ade haste to say, "he's
old, VERY old; eighty-five, his last birthday, and--a little hoity-toity
at times," pointing deftly with her finger in the region of the
reasoning powers in her own shapely head.

Summoning Major Pitcairn by an offer of a dish of beans, she contrived
to say, under covert of it:

"You see, sir, I couldn't go away and leave him; he is almost distracted
with rheumatism, and this excitement to-day will kill him, I'm afraid."

Advancing toward the staircase with bold and soldierly front, Major
Pitcairn said to Uncle John:

"Stand aside, old man, and we'll hold you harmless."

"I don't believe you will, you red-trimmed trooper, you," was the reply;
and, with a dexterous swing of the wooden staff, he mowed off and down
three military hats.

Before any one had time to speak, Martha Moulton adroitly stooping, as
though to recover Major Pitcairn's hat, which had rolled to her feet,
swung the stairway-door into its place with a resounding bang, and
followed up that achievement with a swift turn of two large wooden
buttons, one high up, and the other low down, near the floor.

"There!" she said, "he is safe out of mischief for awhile, and your
heads are safe as well. Pardon a poor old man, who does not know what he
is about."

"He seems to know remarkably well," exclaimed an officer.

Meanwhile, behind the strong door, Uncle John's wrath knew no bounds.
In his frantic endeavors to burst the fastenings of the wooden buttons,
rheumatic cramps seized him and carried the day, leaving him out of the
battle.

Meanwhile, a portion of the soldiery clustered about the door. The
king's horses were fed within five feet of the great brass knocker,
while, within the house, the beautiful little old woman, in her
Sunday-best-raiment, tried to do the dismal honors of the day to the
foes of her country. Watching her, one would have thought she was
entertaining heroes returned from the achievement of valiant deeds,
whereas, in her own heart, she knew full well that she was giving a
little to save much.

Nothing could exceed the seeming alacrity with which she fetched water
from the well for the officers: and, when Major Pitcairn gallantly
ordered his men to do the service, the little soul was in alarm; she was
so afraid that "somehow, in some way or another, the blue stocking would
get hitched on to the bucket." She knew that she must to its rescue, and
so she bravely acknowledged herself to have taken a vow (wh