Arrived at the house he there again saw his employer, who, after attentively eyeing him without speaking, bade a meal be prepared for him, when the maid presenting a smaller supply than her kind master deemed necessary, she was ordered to return and bring out the entire dish. But aware of the danger of sudden repletion of heavy food to one in his condition, Israel, previously recruited by the frugal meal at the inn, partook but sparingly. The repast was spread on the grass, and being over, the good knight again looking inquisitively at Israel, ordered a comfortable bed to be laid in the barn, and here Israel spent a capital night. After breakfast, next morning, he was proceeding to go with the laborers to their work, when his employer approaching him with a benevolent air, bade him return to his couch, and there remain till he had slept his fill, and was in a better state to resume his labors. Upon coming forth again a little after noon, he found Sir John walking alone in the grounds. Upon discovering him, Israel would have retreated, fearing that he might intrude; but beckoning him to advance, the knight, as Israel drew nigh, fixed on him such a penetrating glance, that our poor hero quaked to the core. Neither was his dread of detection relieved by the knight’s now calling in a loud voice for one from the house. Israel was just on the point of fleeing, when overhearing the words of the master to the servant who now appeared, all dread departed: “Bring hither some wine!” It presently came; by order of the knight the salver was set down on a green bank near by, and the servant retired. “My poor fellow,” said Sir John, now pouring out a glass of wine, and handing it to Israel, “I perceive that you are an American; and, if I am not mistaken, you are an escaped prisoner of war. But no fear—drink the wine.” “Mr. Millet,” exclaimed Israel aghast, the untasted wine trembling in his hand, “Mr. Millet, I—” “_Mr_. Millet—there it is again. Why don’t you say _Sir John_ like the rest?” “Why, sir—pardon me—but somehow, I can’t. I’ve tried; but I can’t. You won’t betray me for that?” “Betray—poor fellow! Hark ye, your history is doubtless a secret which you would not wish to divulge to a stranger; but whatever happens to you, I pledge you my honor I will never betray you.” “God bless you for that, Mr. Millet.” “Come, come; call me by my right name. I am not Mr. Millet. _You_ have said _Sir_ to me; and no doubt you have a thousand times said _John_ to other people. Now can’t you couple the two? Try once. Come. Only _Sir_ and then _John_—_Sir John_—that’s all.” “John—I can’t—Sir, sir!—your pardon. I didn’t mean that.” “My good fellow,” said the knight looking sharply upon Israel, “tell me, are all your countrymen like you? If so, it’s no use fighting them. To that effect, I must write to his Majesty myself. Well, I excuse you from Sir Johnning me. But tell me the truth, are you not a seafaring man, and lately a prisoner of war?”