the success of her pleading, that the little woman's nerves
fairly quivered with jubilation; and best of all, the blue
stocking was still safe in the well, for had she not watched with
her own eyes every time the bucket was dipped to fetch up water
for the fire, having, somehow, got rid of the vow she had taken
regarding the drawing of the water.

As she saw the lad looking, with surprised countenance, into the
room where the feast was going on, a fear crept up her own face
and darted out from her eyes. It was, lest Joe Devins should
spoil it all by ill-timed words.

She made haste to meet him, basket in hand.

"Here, Joe," she said, "fetch me some small wood, there's a good
boy."

As she gave him the basket she was just in time to stop the
rejoinder that was issuing from his lips.

In time to intercept his return she was at the wood-pile.

"Joe," she said, half-abashed before the truth that shone in the
boy's eyes, "Joe," she repeated, "you know Major Pitcairn ordered
the fire put out, TO PLEASE ME, because I begged him so, and, in
return, what CAN I do but give them something to eat. Come and
help me."

"I won't," responded Joe. "Their hands are red with blood.
They've killed two men at the bridge."