"Well," said the spy, standing and smiling foolishly, and bending playfully in the shoulders, "well, Mrs. Richlin',"--he gave his hand a limp wave abroad and smirked,--"'In Dixie's land you take yo' stand.' This is it. You're in it!--Mrs. Richlin', my sister; sister, Mrs. Richlin'." "Pleased to know ye," said the woman, without the faintest ray of emotion. "Take a seat and sit down." She produced a chair bottomed with raw-hide. "Thank you," was all Mary could think of to reply as she accepted the seat, and "Thank you" again when the woman brought a glass of water. The spy laid Alice on a bed in sight of Mary in another chamber. He came back on tiptoe. "Now, the next thing is to git you furder south. Wust of it is that, seein' as you got sich a weakness fur tellin' the truth, we'll jess have to sort o' slide you along fum one Union man to another; sort o' hole fass what I give ye, as you used to say yourself, I reckon. But you've got one strong holt." His eye went to his sister's, and he started away without a word, and was presently heard making a fire, while the woman went about spreading a small table with cold meats and corn-bread, milk and butter. Her brother came back once more. "Yes," he said to Mary, "you've got one mighty good card, and that's it in yonder on the bed. 'Humph!' folks'll say; 'didn't come fur with that there baby, sho!'" "I wouldn't go far without her," said Mary, brightly. "_I_ say," responded the hostess, with her back turned, and said no more. "Sister," said the spy, "we'll want the buggy." "All right," responded the sister. "I'll go feed the hosses," said he, and went out. In a few minutes he returned. "Joe must give 'em a good rubbin' when he comes, sister," he said. "All right," replied the woman, and then turning to Mary, "Come." "What, ma'm?" "Eat." She touched the back of a chair. "Sam, bring the baby." She stood and waited on the table. Mary was still eating, when suddenly she rose up, saying:-- "Why, where is Mr. ----, your brother?" "He's gone to take a sleep outside," said his sister. "It's too resky for him to sleep in a house." She faintly smiled, for the first time, at the end of this long speech. "But," said Mary, "oh, I haven't uttered a word of thanks. What will he think of me?" She sank into her chair again with an elbow on the table, and looked up at the tall standing figure on the other side, with a little laugh of mortification.