the cry of "Burn 'un out!" rose louder and louder.

But they did mean it. From the attic window we watched them light
torch after torch, sometimes throwing one at the house,--but it fell
harmless against the staunch oaken door, and blazed itself out on our
stone steps. All it did was to show more plainly than even daylight
had shown, the gaunt, ragged forms and pinched faces, furious with
famine.

John, as well as I, recoiled at that miserable sight.

"I'll speak to them," he said. "Unbar the window, Jael;" and before
I could hinder, he was leaning right out. "Holloa, there!"

At his loud and commanding voice a wave of up-turned faces surged
forward, expectant.

"My men, do you know what you are about? To burn down a gentleman's
house is--hanging."

There was a hush, and then a shout of derision.

"Not a Quaker's! nobody'll get hanged for burning out a Quaker!"

"That be true enough," muttered Jael between her teeth. "We must
e'en fight, as Mordecai's people fought, hand to hand, until they
slew their enemies."

"Fight!" repeated John, half to himself, as he stood at the now-
closed window, against which more than one blazing torch began to