“It means, madam,” replied the sergeant courteously but firmly, “that this boy knows the whereabouts of Rhett Bannister, whom we have orders to arrest, and will not disclose them. We are taking him to the provost-marshal.” “What for?” “To compel him to tell where his father is, or punish him for his disobedience.” “Oh, nonsense! The boy isn’t to blame. You’d do the same thing yourself in his place. Besides there isn’t a more patriotic citizen in Mount Hermon township than this very boy. I know what I’m talking about.” The sergeant doffed his cap. “I believe you are more than half right, madam,” he said. “I myself am inclined to think that he may do us more good right here at his home, as a somewhat remarkable illustration of patriotism under difficulties, than he would lying in a guard-house living on bread and water.” “Of course he will! Mind you, I’ve no excuses for his fool father. That man’s making the mistake of his life. But this boy is all right. Say, have you had breakfast, any of you?” “My men and I have not, and I do not think young Bannister has. We will stop at the Bennett House in the village long enough for breakfast.” “Oh, nonsense! The Bennett House! You come right up here to the Sarah Jane Stark house, and I’ll give you a better breakfast than you’ll get at all the Bennett Houses in the country, and it won’t cost you a penny either.” She turned up the path as she spoke, and, after a moment of hesitation, the rest of the party followed her. The delay, however, gave the officer an opportunity to make a whispered inquiry of Bob concerning her, and, being thus assured of her integrity and loyalty, he no longer hesitated to lead his little party to her house. “Now, you go right into the kitchen,” she said, “all of you, and wash your hands, and by the time you’ve done that, breakfast’ll be ready.” And Sarah Jane Stark was as good as her word, and her breakfast was as good as her promises. The pleasant sight of it, and the fragrant odor of it, as they entered the dining-room, was something long to be remembered. When they were all seated she turned abruptly to the sergeant. “What’s your name?” she asked. “Anderson,” he replied, “Stanley B. Anderson.” “Well, Sergeant Anderson, you ask a blessing.” The young fellow flushed to the tips of his ears. “I have never done such a thing,” he said. “I beg you will excuse me. At my home my mother always says grace. Will you not say it here?” “Very well, I will. And I want you all to say ‘amen,’ every one of you.” So they bowed their heads, and Sarah Jane Stark said:-- “O Lord, make us thankful for this food; confound the enemies of our country, and give us charity in our hearts for all men.” And every one at the table responded heartily, “Amen!”