Mrs. Willing turned from the soldier with whom she had been talking and looked down upon Emmeline. It was evident that her glance rested upon the most precious creature in the world. Her tears had fallen into the satchel that she had packed for Emmeline. It was with an anxious heart that she was sending her away. The soldier had answered her questions kindly, and had advised her to get the sick person away also; but it was impossible to get Bertha away. Then, said the soldier, she should be moved to the cellar as soon as the shooting began. Mrs. Willing, in a voice too low for Emmeline to hear, said something to the soldier, to which he answered, "God help her, lady!" Emmeline's mother was not able to suppress a groan. "O mother," said Emmeline again, "do let me stay here!" For answer, Emmeline's mother led her across the street and helped her to climb into the wagon. "I am in great trouble, Emmeline," said she earnestly, "and this is the way you can help me. Go and take care of Mrs. Schmidt and the baby. Grandfather will bring you back as soon as it is safe. Pray for us all, Emmeline." Awed by her mother's expression, Emmeline tried to gulp down her tears. As the wagon gave a preparatory jerk before getting under way, she lifted the Schmidt baby from Mrs. Schmidt's knee to her own, and was rewarded by a little brightening of her mother's face. Mrs. Schmidt chirruped to her horse, and they were finally off. Few persons except the soldiers noticed them, for each house along the street had its own anxiety. Other horses were being harnessed, other families stood about in fright. Once a group of soldiers rode toward Emmeline and her friends. Their warlike appearance terrified Mrs. Schmidt. [Illustration: "I AM IN GREAT TROUBLE, EMMELINE"] "Now we will be killed at last!" she cried. "We will be nothing of the kind," answered Emmeline. "Please try to drive straight, Mrs. Schmidt." As the soldiers passed, they advised Mrs. Schmidt in a friendly way to tie her children in, at which Mrs. Schmidt at once began to crane her neck backward to count her offspring. The soldiers seemed as gay as if they were on a journey of pleasure. Riding from house to house, they rapped on the doors with their swords; their petted horses sometimes put their noses in at the windows. The soldiers ordered people to stay in their cellars. If only Emmeline could stay in a cellar--an adventure in itself unspeakably delightful. "Ach, Emmy," cried Mrs. Schmidt, "will we ever get to your gran'pop and my brother?" "I hope not," answered Emmeline, at which cryptic remark Mrs. Schmidt sank into silent gloom.