st the glass one side and said, "Now, my boy, we're going
to get that American spy and hang him. You know where he is and you've
got to tell us, or it will be the worse for you. Do you want to see
your mother again?"

Arthur did not answer. He could not have answered just then. A big
bunch came into his throat. Cry? Not before these men. So he kept
silence.

"Obstinate little pig! speak!" thundered the officer, bringing his
great brawny fist down upon the table with a blow that set the glasses
dancing. "Will you tell me where that spy is?"

"No, sir," came in very low, but very firm tones. I will not tell
you the dreadful words of that officer, as he turned to his servant
with the command, "Put him down cellar, and we'll see to him in the
morning. They're all alike, men, women and children. Rebellion in the
very blood. The only way to finish it is to spill it without mercy."

Now there was one thing that Arthur, brave as he was, feared, and that
was--rats! Left on a heap of dry straw, he began to wonder if there
were rats there. Presently he was sure he heard something move, but
he was quickly reassured by the touch of soft, warm fur on his hand,
and the sound of a melodious "pur-r." The friendly kitty, glad of a
companion, curled herself by his side. What comfort she brought to
the lonely little fellow! He lay down beside her, and saying his _Our
Father_, and _Now I Lay Me_, was soon in a profound sleep, the purring
little kitty nestling close.

The sounds of revelry in the rooms above did not disturb him. The
boisterous songs and laughter, the stamping of many feet, continued
far into the night. At last they ceased; and when everything had been
for a long time silent, the door leading to the cellar was softly
opened and a lady came down the stairway. I have often wished that
I might paint her as she looked coming down those stairs. Arthur was
afterwards my great-grandfather, you know, and he told me this story
when I was a young girl in my teens. He told me how lovely this lady
was.

Her gown was of some rich stuff that shimmered in the light of the
candle she carried, and rustled musically as she walked. There was
a flash of jewels at her throat and on her hands. She had wrapped a
crimson mantle about her head and shoulders. Her eyes were like stars
on a summer's night, sparkling with a veiled radiance, and as she
stood and looked down upon the sleeping boy, a smile, sweet, but full
of a profound sadness, pla