In the city, shutters were going up on the stores. The streets were filled with, restless citizens seeking news, and drays were halted here and there on the corners, the white eyes and frenzied calls of the negro drivers betraying their excitement. While Stephen related to his mother the events of the morning, Hester burned the dinner. It lay; still untouched, on the table when the throbbing of drums sent them to the front steps. Sigel's regiment had swung into the street, drawing in its wake a seething crowd. Three persons came out of the big house next door. One was Anna Brinsmade; and there was her father, his white hairs uncovered. The third was Jack. His sister was cringing to him appealingly, and he struggling in her grasp. Out of his coat pocket hung the curved butt of a pepperbox revolver. “Let me go, Anne!” he cried. “Do you think I can stay here while my people are shot down by a lot of damned Dutchman?” “John,” said Mr. Brinsmade, sternly, “I cannot let you join a mob. I cannot let you shoot at men who carry the Union flag.” “You cannot prevent me, sir,” shouted the young man, in a frenzy. “When foreigners take our flag for them own, it is time for us to shoot them down.” Wrenching himself free, he ran down the steps and up the street ahead of the regiment. Then the soldiers and the noisy crowd were upon them and while these were passing the two stood there as in a dream. After that silence fell upon the street, and Mr. Brinsmade turned and went back into the house, his head bowed as in prayer. Stephen and his mother drew back, but Anne saw them. “He is a rebel,” she faltered. “It will break my father's heart.” She looked at Stephen appealingly, unashamed of the tears in her eyes. Then she, too went in. “I cannot stay here mother,” he said. As he slammed the gate, Anne ran down the steps calling his name. He paused, and she caught his sleeve. “I knew you would go,” she said, “I knew you would go. Oh, Stephen, you have a cool head. Try to keep Jack--out of mischief.” He left her standing on the pavement. But when he reached the corner and looked back he saw that she had gone in at his own little gate to meet his mother. Then he walked rapidly westward. Now and again he was stopped by feverish questions, but at length he reached the top of the second ridge from the river, along which crowded Eighteenth Street now runs. There stood the new double mansion Mr. Spencer Catherwood had built two years before on the outskirts of the town, with the wall at the side, and the brick stable and stable yard. As Stephen approached it, the thought came to him how little this world's goods avail in times of trouble. One of the big Catherwood boys was in the blue marching regiment that day, and had been told by his father never again to darken his doors. Another was in Clarence Colfax's company of dragoons, and still another had fled southward the night after Sumter.