she rise.
That was Janie's way.

A second knock, louder than the first, sounded, and with it the woman's
solemn "Amen."

"Be not so hasty, stranger," she muttered, as she withdrew the bar;
"learn to wait for your betters."

The door swung back, and into the dim light of the bare room stepped a
tall man in Continental dress. His hat was in his hand, and he bowed
before Janie as if she were a queen. Andy drew back. No such stranger
had ever visited them before, and the boy gazed fascinated.

"Pardon me, my good woman," the rich voice said; "much as I dislike
disturbing you, I fear I must crave a few hours' rest and lodging, and
the service of one to row me across the river ere break of day. I have
been told that you have a son."

Andy quivered.

"A lodging, sir, is yours and welcome," Janie replied, motioning the
stranger toward a chair and closing the door after him. "I ever keep a
bed in readiness these troubled times. We are loyal to the cause, and I
would serve where I may. I have a son, sir, as you have heard, but,
alas! not one who can be of service. He is a cripple. However, rest; you
look sadly in need of it. I will hasten to a neighbor's a mile away, and
seek the service you desire."

"I regret to cause such trouble, but the need is urgent. I sympathize
with you in your son's affliction. It must be a sore grief to the lad to
sit apart these stirring times when young blood runs hot, and the
country calls so loudly."

Soon Janie was setting food before the stranger--good brown bread and
creamy milk. Andy saw the look of suffering on her face as she bustled
about, and he understood. He crept back to bed heavy-hearted. Ruth was
wrong; there was nothing for him to do.

The hot hours dragged on. Toward morning Andy grew restless, and quietly
arose and dressed. The feeling of bravery awakened within him, and a dim
thought grew and assumed shape in his brain. He could row strong and
well. Few knew of his accomplishment, for his life was lonely and the
exercise and practice had been one of his few diversions.

He knew a secret path among the rocks, which led to the river, and at
the end of the path was moored his tiny boat, the rough work of his
patient hands. Only Ruth knew of his treasure; often he and she had
glided away from the hamlet to think their thoughts, or dream their
young dreams.

Now, if he could arouse the stranger before his mother had summoned
another to do the service, he might share the j