cess of their undertaking, and
Fred had displayed the flag from the window, peal upon peal of stunning
huzzas saluted her ears, and the awful peril of the preceding moments
appeared to be averted. The squire, having closed and barricaded the
broken door as well as he could, returned to the room, with curses deep
and bitter upon his lips. He was not in the habit of swearing, but the
magnitude of the occasion seemed to justify the innovation, and he swore
hugely, roundly, awfully. He paced the room, ground his teeth, and stamped
upon the floor.

"Father, did you hear that terrible racket just now?" asked Mrs.
Pemberton. "I thought the side of the house had fallen in."

"What racket?" demanded the squire, pausing in his excited walk.

"I am sure they have broken something."

"It sounded as though it was down cellar," added Susan, the daughter.

"What was it?" asked the father.

"I don't know. It sounded like breaking boards. Do go down cellar, and
find out what it was."

"The scoundrels!" roared the squire, as he rushed up and down the room
again with the fury of a madman. "I'll teach them to break into my house!"

"Be calm, father," interposed Mrs. Pemberton, who, like most New England
mothers, called her husband by the title which belonged exclusively to the
children.

"Calm? How can I be calm? Don't you hear the ruffians shout and yell?"

"They are only cheering the flag."

The squire muttered a malediction upon the flag, which would probably have
procured for him a coat of tar and feathers, if the mob had heard it. Mrs.
Pemberton was silent, for she had never seen her husband so moved before.
She permitted him to pace the room in his frenzy till his anger had, in
some measure, subsided.

"I wish you would go down cellar and find out what that noise was," said
Mrs. Pemberton, as soon as she dared to speak again. "Perhaps some of them
are down there now. Who knows but they will set the house afire."

Squire Pemberton was startled by this suggestion, and, seizing the lamp,
he rushed down cellar to prevent so dire a calamity.

CHAPTER V.

THE ATTIC CHAMBER.

Squire Pemberton rushed down cellar. He was very much excited, and forgot
that he had been troubled with the rheumatism during the preceding winter.
When he opened the cellar door, he was considerably relieved to find that
no brilliant light saluted his expectant gaze. It was as cold and dark in
the cellar as it had been when he sorted over t