"Children, have you planned to do anything this morning?" asked Mrs. Davis, at breakfast the following morning after their arrival.

"What did you expect to do?" countered George.

"Oh, nothing much, but it looks so much like rain, and the Scotch mist is so heavy and cold, I thought you children could play upstairs this morning while aunty and I do some shopping downtown. We will be home for lunch and take you to a matinee if you will be good," promised Mrs. Davis.

"Cross your heart?" demanded Jack, for matinees were rare treats, as Mrs. Davis thought children were better off at wholesome play in the fresh air, than sitting in a crowded theatre watching make-believe scenes on the stage.

"Yes, I'll take you to Barnum's Circus, showing this week in Philadelphia."

"Oh, goody! goody! We'll be good, all right!" cried George.

"Indeed we will. If it clears off some we might play basket-ball out in the backyard, that's all," promised Anne.

So the ladies started downtown with assurances that the four cousins would be models of virtue and good behavior until noon when they would look for their reward.

Soon after they left, the mist lifted and the air grew warmer and pleasant.

"It's kind of stuffy in the house, isn't it?" said Jack, after a heated bout with George, where both wore boxing gloves, and the girls were umpires.

"Yes, let's go out and cool off," agreed George, mopping his face.

"We can play out in the backyard, you know," suggested Anne.

"I'm so warm I don't want to play ball, but let's go out anyway," said George.

So the four ran downstairs and out of the rear hall-door to the piazza that had steps leading down to the square of grass that was used for drying clothes. Back of this plot was a small garden that was cultivated in the summer, but was now chiefly used for a basket-ball ground.

The wash was out, so the grass-plot was impossible for the children, and they skirted the laundry and reached the barren garden.

"What's on the other side of your high fence?" asked George, eyeing the six-foot boards that had nice cross-pieces at convenient distance from the ground to the top.

"Nothing, only a big vacant lot. Father says the owners have had trouble over the title to it for so many years, that now they couldn't improve it even if they had the money left to do it on," said Jack.

"And every kind of youngster from down in those tenements comes up in that lot to play," added Anne, with disgust.

Voices were now heard on the other side of the fence and George looked at his companions.

"Guess I'll climb up and sit on top and watch 'em."

"So'll I! That won't do any harm, I guess," said Jack.

Anne and Martha watched their brothers climb up, and then following, they all sat on the smooth round top of the fence.

Some boys from the tenements were about to have a game of baseball. At first, they failed to see the four spectators sitting on the fence. When they did, however, their remarks were not flattering.

"Ha! See the sports up on the bleachers!" cried one.

"Come down and we'll show you how we bat!" called another, and at this his friends all jeered.

Jack wrinkled his nose and stuck his tongue in his cheek, making a wry face at the last speaker.

That led to more remarks from the diamond, and more faces from all four perched on the fence; finally, at a taunting sneer from one of the team on the diamond, Jack replied angrily.

Over at one side of this large vacant area was a depression that generally held muddy water from past rain storms. It seldom filtered into the earth, and the sun not reaching that side of the property, failed to dry it up. Hence, the younger children from the tenements played in this large puddle, sailing boats, or throwing stones to watch the splash.

As Jack retorted, one of the boys standing near the puddle, stooped and flung a handful of dripping mud at the fence. It struck low, but George instantly shouted:

"Don't you do that again! It's against the law to throw things in city limits!"

"Ha! Lot you know about law! Why, sissy, we're a law by ourselves!" laughed one of the boys, going over to pick up a handful of the ooze.

The rest of the gang instantly followed their leader, and before the four on the fence could imagine what would follow, the air was filled with flying mud-balls. Some struck the fence, some flew over and spattered the clean white clothes, and some struck the four defiant citizens on the fence, although they ducked and dodged many of the missiles.

"Shall we jump down and let them laugh at us?" asked Jack.

"Don't you dare! Even if you do I won't!" cried Anne, too furious to wonder what might be the result of this fracas.

