared? “Hannah.”
    “Pardon me, miss?”
    “Hannah. That’s my name. And what is thy name?”
    “My name be Davy, Miss Hannah.”
    “No. No ‘miss.’ Hannah will do.”
    “It may do for you, miss, but it surely won’t do for me.”
    I might have told him all people were equal to each other in God’s eyes, but I hadn’t the time. I hoped God would forgive me. “No carriage, thank thee. I’m walking.”
    “You’ll want Doll, then.”
    “I want no one. I’m perfectly fine by myself.”
    “Miss Polly always takes Doll. She’s not to leave the house without her. You’re of an age, if you don’t mind my saying, and Mrs. Pennington will tan my hide if I send you out into the city alone.”
    “Thee are not sending me anywhere. I am simply going by myself.”
    He shook his head. “No, miss. Not without Doll.”
    As if she’d been summoned by the conversation, a woman appeared at his elbow. I recognized her fine, dark features. Earlier that morning she’d served us breakfast.
    He turned an admonishing eye on her. “You’ll go with Miss Hannah wherever she go.”
    Clearly there was no way to deter him, and if I dallied any longer, I would risk being seen by my parents. And I’d be late. I’d just have to let her come along. “Fine then. Let’s be going.”
    When we reached the gate, I moved to open it, but Doll reached it first. She was clearly my elder, so it didn’t seem right for me to pass through first. “Please.” I gestured her forward.
    “No, miss.”
    “Please, I insist.”
    She shook her head, slowly but with definite conviction. “No, miss. ’Tisn’t right for the likes of me to pass before you.”
    “I’m expected at General Howe’s headquarters at ten o’clock, and if thee do not pass through first, I shall feel obliged to stand here until thee do. And that will make me late.”
    She shook her head gravely. “No, miss. I know my place and it sure ain’t to go ahead of you.”
    We stood there for a moment, she, I supposed, wanting desperately to stay within the constraints that she’d been given, and me desperately wishing that she didn’t have any