door leading from the store into the living-room, grinningly observing the little drama which the reader has been following. As Desire broke away from Perez and rushed to her mother, Meshech exclaimed: “Wy in time did'n yer hole ontew her, Cap'n? I'd like ter seen her git away from me.” “Or me nuther,” seconded the fellow next him. Perez paid no heed to this remonstrance, and probably did not hear it at all, but Mrs. Edwards looked up. In her bewilderment and distress over Desire the thought of her husband and Jonathan had been driven from her mind. The sight of Meshech recalled it. “What have you done with my husband?” she demanded anxiously. “He's all right. He an the young cub be jess a gonter take a leetle walk with us fellers 'cross the border,” replied Meschech jocularly. “What are you going to take them away for? What are you going to do to them?” cried Mrs. Edwards. “Oh, ye need'n be skeert,” Meshech reassured her. “He'll hev good kumpny. Squire Woodbridge an Ginral Ashley an Doctor Sergeant, Cap'n Jones an schoolmaster Gleason, an a slew more o' the silk stockins be a goin' tew.” “Are you going to murder them?” exclaimed the frantic woman. “Wal,” drawled Meshech, “that depends. Ef govment hangs any o' our fellers wat they've got in jail, we're gonter hang yewr husban' an the res' on em, sure's taxes. Ef none o' aourn ain't hurt, we shan't hurt none o' yourn. We take em fer kinder hostiges, ye see, ole lady.” “Where have you got my husband? I must go to him. God help us!” ejaculated Mrs. Edwards; and loosing herself from her daughter, now in turn forgotten in anxiety for husband and son, the poor woman hurried past Meshech through the confused store and so out of the house. At the same moment the drum at the tavern began to beat the recall to the plundering parties of insurgents scattered over the village, and the men poured out of the store. Save for the presence of the smaller children and the negro servants cowering in a corner, Desire and Perez were left alone in the room. With no refuge to fly to, she stood where her mother had left her, just before Perez, with face averted, trembling, motionless, like a timid bird which seeing no escape struggles no longer, but waits for its captor's hand to close upon it. But in his nonplused, piteously perplexed face, you would have vainly looked for the hardened and remorseless expression appropriate to his part. The roll of the rebel drum kept on. “See here, Cap'n,” said Abner Rathbun, suddenly appearing at the outside door of the living-room, “we've got the hostiges together, an we'd better be a gittin along, for the 'larm's gone ter Pittsfield an all roun' an we'll hev the milishy ontew us in no time. An besides that the fellers tew the tavern be a gittin so drunk, some on em can't walk a' ready.” Aroused by Abner's insistent words, Perez took Desire's hand, and said desperately: