"Thou shouldst call me Caspar, my child," said Caspar. "Well, Caspar, then!—And won't you give him something real nice to eat, Aunt Deborah, because he gave me almost all the supper there was?" "Yes, yes! We will see to that. So he found thee in the woods?" Kitty told her tale over again to admiring listeners, and Caspar found himself promoted from the position of a suspected prisoner to that of a hero. A comfortable room was assigned to him for a prison, if so it could be called, and a savoury hot supper sent up to him. It was the most homelike meal he had seen in many a day, but somehow, though parched with thirst, he felt no disposition to eat. He had just emptied the pitcher of home-brewed beer when Recompense Joake presented his solemn face at the door: "Has thee got everything comfortable?" "Everything, thank you." "I have brought thee a pipe and some tobacco," said his friend, advancing into the room and closing the door. "I don't smoke myself, but I know how much people who do are attached to the weed." "I don't smoke, either, for a wonder," answered Caspar, "but I thank you all the same." Recompense still lingered, arranging the fire, and Caspar, who longed to be alone, wondered when he was going. At last, Recompense drew close to him and said, in a low tone,— "Friend, I'm not just clear that I am in the path of duty, but I reckon I'll risk it, seeing you saved the child." "Risk what?" asked Caspar. "Well, risk going a little grain out of the way for thee. If thee would rather get away before the captain comes home, there's that window opens out on the roof of the shed. It's only five feet from the ground, and there's a boat down by the landing with the oars in it. Does thee understand?" "I understand," said Caspar, seeing what was the drift of the good-natured Quaker. "You mean to let me get away." "Just so. I won't take it upon me to advise thee. Thee can do as thee likes, of course. But if thee shouldn't think best to run any risks—Thee sees thy people have done a good many hard things in the Jerseys, and folks is naturally put out. Of course we expect the British to fight us, but when it comes to folks we never had any quarrel with, and never did anything to, coming over and abusing our women-folks and stealing our goods—well, if it wasn't against the testimony of Friends, I don't say but I should feel like fighting myself." "But you see, we can't help it," said Caspar. "Nobody asked us if we would come. Our king sold us to the English king, and we couldn't help ourselves. I was carried away from my family, and never allowed even to bid them good-bye." "Then, if I was thee, and didn't see it to be against my conscience, I'd run away first chance I got. Well, good-night! I thought I'd tell thee, and thee could do as thee liked. Good-night! I hope thee 'll sleep."