Then, too, it had seemed to Dorothy a most marvellous thing to see Aunt Penine so softened and repentant. And this of itself served to increase the homesick longing the very sight of her had brought to the girl,--a craving for the happy days of the dear old home, when a united family gathered under its roof, with no war-clouds darkening their hearts. "I am sure he is the same man I noticed walking after us when we came; and if so, why has he been standing there all this time?" Mary now spoke excitedly, and as though alarmed, glancing now and then over her shoulder at the cause of her fears. "He is probably attending to his own affairs, and giving no thought to ours," Dorothy answered, without looking in the stranger's direction. "If not, what then? It will be daylight for two hours to come, and in five minutes we will be where the man is waiting for us." Mary said nothing more, but ventured to steal a parting glance as they turned the corner of the street; and she was much disconcerted to see the man still appearing to follow them. They soon reached their destination and found the vehicle waiting. A minute more and they were seated, the driver gathered the reins, and his horses set off at a pace bespeaking their impatience to return to their stalls at the Gray Horse Inn. The rain held back until they drew up in front of the entrance. Indeed it seemed as if the storm had waited for the girls to reach shelter, for no sooner were they inside the house than it let go with a sudden burst, doubtless setting in for an "all-nighter," as Johnnie Strings averred when he met them at the door. It was impossible for them to continue their journey on horseback that night, and the landlord refused to send the carriage to Dorchester, by reason of all his horses being needed early the following morning to carry some supplies to the outposts. And so, yielding to the inevitable, Mary and Dorothy decided to pass the night at the inn, letting Johnnie Strings, who cared nothing for the storm, go on and explain matters to Mistress Knollys. The Gray Horse Inn was an old building, whose precise age none could tell. The street whereon it stood was little more than a lane, leading off the main thoroughfare to Boston; and a person outside could easily glance through the lower windows, when these were unshuttered, as no shrubbery veiled them. Inside it was cheery and well-kept, and its rambling style of construction afforded accommodation for a surprising number of guests. Back of the building extended a cornfield, which ended in a tract of woodland, while upon its townward side was a sturdy growth of oak and nut trees, encircling the cornfield, and running quite to the line of the woods beyond. Mistress Trask, the landlady, gave the two girls a small parlor, communicating with a sleeping-room; and here their supper was served.