“I’ll call--” Mrs. Pitts began. Her husband caught her robe. “Don’t call anyone. Pray God the servants heard nothing. He’s coming to!” Mrs. Pitts was suddenly the efficient housewife. “Some warm water,” she said, setting the lamp down, “and then we’ll get him upstairs.” She disappeared in the shadows of the hall. There was a patter of feet on the stairway. “What’s the matter, papa?” a child’s voice asked. “Oh!” “Go back to bed, Helen! Mr. Douglass, are you all right?” Gideon Pitts bent over his unexpected visitor anxiously. Douglass sat up and put his hand to his head. It came away sticky. He looked around him and knew he was safe. “I’m fine, thank you!” he smiled. “Lie quiet, Mr. Douglass. Your head is hurt. My wife’s gone for warm water.” “You are very kind, sir.” Douglass’ head was clearing now. “I’ve been shot.” He heard a gasp and both men looked up. The little girl in her trailing white nightgown was leaning over the banister just above them, her blue eyes wide with excitement. “Helen,” her father spoke sharply. “I told you to go back to bed!” “Oh, father, can’t I help? The poor man is hurt!” “Don’t worry, honey,” Douglass smiled up at her. Now Mrs. Pitts was back with bowl and towels. She wiped away the blood, and Gideon Pitts declared that Douglass’ head had only been grazed. Douglass told what had happened, while they bandaged and fussed over him. Then Mrs. Pitts hurried away to get the guest-room ready. “We’ll be honored if you’d stay the night!” Pitts said. There was nothing else to do. “I’ll drive you in town first thing in the morning,” his host assured him, helping him upstairs and into a great four-poster bed. Everybody got up to see him off. Mrs. Pitts insisted that he have a “bite of breakfast.” The hired man had rubbed down and fed his horse. Holding the bridle reins in his hand Douglass climbed into the buggy with Mr. Pitts. “Better that I go in with you,” said his host. “Those ruffians might be lingering somewhere along the road.” It was a fresh, sweet morning in May. The Pitts’ orchard was in bloom. Everywhere was peace and growing things. Douglass smiled at the little girl standing on the wide porch, and Helen Pitts waved her hand. “Goodbye, Mr. Douglass. Do come back again!” She felt important, waving at the great Frederick Douglass. * * * * * So it happened that the next day John Brown found Douglass with a bandage fastened about his head. “It’s Captain John Brown!” called Charles, ushering the visitor in. Anna Douglass came in from the kitchen and greeted him warmly. “We’re just sitting down to breakfast, Captain Brown. You are just in time.” Little Annie set another plate, smiling shyly at the old man. His hand smoothed her soft hair. “We’ll take a ride,” he promised and Annie’s eyes shone. “They’ve attacked you!” John Brown exclaimed when Douglass came in with the bandage on his head.