and yet he knew
that he could not begin to live again until the new complications had
been grappled with and readjusted.

After dark of the same day upon which Andy had seen Washington, he
reached his mother's little house. Hans and he had had several
encounters with the British, but a thickheaded, deaf Dutchman, and a
young, frightened lame girl, with a hideous bonnet, served only for a
moment's idle sport for the king's gallant men. And after annoying
delays they were allowed to pass with a warning to come soon with more
food, or their houses would be burned over their heads.

Andy paused outside the cottage. He heard his mother moving about, and
the indistinct voice of a man from the guest-room beyond.

"The vine again!" thought Andy. But the ascent in the gown was
difficult. "A maid's progress is bitter hard!" smiled he, and he thought
tenderly of Ruth.

The little loft-room seemed oddly changed to Andy. He looked about.
Everything was the same, and yet--

"It is that voice below-stairs," muttered he. "It alters everything." A
feeling of hatred crept in Andy's heart against this man who had
suddenly assumed so close a relationship to him.

"What will mother do?" he questioned as he changed his clothing, and put
on the decent Sunday-suit that was hanging from the pegs. "What will
she do?" And in his heart Andy knew what she would do, what, at least,
she would want to do. He had seen it shining back of the trouble in her
eyes when she first spoke to him. The want had brought the look of
beauty with it, and had banished the marks of the lonely years.

"But a Britisher!" moaned the boy, smoothing his hair, "a Britisher for
Janie and Andy McNeal! I might forgive him for all else--for mother's
sake, but not that, not that!"

"Andy, lad, is it you?" Andy started. His mother was coming up the
stairs!

"Yes, mother." She stood before him now. The coarse cotton gown that was
familiar to Andy's boyhood was gone. A dull, bluish linen with white
cuffs and collar had replaced it, and above the becoming dress shone the
face of a new Janie.

A jealous pang struck Andy's heart, and he shivered in spite of himself.

"I thought I heard you, lad. You are safe?"

"Quite safe, mother."

"But sair tired?" she dropped into the Scotch unconsciously.

"Not overtired. I did my errand well."

"And now, Andy, what next?"

"Nothing. Since I cannot follow and fight, I must bide at home and wait.
Does any one come here for hel