"

"Give me pardon, my dear," spoke Nurse Johnson contritely. "'Tis small
wonder that you wish not to hear of battles after the experience of
the day. I make no doubt but that all of us will be glad when we are
within the sheltering walls of a house. Are we almost there, son?"

"Yes, mother. 'Tis just beyond the village a short distance, though I
know not in which direction the farm lies. I will have to inquire at
the tavern."

The amber light of dusk was tipping the trees when the youth turned
from the highway into the wooded road leading to his uncle's dwelling.
The farmhouse was gray and weather-beaten, set in a circle of cleared
land, and ringed by the forest. There was something about the
well-sweep, the orchard, the gardens, that spoke of neglect and
desolation, and Peggy felt a chill go through her as she noted no stir
of life about the place. From the open doors of the barn came no
movement of restless horse, or low of cattle. Not a twitter nor cheep
from the hen-house broke the quiet that brooded over everything.
Though it was still early twilight the wooden shutters were tightly
closed, and had it not been for the light which streamed through their
crescentic openings the house would have been deemed deserted. The
girl started nervously as a night-owl hooted suddenly from a near-by
thicket.

"I wonder if they are at home?" she mused aloud.

"Why, of course they are, Peggy," answered Sally. "Does thee not see
the light?"

"Yes; but----" began Peggy, and paused expectantly as Fairfax, who had
alighted, knocked loudly upon the door.

It was a full moment before a reply came; then a man's voice demanded
sharply:

"What's wanted?"

"'Tis your nephew, Uncle Tom," answered the lad cheerily.

"Nephew, heigh? I haven't any in this part of the country. You can't
put in a take-off like that on Tom Ashley. Clear out! My firelock's
ready."

"Well, this is a fine welcome, I must say," cried Nurse Johnson
indignantly. "Write for us to come all the way from Virginia to visit
you, and then find a firelock ready for us. I don't think much of such
doings, Tom Ashley!"

"Why a pox on me!" came in excited accents from behind the closed
door. "Didst hear that, Mary? That's Hannah Johnson's voice as sure as
preaching. It must be Hannah and her boy."

There followed the rattle of a chain, the drawing of bolts, then the
door was flung wide, and the light from a blazing fire in the
fireplace threw into strong relief