is arms, brought him into the house, and laid him down
before the fire, where he had slept so peacefully only one short hour
before. Nimrod licked his hand, and rapped his tail feebly on the
hearthstone. Nancy wept over him, while Dan bathed his wounded head,
and tried to find out if any bones were broken.

"Poor Nimrod," said the Goodwife, as she set a bowl of milk before the
wounded dog, "thou art a brave soldier. Drink this and soon thou wilt
be wagging thy tail as briskly as ever."

She stirred the fire and lit the candles, and when the Goodman came in
a few moments later, the little family looked about their new home to
see what damage had been done. Nancy's little feast was a sad wreck.
There were the pies, to be sure, but the table-cloth was awry and the
flowers were tipped over and strewn about the floor, which was
covered with the tracks of muddy feet. In the scuffle with Zeb the
spinning-wheel had been overturned and the settle was lying on its
back on the floor. The room looked as if a hurricane had passed
through it. The Goodman mourned the loss of his gun, and the Goodwife
grieved for her tankard, but all smaller losses were forgotten in
their distress about Zeb. Not only had he cost the Goodman a large sum
of money, but in the weeks he had been with them he had found his own
place in the household, where he would be sadly missed. Worst of all
was their anxiety about his fate at the hands of the Indians.

"Come," said the Goodwife at last, when they had heard every event of
the day twice over, "we must eat, or we shall have scant courage for
the duties of the morrow. We have none of us tasted food since noon."

The clams were still simmering gently in the pot, and she gave them
each a porringer of broth, which they ate sitting in a circle about
the hearth-stone. Then she put the room in order, and though her heart
was heavy, tried to talk of the events of their day in Boston as if
nothing had happened.

[Illustration]

"We saw Captain Sanders in town," she said to the children. "He hath
brought the Lucy Ann to port with a load of cod for the market and
with fish and game for Thanksgiving. I have his promise that he will
dine with us if God wills. He hath not yet seen our new house. Alas! I
shall have no tankard to set before him; yet, ungrateful that I am,
we are still rich in blessings! 'T is well we have a day set aside to
remind us of them."

It was very late when at last the excitement had died