d. You have this house
and garden to play in, but you are by no means to go out at the front of
the house. And whatever you may see or hear, you are to tell no one. Do
you understand?"

"Yes, sir," I said.

"For the rest," said he, "Breed will give you food, and look out for
your welfare."

And so he dismissed me. They were lonely days after that for a boy used
to activity, and only the damp garden paths and lawns to run on. The
creek at the back of the garden was stagnant and marshy when the water
fell, and overhung by leafy boughs. On each side of the garden was a
high brick wall. And though I was often tempted to climb it, I felt
that disobedience was disloyalty to my father. Then there was the great
house, dark and lonely in its magnificence, over which I roamed until I
knew every corner of it.

I was most interested of all in the pictures of men and women in quaint,
old-time costumes, and I used during the great heat of the day to sit in
the drawing-room and study these, and wonder who they were and when they
lived. Another amusement I had was to climb into the deep windows
and peer through the blinds across the front garden into the street.
Sometimes men stopped and talked loudly there, and again a rattle of
drums would send me running to see the soldiers. I recall that I had a
poor enough notion of what the fighting was all about. And no wonder.
But I remember chiefly my insatiable longing to escape from this prison,
as the great house soon became for me. And I yearned with a yearning I
cannot express for our cabin in the hills and the old life there.

I caught glimpses of the master on occasions only, and then I avoided
him; for I knew he had no wish to see me. Sometimes he would be seated
in the gallery, tapping his foot on the floor, and sometimes pacing the
garden walks with his hands opening and shutting. And one night I awoke
with a start, and lay for a while listening until I heard something like
a splash, and the scraping of the bottom-boards of a boat. Irresistibly
I jumped out of bed, and running to the gallery rail I saw two dark
figures moving among the leaves below. The next morning I came suddenly
on a strange gentleman in the gallery. He wore a flowered dressing-gown
like the one I had seen on the master, and he had a jolly, round face. I
stopped and stared.

"Who the devil are you?" said he, but not unkindly.

"My name is David Trimble," said I, "and I come from the mountains."

He laugh