great-great-grandmother Letitia looked as usual. She approached the
door, and spoke quite coolly. "Who may be without?" said she.

She had taken a musket as she crossed the room, and stood with it
levelled. Letitia also took a musket and levelled it, but it shook
and it seemed as if her great-great-grandmother was in considerable
danger.

There came another pound on the door, and a boy's voice cried out
desperately. "It's me, let me in."

"Who is me?" inquired Great-great-grandmother Letitia, but she
lowered her musket, and Letitia did the same, for it was quite
evident that this was no Indian and no catamount.

"It is Josephus Peabody," answered the boy's voice, and Letitia
gasped, for she remembered seeing that very name on the genealogical
tree which hung in her great-aunt Peggy's front entry, although she
could not quite remember where it came in, whether it was on a main
branch or a twig.

"Are the Injuns after you?" inquired Great-great-grandmother Letitia.

"I don't know, but I heard branches crackling in the wood," replied
the terrified boy-voice, "and I saw your light through the shutters."

"You rake the ashes over the fire, while I let him in," ordered the
great-great-grandmother Letitia, peremptorily, and Letitia obeyed.

She raked the ashes carefully over the fire, she hung blankets over