"I should say double no! For a dare, I'd jump over and fight them!" declared George.

"Wish we had our air-rifles!" said Jack.

"Are they fighters? Do they play fair?" asked George.

"Fight! Like tigers, but they don't know what fairness means. The whole mob'd just as soon light on you if you went over as they would throw these mud-balls," sneered Jack.

"Let's all four attack them!" ventured Martha, who was as daring as George.

"There are six of them—besides the mob that will run the minute they sniff a fight!" warned Jack.

"I've got it! Let's jump down, run alongside the house by the areaway, and get out on the street. We can run around the corner and get to the empty lot from the street, then they will be taken by surprise and can't run away," suggested Anne.

"I wish to goodness we had two other friends," sighed Jack, as the four dropped from the fence to the wild jeering of the six boys on the other side.

"Oh, Jack! Maybe Bob and Dick are home by this time. You know, when we went away, they were expected back from the country that Saturday," said Anne significantly.

As the children ran across the garden they beheld with dismay that the lovely white clothes on the lines were now all bespattered with mud. This made them determined to mete out judgment.

"Coo-ooh! Bo-ob!" shouted Jack, as he stood under the neighboring dining-room window.

"Come ahead out, Dick!" yelled Anne, making a megaphone of her hands.

Two heads appeared at the side window almost immediately.

"When did you get home?" called Bob, raising the sash.

"Never mind that! Hurry out—Dick and you! Big fight on," said Jack hurriedly, running to the street.

Bob and Dick needed no further incentives, but were soon with the other four children on the sidewalk.

"Where?" was all they said.

"Empty lot back of our house. Those boys dirtied all of Bridget's clean clothes and pelted us with mud too, besides insulting and doing lots of things to us!" said Jack, while the six comrades, friends on the spot without introductions to the two southern cousins, ran around the corner of the street.

When they reached the vacant lot, however, they hid back of the stone steps belonging to the adjoining house, and peeped about the corner to see what chances they had for a victory.

To their delight they found that the two larger boys had been called away for some reason, and only four boys of their own size were left playing ball in a half-hearted way.

"Agh! dem sissies ain't fighters! I t'ought sure dey would come ober de fence and pitch in!" said one of the ball-players to his companions.

"Yeh! So'd I. Ef Bill and Huck stayed here, we coul' have chased 'em over into their own yard and licked 'em!" said another.

At this information, George exchanged glances with Jack.

"Shall we warn them, or just fall in?" asked he.

"Did Washington send a polite letter to Howe or any of the British, when he started a fight?" was all Jack replied.

"Here you, Bob—you tackle that red-headed fellow. Dick—you take care of the fat one. Jack can fight the thin one and I'll take charge of that freckled scrawny one—I can fight better than any of you, I guess!" planned George hurriedly.

"Here! here, what about us two girls! Can't we help?" cried Martha, with deep grief at the turn events appeared to be taking.

"Sure! You watch and warn us, and if the other two fellows come back, you blow this whistle for help!" advised Jack, handing his newly-acquired police-whistle to Anne.

Before the four ball players could well understand who was rushing, or what the four boys were about, each one of the Washington forces had picked his man and was already busy on the offensive.

In a few moments, the ball players, termed by George the low-down Hessians, recognized the two boys from the fence-top and with a yell of fury, pitched in to fight with all their strength.

George bawled out orders for his companions to follow, and at every fresh attack upon the Hessians, the four Americans whooped and fell to with renewed lust of battle.

Martha and Anne were deeply interested in hoping and watching for the Hessians—those cruel heartless fellows, who had injured and destroyed the lives and properties of the American citizens at Brunswick, Princeton, and other Jersey towns. It served them good and right to have Washington's men flay the breath out of them.

But the Hessians were almost spent and ready to give up when Cornwallis, in the form of two pals from the tenements, came along and seeing the battle, added reinforcements to their almost vanquished army.

Now Washington was desperate. He and his men were out-numbered by the arrival of the new forces, who were fresh and somewhat larger than the rest of the Hessians, and this meant watchful and wary war.

