Hardly had he spoken before they were all three hurrying towards the mansion. When at last they stood under the portico, George seized the quaint brass knocker of the front door, and gave it a brisk rap. After some delay a very fat negress opened the door, and eyed the strangers rather suspiciously. Their tramp over the country had not improved their appearance, and her supercilious, inquisitive look was not strange, under the circumstances. "What you folks want?" she asked, putting her big arms akimbo in an uncompromising attitude. Watson was about to reply when an attractive voice, with the soft accent so characteristic of the Southerners, called: "What is it, Ethiopia? Any one to see me?" The next instant a kindly-faced gentlewoman of about fifty stood in the doorway. "Is there anything I can do for you?" she asked pleasantly. Macgreggor proceeded to tell the customary story about their being on their way from Kentucky to join the Confederate army further south. His heart smote him as he did so, for she was so gentle and sympathetic in her manner that he loathed to practice any deception, however necessary; but there was no help for it. So he ended by asking for something to eat. "Come in," said the mistress of the mansion, for such she proved to be, "and take any poor hospitality I can offer you. My husband, Mr. Page, and both my children are away, fighting under General Lee, and I am only too glad to do anything I can for others who are helping the great cause." She smiled sweetly at George, and patted his dog. The boy regarded her almost sheepishly; he, too, hated the idea of imposing on so cordial a hostess. Mrs. Page led the party into a great colonial hallway, embellished with family portraits. "By-the-way," she added, "there is a Confederate officer in the house now--Major Lightfoot, of the --th Virginia Regiment. He reached here this morning from Richmond and goes to Chattanooga this afternoon on a special mission." Watson bit his lip. "We're coming to too close quarters with the enemy," he thought, and he felt like retreating from the mansion with his companions. But it was too late. Such a move would only excite suspicion, or, worse still, lead to pursuit. "We must face the thing through," he muttered, "and trust to our wits." Mrs. Page ushered the strangers, including the delighted Waggie, into a large, handsomely paneled dining-room on the left of the hallway. She made them gather around an unset table. "Sit here for a few minutes," she said, "and the servants will bring you the best that Page Manor can offer you. In the meantime, I'll send Major Lightfoot to see you. He may be able to help you in some way." She closed the door and was gone. "I wish this Major Lightfoot, whoever he is, was in Patagonia at the present moment," whispered Watson. "It's easy enough to deceive the Southern country bumpkins, and make them think you are Confederates, but when you get among people with more intelligence, like officers----"