The Messenger by Siri Mitchell Page A

constraints at all. Would that she could know the truth that I did: There was that of God in everyone. And no man should bow to any but Him.
    “What if thee went first and held the gate open for me?”
    Doll pursed her lips, lifted her chin. “If that’s what you want me to do.”
    That was not what I wanted her to do, but as Mother had said just that morning, sometimes we had to settle for expediency.
    She opened the gate and held it for me. I went through it with a sigh of relief. If we walked quickly, I could still make it to headquarters on time.
    “Hannah!”
    I turned to see Mother coming down the steps, tying her hat beneath her chin as she came. “Wait for me!”

     
    I only had several blocks to settle on a plan.
    When we reached Third Street, I moved to the right as Mother began to turn left. Poor Doll, caught in confusion, was nearly knocked over by a cart that rumbled past.
    “Hannah—this way! We’re off to the Gilberts’. I’ve a mind to read the letter of which Friend Elliot spoke.”
    I wanted to read it as well, only not right then. Right then I had to figure out how to get to Major Lindley’s office unaccompanied. A gust of wind sliced between us, pushing our skirts against our knees. “But the Gilberts are in the Northern Liberties. We’ll be chilled to the bone before we reach them. Hadn’t we better stop at the Newlands’ first, to warm ourselves?” It was the only ploy I could think of to keep her in the city, myself along with her.
    “Perhaps . . . I suppose the letter will still be there when we arrive.”
    My knees nearly buckled in relief. At least now I could walk in the right direction, though I still had to absent myself before we walked too much farther. I could not just state that I wanted to visit the general’s headquarters, could I? I ventured a look at Mother beneath the brim of my hat. No, I could not. For if I did, then I would have to explain my purpose. I was quite sure she had never contemplated disregarding—not once in her forty years—a pronouncement of the Meeting.
    Not like I had.
    And had she ever dared to contemplate it, I knew she would never have done it.
    Not like I was going to.
    Only two blocks left. I did not know how people managed a life of deceit. It was much too taxing, in my opinion. I’d already had to insist upon changing Mother’s order of calls, and for no good reason save the cold. What could I possibly say that would convince Mother and Doll to go on their way and leave me behind?
    “I haven’t had the chance to call on the Evans in a while . . .” Mother was looking off toward Spruce Street, where Betsy lived with her family.
    “Why don’t I call on her?” I could do it after I’d stopped at Major Lindley’s office.
    Mother looked up the street toward the Northern Liberties, then back toward Spruce Street. “I’ll leave thee with Doll then. Once thee are done, thee are to come on to the Gilberts directly.”
    “Why don’t thee take Doll with thee?”
    “And leave thee unescorted? In this city filled with soldiers! Now that I’ve been blessed with good health again, there will be no more of that!”
    “It isn’t necessary—”
    “Thee must not forget that there are reputations to be defended and discarded in a city occupied by an army. I’ll see thee at the Gilberts.”
    I watched her walk, stiff with resolution, up Fourth Street. My situation, however, was no better than it had been. “Thee don’t have to stay with me, Doll.”
    “I just do what I’m told.”
    “Surely there’s somewhere else thee would rather be.”
    “If I left you here alone, Davy’d have my hide.”
    I might have tried to coax her to change her opinion, but after the navigation of the front gate at Pennington House, I had no hope for success. There was nothing to be done for it then; I started off toward the general’s headquarters, Doll following behind. Once we reached the building I was obliged to tell her the truth. “I have an