But they had not counted on Anne and Martha. The moment the two reinforcements from the Hessians arrived, Martha cried:

"Come on, Anne! Let's throw mud at them!"

Mud-balls flew thick and fast for a time, and every one—Americans as well as Hessians—was blinded, choked, or spattered before Anne remembered the whistle! Neither Jack nor she knew what would happen if it were used. They had heard, however, that in times of dire need help would come upon the blowing of a whistle.

The whistle did bring help. But Anne wished she had not used it when she saw a strange officer run across the street, and rush into the mob of boys where nothing but flying fists could be seen. The Hessians were accustomed to being routed by the police, and instantly took to their heels, leaving the battle-field to the American forces.

The officer thought the four remaining boys were also from the tenement district, as their clothes were torn and spattered with mud. He mustered them in a group, and was about to march them off to the station-house, when the fat laundress from the Davises' house mounted a ladder she had placed against the fence, determined to investigate the cause of the mud which she had found all over her clean laundry.

The policeman was a friend of Bridget's, and she berated the "durty varmints," who ruined her week's washing. She shook two great fists at the four boys, but not until the two girls had explained, would they believe that the boys had been erstwhile clean, decent citizens fighting under Washington's command.

So the battle with the Hessians ended, and the American troops had to retreat to their "fastnesses in the Jersey Hills."

As the six warriors and the policeman walked up the street where the houses of the children stood, a taxicab pulled up alongside the curb and stopped before the Davises' house. Two ladies alighted, and one of them paid the chauffeur. As they turned to go up the steps of the house, the vanquished army met them.

"Well, mother, that was a great battle, and I'm sure those Hessians will know better than to attack defenceless people again," bragged George, trying to see from a swollen eye.

"Not defenceless—but 'on-the-fence' Americans," corrected Jack, tittering.

"Oh, oh! Are these our children?" wailed Mrs. Davis, backing away from the muddy, tattered group.

"They says they are—and Miss Bridget—she oughter know when she sees 'em. She says dey are belongin' here, all right!" said the officer, grinning at their plight.

"Where did you find them, officer?" asked Mrs. Davis.

"Yander, on the nex' block! They were fighting with a lot of ruffians," said the officer, lifting his hat and preparing to leave.

"Oh, thank you so much for taking care of them! And do buy some candy for your children at home, officer!" said Mrs. Davis, handing the man a dollar.

The children then proudly related the "Battle of the Hessians." The mothers, however, were not impressed, and soundly reproved them for their failure to keep the promise of good behavior.

As they left the dining-room after lunch, Mrs. Parke remarked: "We secured tickets for the circus, but I don't see why we should take you performers when you manage to have all the circus you want without troubling us."

"What do you suppose we hurried and bathed and combed our hair and dressed up for, if not for the circus this afternoon?" complained Jack, thinking of all the wasted moments used to make his neck clean, and to brush down his unruly cow-licks.

"Surely you didn't expect to come into this dining-room covered with mud and rags, did you?" cried Mrs. Davis, aghast.

"Not exactly, but we didn't have to waste so much soap and hot water, if we thought you were going to turn traitor. I'm not surprised Washington had such a hard time in that war, when even his own relations went back on him—after he fought for the honor of his people the way he did!" grumbled George.

"I'd just as soon be born a descendant of Howe as to have folks misunderstand your Americanism!" added Jack.

But this was too much for the mothers, who were Daughters of the Revolution, and although the connection between Washington at Princeton fighting the Hessians seemed to have nothing in common with the boys of the tenement alleys, they felt the spirit of patriotism that had moved their army to enter the defence of the place.

So, in spite of the dire need of punishment for four fighting Americans, they were treated to the circus instead. And the event of the battle in the morning was quite erased from their minds when they came forth from that wonderful place, having feasted their eyes on animals, tricks, clowns too funny to describe, trapeze actors, acrobats, and too many things to remember all at once.