"Be not so hasty, stranger," she muttered, as she withdrew the bar;
"learn to wait for your betters."

The door swung back, and into the dim light of the bare room stepped a
tall man in Continental dress. His hat was in his hand, and he bowed
before Janie as if she were a queen. Andy drew back. No such stranger
had ever visited them before, and the boy gazed fascinated.

"Pardon me, my good woman," the rich voice said; "much as I dislike
disturbing you, I fear I must crave a few hours' rest and lodging, and
the service of one to row me across the river ere break of day. I have
been told that you have a son."

Andy quivered.

"A lodging, sir, is yours and welcome," Janie replied, motioning the
stranger toward a chair and closing the door after him. "I ever keep a
bed in readiness these troubled times. We are loyal to the cause, and I
would serve where I may. I have a son, sir, as you have heard, but,
alas! not one who can be of service. He is a cripple. However, rest; you
look sadly in need of it. I will hasten to a neighbor's a mile away, and
seek the service you desire."

"I regret to cause such trouble, but the need is urgent. I sympathize
with you in your son's affliction. It must be a sore grief to the lad to
sit apart these stirring times when young blood runs hot, and the
country calls so loudly."

Soon Janie was setting food before the stranger--good brown bread and