Shepherdstown register. [volume] (Shepherdstown, Va. [W. Va.]) 1849-1955, 1894-11-08

! had come at last. linen Sne lHOuguJ
of her mother and the children had
she not told her father when he went
away that she would take care of them?
She shut her lips firmly and crept
softly out of bed. Her hands shook
so that she could scarcely dress. Dolly
stirred restlessly as she was leaving
the room. Barbara went back and
kissed her softly. Her heart beat so
that it seemed as if it would choke her,
as she stole down the stairs; but when
Barbara Havens had once set her res
olute little face toward anything she
was not the girl to turn back.
The kitchen door was open, and the
room bright with moonlight. Two
people stood there talking. one was
her mother, and the other-the two
turned quickly at the girls sudden
exclamation and the next minute Bar
bara was in her fathers arms.
Barbara" said her mother, in a
displeased tone; chow came you here?'
81 thought twas Redcoats, and |
came down to protect you and the
children" " sobbed Barbara, quite over
come by the excitement and sudden
relief.
Her father could not help smiling,
and even Mistress Haven's face relaxed
a little, but her voice was still stern.
"Tis no time for tears, she said, "and
you are too big girl for them. Since
you are here you may as well know
the truth. Your father is--on secret
duty-and must ride away at dark
tomorrow. Meantime he will hide
here.
Barbaras s face grew white. "ls ne
"a spy" she whispered.
Mistress Havens nodded; her face
looked drawn and tense
He would be called so, she said.
eve fear Andrew Gardiner; he Of all
men must not know your father has
been here. Now be quiet, Barbara,
and seek to know no more. 1t will
be best so. "
"Look not so sadly frightened, lit
tie daughter" said her father, cheer
fully: It's not likely my mission is
suspected. l must 90 now and turn
old Sally out in the wood pasture-she
would, perchance, be noticed in the
barn-and I'll return straightway.
Let me go" begged Barbara tbs
but little way, and the moon is full,
I can do that, at least"
eyes, Abner, let her go, said the
mother; "you are worn out.
$50 be it then, answered her faith
er. "You are not afraid, daughter?'
Nay, there's naught to fear, an
swered Barbara, gravely. She went
out and unfastened old Sally, and led
her up the lane toward the wood pas
ture. What strange, strange night
it was, she thought, as she walked
along with Sally plodding wearily be-
side her-such a great, quiet, silver
world in the moonlight 1t did not
seem as if there could be any danger
in it. But in spite of that, she started
at every sound and shadow, aud the
way seemed interminable. She tugged
harder at Sally's bride, and when she
reached the bars, fumbled over them
so that she thought she would never
get them down. But at last she led
the mare into the woods, put the bars
up again and ran home. She was
afraid her mother would send her
away, but she did not. Barbara
moved close to her father, and sat per-
fectly still, listening as he told of the
hardships and privations of the SOL
diers, of their devotion to the general.
One hour, two, passed; then the
moon sank behind the trees and there
was a strange dimness in the room.
Tell your father gOOd-by and then
90 up stairs, Barbara, said her mother
You are tagged out You shall sleep
late in the morning.
Barbara silently clung to her father
a moment and then went up stairs, but
she could not sleep; she wondered
where her father could hide and what
they would do if Andrew Gardner
had suspected him. Suppose he would
come and search for him Back anc
forth in her tired head the anxious
thought kept surging, until finally sh'
fell into a troubled sleep.
The sun was quite high when sh'
awoke. At first she could not thinl
what made her feel so tired then tn
memory of the strange night came bacl
and she hurried down stairs. DE
mother was moving busily about a