taken
prisoner. Uncle Ferris said it would be a good lesson for a hot-headed
young fellow, and that two or three months in prison would cool his
ardor. But he was taken sick and died before we knew he was really ill.
Then our house burned down. Mother thought it was set on fire. Oh, my
child, such quantities of things as were in it! My mother had never
gone away from the old house because grandmother was a widow. Then the
land was divided, and this smaller house built for mother and us. The
British took possession of the city, and it was said uncle made money
right along. But the English were very good to us, and no one ever
molested us after that. Dear, we used to think it almost a day's journey
to go down to the Bowling Green."

The little girl was listening wide-eyed, and drew a long breath.

"There have been many changes. But somehow we seem to have gone on until
most everybody has forgotten us. You might like to see sister Jane,
though she's quite deaf and hasn't her mind very clear. I don't
know,"--hesitatingly.

"Do you live all alone here?" Mr. Underhill asked.

"Not exactly alone; no. We sold the next-door lot four years ago to some
Germans, very nice people. The mother comes in and helps with our little
work and looks after our garden, and sleeps here at night. The doctor
thought it wasn't safe to be left here alone with sister Jane. It made
it easy for them to pay for the place. It's nearly all gone now. But
there'll be enough to last our time out," she commented with a soft sigh
of self-abnegation.

"And you have no relatives, that is, no one to look after you a bit?"

"Well, you see grandmother made hard feelings with the relatives. She
didn't think the colonies had any right to go to war. And after father's
death mother felt a good deal that way. They dropped us out, and we
never took any pains to hunt them up. We never knew much about the
Underhills. I must say you are very kind to come," and her voice
trembled.

Just then the door opened and Miss Underhill sprang up to take her
sister's arm and lead her to a chair. She was taller and stouter, and
the little girl thought her the oldest-looking person she had ever seen.
Her cap was all awry, her shawl was slipping off of one shoulder, and
she had a sort of dishevelled appearance, as she looked curiously
around.

Lois straightened her up, seated her, and introduced her to the
visitors.

"I'm hungry. I want something to eat, Lois," she exclaimed