Sophia's War by Avi Page B

father.”
    Though completely surprised by his suggestion, I was gratified. If Father gave his approval, it would mean more money for our household. “I’ll tell my father what you’ve proposed,” I said, bobbing a curtsy.
    â€œDo so soon,” he said, and turned back to his work at the type cases.
    I headed for home. The notion of being employed in such a fashion had never entered my head. But, as Mr. Gaine said, these were unusual times. I recalled, too, my mother telling me our need was such that I might have to take work as a house servant in a Britishofficer’s home. To me, an inky printer’s shop would be preferable.
    I glanced at the papers Mr. Gaine had given me. I could read them perfectly well and knew how my father would make them compact, ready for the press. Even if Father were not well enough to work on them, I could. As for the other employment promised in his shop, I was not sure what the tasks would be, but I’d not be shy. Learning a trade had to be useful for me. But mostly, if there was more money for us, there would be more money to help free William.

16
    THE NEARER I came to home, the more disordered my feelings. Was it excitement or distress? Excitement to have seen William alive. Agony at his condition. Misery, too, that John André might be at home. Though I was certain I could rely upon his promise that he would make no problems for my family regarding William, I had no desire to see him.
    Fortunately, when I stepped into the house, he was absent and I was able to rush to the back room. My father was abed, my mother in a chair beside him.
    â€œI saw William!” I cried, and revealed all I had discovered.
    But—not one word about John André.
    The news that William was alive made it easier for my parents to hear the awful things about his condition.
    â€œI suppose he must have been at Fort Washington,” said Father.
    â€œBut what will happen to him now?” Mother said, as much to herself as to us.
    For a moment no one spoke. Then Father said,“Perhaps we could ask Lieutenant André for assistance when he gets home.”
    Mother said, “But he knows nothing about William.”
    That’s when I forced myself to say, “He does know.”
    â€œHow?” my father demanded.
    Reluctantly, I told them what had happened when I saw William on the street. At first their response was to say nothing but to look intently at me, so that I hardly knew what to make of their thoughts. Was it censure or sympathy?
    But all Father said was, “Perhaps the lieutenant’s knowledge is for the best. Did he truly say he’d act as if you had not spoken?”
    I nodded.
    Mother turned to Father. “Then perhaps you should ask his assistance,” she said. “He has been a guest in our house.”
    I thought, Not really a guest .
    â€œI will,” said Father. “As a gentleman, he can hardly refuse.”
    â€œAt the least,” said Mother, “he can find a way for us to visit William.”
    I, however, remembered what John André had told me, that William—along with all rebels—should be hung. Too frightened to quote his words, I only said, “There are soldiers all around the college.”
    â€œHopefully one can pass a coin to a guard to gain admittance,” said Father. “It’s common practice.”
    Mother, more bluntly, said, “Do we have the money for a bribe?”
    Her words were the perfect prompt for me to say, “There is some good news. I found Mr. Gaine at his shop.”
    â€œExcellent,” said Father. “What did he say? Is there any work?”
    I held up the papers. “He wants you to take these advertisements and reduce them. The usual rates, he said to tell you.”
    When Father put out his good hand, I gave him the papers. After a quick perusal, he said to me, “With your help, we’ll do them easily.”
    Then—with