"I want to go home!" sobbed Grandmother Willing, much as Emmeline had sobbed. "They might get out as far as our house, and they might do damage." "The fighting is three miles from our house, mother." When they reached their daughter's farm, Sally came running to meet them. "Oh, I have been so worried about you! Get down, mother. Come in. Oh, this dreadful noise! Look, father!" Old Mr. Willing's eyes followed her pointing finger. On the main road, a few rods from the farmhouse, thousands of soldiers were marching rapidly toward Gettysburg. Their line extended back for at least a mile. From the porch and windows of the farmhouse terrified faces watched them. Grandmother Willing wept again. "Perhaps our dear Henry is among them!" "Henry, mother! Why, these are the rebels!" "Oh, dear, Oh, dear!" wailed Grandmother Willing. "What shall we do?" "We will do two things, mother," answered Grandfather Willing solemnly. "We will wait and we will pray." A hill shut out from the farmhouse a view of the first day's battlefield. When Grandfather Willing and his son-in-law proposed to make their way to higher ground, such a loud outcry rose from the women and children that they abandoned the plan. Gathering the family about him, Grandfather Willing prayed that the engagement might be short and victorious for the arms of righteousness. When toward evening the noise of battle ceased, grandfather hoped that his prayers had been answered. On Wednesday morning Grandmother Willing rose early from her bed. Toward the southwest she could see the Round Tops; before her the plain was clear and beautiful. Her heart rejoiced. "Look, father, now we can go home!" Grandfather Willing came to the window and looked out. He saw the clear, beautiful plain, but he saw also another and a startling sight. From the west approached fresh troops. The main road, where it left the woodland, was crowded. Rapidly the throng drew near; officers shouted, drivers urged their horses, wagons rattled. "Is there going to be _more_?" asked Grandmother Willing. All morning the family in the farmhouse watched the road and the distant plain. The troops vanished from sight as they approached Gettysburg. When by noon there had been no further sound of shooting, Grandmother Willing suggested that they start. "We can surely go now, father!" Just then a boy came from a farm a mile across the fields with news that made Grandmother Willing change her mind. There had been yesterday, he said, a terrible battle; Gettysburg was now in the possession of the Confederates. Troops were gathering from all directions; there was going to be worse fighting before the day was over.