.

"Shut the door--quick!" She obeyed in silence. "Lock it!" She turned the
rusty key, and waited. "Now the windows! Hurry, but do it quietly."

She closed the clumsy shutters and set the heavy bars into their slots;
then the man came forward, knelt down before her and took her hands.

"Listen, Virginia," he whispered earnestly; "don't you remember how your
dear, dear mother--and I, too, darling--always told you never to tell a
lie?"

"An' I haven't, Daddy-man," she protested, wondering. "'Deed, an' 'deed,
I haven't. Why--"

"Yes, yes, I know," he interrupted hurriedly; "but now--_you must_!" As
the child stepped backward and tried to draw away, he clasped her hands
more tightly still. "But listen, dear; it's to save _me_! Don't you
understand?--and it's _right_! When those men come, they mustn't find
me. Say I _was_ here, but I've gone. If they ask which way, tell them I
went down past the spring--through the blackberry patch. Do you
understand?--and can you remember?" She nodded gravely, and the
Southerner folded her tightly in his arms. "Be a brave little rebel,
honey--_for me_!"

He released her and began to mount the ladder leading to the scuttle in
the ceiling; but halfway up he paused, as Virgie checked him with a
solemn question:

"Daddy--would Gen'ral Lee want me to tell that lie?"

"Yes, dear," he answered slowly, thoughtfully; "this once! And, if ever
you see him, ask him, and he'll tell you so himself. God help you,
darling; it's for General Lee--and _you_!"

The littlest rebel sighed, as though a weight had been lifted from her
mind, and she cocked her head at the sound of louder hoof-beats on the
carriage road.

"All right, Daddy-man. I'll tell--a _whopper_!"

CHAPTER V

The man crawled up through the scuttle hole and disappeared; then drew
the ladder after him and closed the trap, while Virgie tiptoed to the
table and slipped into a seat.

The cabin was now in semi-darkness, except for a shaft of sunlight
entering through the jagged wound from the cannon-shot above the door;
and it fell on the quaint, brown head of little Miss Virginia Cary, and
the placid form of Susan Jemima, perching opposite, in serene contempt
of the coming of a conquering host.

The jingling clank of sabers grew louder to the listeners' ears, through
the rumble of pounding hoofs; a bugle's note came winnowing across the
fields, and Virgie leaned forward with a confidential whisper to her
doll:

"Susan Je