This time her aim was better, and the tongs snicked sharply together with the tip of his queue between them, with the result that, as he pushed on and Susan held fast, his head was sharply jerked, and his gilt-laced hat fell off at her feet. With a leisurely closing of the nippers, Susan picked it up and put it on the table. “You can have it again when you go,” she said soothingly, as if speaking to a fretful child. “And will you ask your man there to go round to the other door? As you have just found, young sir, this door’s scarcely wide enough for two, when I am one of them, and he is stouter than you.” For a moment, red and angry, the young fellow glared upon her fiercely; but she met his look with one so steady, placid, and grandmotherly, yet with a glimmer of humor in it, too, that his wrath suddenly vanished in a burst of boyish laughter. He signed to the soldier to go round to the back door, as the others had already done, and held out his hand for Susan’s lazy-tongs, which he played with curiously, snapping and nipping with them at the air, while he directed the elaborate search of the lower rooms. Then they all went upstairs together, and heavy feet were heard clumping through the bedrooms for a long time. At last the stairs creaked, and they descended. “Did your soldiers handle my linen?” asked Susan eagerly, with a face of deep, housewifely anxiety. “I suppose they have tumbled the whole chestful out in a heap.” “No, indeed--we’ve scarcely shaken out the lavender,” the lieutenant answered, smiling pleasantly; adding, with a glance of mock terror at the tongs, “May I have my hat?” “Let your sergeant go to the pantry first, if you please. I can’t wait on you myself, but there are doughnuts and a jug of sweet cider on the shelf, at your service,” she replied hospitably, and as it was the last house of the village, and they had no further searching to do, they accepted the modest treat gratefully, and the four soldiers gathered, munching and sipping, around the kitchen fire in most friendly fashion. No shadow of suspicion remained, but the mischievous young commander lifted his mug, and saying, “This is for the pull you gave my hair, Mrs. Thurrell, and no punishment at that if you were a properly loyal subject,” he drank to the king’s health. “Pour out a mug for me, too, sergeant,” demanded Susan, with sparkling eyes; but as the man tipped the pitcher to obey, his officer stopped him. “No, no!” he cried, laughing and waving it aside. “She will drink to General Washington!” “Yes, that she would, young sir!” said Susan Tongs. * * * * * Next day, with his precious despatches rescued from the woodbox and his ankle much better, Othniel escaped in a patriotic neighbor’s load of hay. After the war ended he married Tamsey, with no opposition from Susan, whose temper softened with time, and who, ever after having saved him, lavished upon him an affection as great as her former dislike.