April 1776
“Hold still.” Mary stretched cotton fabric across her oldest son’s back and marked the width.
“I don’t need new clothes,” Geordie asserted.
“If only that were true. It wouldn’t be so bad if you didn’t constantly tear your shirts into rags. Could you at least try to keep them intact, so I don’t have to make all new clothing for your brothers?”
Geordie turned to face his mother and put his hands on her shoulders. “I’m sorry, Mame,” he said solemnly. “But I have to prove Jacob has a brother who can defend him.”
Mary furrowed her brows. “Is there something I should know?”
“No.” Geordie shook his head. “I have everything under control. May I go, Mame? I promised to meet some other boys for a game of rounders. I’m the bowler.”
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