lips parted and neck all lily-white against a loosened pile of
dark-brown hair.

"Be cussed if I turn back!" said the sergeant to himself; and added out
loud--

"Forty souldjers, in the King's name!"

"Forty devils!" says old Noy.

"They're devils to eat," answered the sergeant, in the most friendly
manner; "an', begad, ye must feed an' bed 'em this night--or else I'll
search your cellars. Ye are a loyal man--eh, farmer? An' your cellars
are big, I'm told."

"Sarah," calls out the old man, following the sergeant's bold glance,
"go back an' dress yersel' dacently this instant! These here honest
souldjers--forty damned honest gormandisin' souldjers--be come in his
Majesty's name, forty strong, to protect honest folks' rights in the
intervals of eatin' 'em out o' house an' home. Sergeant, ye be very
welcome i' the King's name. Cheese an' cider ye shall have, an' I pray
the mixture may turn your forty stomachs."

In a dozen minutes he had fetched out his stable-boys and farm-hands,
and, lantern in hand, was helping the sergeant to picket the horses and
stow the men about on clean straw in the outhouses. They were turning
back to the house, and the old man was turning over in his mind that the
sergeant hadn't yet said a word about where he was to sleep, when by the
door they found Madam Noy waiting, in her wedding gown, and with her
hair freshly braided.