"You're crazy," said some one. "Cannon on such a night as this! But, hearkee!" Three distinct reports sounded in quick succession. "That's no thunder," said the landlord. "The signal guns!" exclaimed Lieutenant Hamilton. Again the door was forced open, and, accompanied by a blast of wind and rain, a soldier plunged into the room. His hat was gone, and his loose hair was plastered down his face. "A spy has arrived through the storm from Staten Island!" he shouted. "The British are landing in force at Gravesend. Officers are ordered to their commands at once." [TO BE CONTINUED.] A NEW LIFE. FLORENCE HALLOWELL HOYT. CHAPTER VII. Ten days after the lawn party Aunt Patty and Cynthia were alone once more in the old farm-house, for Ida had departed to Rocky Beach to spend the month of August with Angela Leverton. She went away in gay good humor, eager--as are all young people--for a change. But she was very affectionate when she parted with her aunt and sister. "I do wish you were going also, Cynthia," she said. Cynthia's plain, sweet face lighted up with pleasure. "Do you, really?" she asked. "Yes, I do, _really_," answered Ida. "I would be willing to stay at home myself if you could go in my stead, Cynthia." She gave a pleasant greeting to old Jake Storm when the stage stopped for her; and as it bore her away she waved her handkerchief from a window until the old farm-house and the two watchers at the gate were no longer to be seen. How little she dreamed what was to happen to her before she saw Brookville again! "How we miss Ida!" said Aunt Patty or Cynthia half a dozen times a day during the next week, and with what pleasure they read her frequent letters! Their tone was entirely different from that of those she had written during her stay at Aunt Stina's. "She actually inquires about Moses," laughed Cynthia one day, as she laid down a letter just received from Ida. As Moses was only a lame white turkey, this interest on Ida's part seemed surprising when contrasted with the utter indifference she had shown to everything about the farm on her arrival in June. Ida herself was surprised at the amount of thought she gave to those she had left behind. More than once she astonished Angela by remarking that she "wondered what Aunt Patty and Cynthia were doing now," and often, when wandering along the beach, she wished Cynthia could see the waves breaking against the rocks, and hear the lap of the surf. One day--a day fraught with much importance as it turned out--Angela and Ida drove to the little town of Edgerton to attend to some shopping for Mrs. Leverton, who was an invalid--or fancied herself one. It was late in the afternoon when they started homeward, and they were bowling along at a good round rate on the hard road, when suddenly Ida laid a hand on the reins. "Stop a moment, Angela," she said. "Look at that poor woman sitting under that old tree. She must be ill."