Emmeline did not answer. Could she bake? She had been taught here in this very kitchen, she had mixed her dough in that very bowl on the table, and had set her rising in that old-fashioned bread trough in the pantry. Would she bake? Never while breath was in her body! Men were now crowding in at the door; an army wagon had stopped at the gate, and rough soldiers were bringing in great coffee-pots and cans. One of them brought Grandmother Willing's hens and roosters, headless, plucked, ready for the pot. Emmeline backed farther and farther into the corner, speechless and tearful. "If I were you, I'd go upstairs, sissy," the tall man said. "Set at the window and look out. There'll be a lot going on that you can see." Blindly Emmeline turned to obey. Crying bitterly, she climbed to her own little room, and there sat down on a chair by the window. Where were those thousands of blue-coated soldiers? Why did they permit this great army to camp on these hills, to occupy her grandfather's house, and his fields, and the other fields round about? The enemy were now chopping down trees and tearing down fences; they had already ruined her grandfather's wheat and killed her grandmother's chickens. Why did not the blue-coated soldiers come and drive them away? At the sound of galloping hoofs, Emmeline looked out of the window. She saw that a man on horseback had stopped at the gate and was talking with the tall soldier. His voice rose exultantly:-- "We drove 'em like sheep through the town! We have thousands of prisoners! To-morrow we'll settle them!" "There's a leetle gal here," the tall soldier answered in his slow way. "She came to see her gran'paw, but he had gone. She lives in Gettysburg." "She'll be safer here than in Gettysburg. Tell her to stay indoors. There'll be hotter work to-morrow." "So they say!" drawled the tall soldier. Presently the aroma of chickens boiling in the pot began to spread through the house. It seemed to spread to an amazing distance, for from all directions men came crowding into Grandmother Willing's kitchen. The surly cook swore at them and at the stove, whereupon a drawling voice reminded him that there was "a leetle gal" within hearing. The cook's tones sank to a rumble. But Emmeline paid no heed to the loud voices of the hungry men; she did not even smell the delicious odor of the cooking chickens. She heard only those dreadful, exultant words from the lips of the mounted soldier:-- "'We drove 'em like sheep through the town! We have thousands of prisoners! To-morrow we'll settle them!'" So that was why no Northern troops had come to her rescue and the rescue of her grandfather's house! Emmeline ceased to cry; alarm and terror dried her tears. She thought of her mother and of Bertha. She recalled the deep earnestness of her mother's eyes.