pper vindictively, as
though thus she would like to treat the whole British army. "The dear
little cretur! what'll he do to-night without his mamma, and him never
away from her a night in his blessed life. 'Pears to me the Lord's
forgot the Colonies. O dearie, dearie me!" utterly overcome she
dropped into a chair, and throwing her homespun check apron over
her head, she gave way to such a fit of weeping as astonished and
perplexed Abram, one of whose principal articles of faith it was that
Basha couldn't shed a tear, even if she tried, "more'n if she's made
o' cast iron."

It indeed looked hopeless. Who was to follow after these men and
rescue Arthur? There was hardly any one left in town but old men,
women and children.

Mrs. Heath thought of this as she soothed Dorothy, coaxed her to eat a
little supper, and then sat by her side until she fell asleep. She sat
by the fire while the embers died out, or walked up and down the long,
lonely kitchen, wrestling, like Jacob, in prayer, for her boy, until
long after midnight.

And now let us follow Arthur's fortunes. The men galloped hard and
long over hills, through valleys and woods, so far away it seemed
to the little fellow he could never possibly see mamma or Dorothy
again. At last they drew up at a large white house, evidently the
headquarters of the officers, and Arthur was put at once into a dark
closet and there left. He was tired and dreadfully hungry, so hungry
that he could think of hardly anything else. He heard the rattling of
china and glasses, and knew they were at supper. By and by a servant
came and took him into the supper room. His eyes were so dazzled at
first by the change from the dark closet to the well-lighted room,
that he could scarcely see. But when the daze cleared he found himself
standing near the head of the table, where sat a stout man with a red
face, a fierce mustache, and an evil pair of eyes.

He looked at Arthur a moment. Then he poured out a glass of wine and
pushed it towards him: "Drink!"

But Arthur did not touch the glass.

"Drink, I say," he repeated impatiently. "Do you hear?"

"I have promised mamma never to drink wine," was the low response.

It seemed to poor Arthur as though everything had combined against
him. It was bad enough to have to say no to the question about the
uniform, and now here was something else that would make the men still
more angry with him. But the officer did not push his command; he
simply thru