“In the name of wonder, what’s this?” she almost screamed, as the full blaze of the lamp fell upon the flag, revealing the truth at once, and partially stopping her breath.

Robbery was nothing to insult; and, forgetting the wine, she gasped:  “‘Stars and Stripes’ in this house!  In the house of my grandfather, as loyal a subject as King George ever boasted!  What can Margaret be doing to suffer a thing like this?”

A few steps further on, and Margaret herself might have been seen peering out into the darkened upper hall, and listening anxiously to her grandmother’s voice.  The sound of the rattling old wagon had aroused her, and, curious to know who was stirring at this early hour, she had cautiously opened her window, which overlooked the piazza, and to her great dismay had recognized her grandmother as she gave orders concerning her baggage.  Flying back to her room, she awoke her sister, who, springing up in bed, whispered faintly:  “Will she kill us dead, Maggie?  Will she kill us dead?”

“Pshaw! no,” answered Maggie, her own courage rising with Theo’s fears.  “She’ll have to scold a spell, I suppose; but I can coax her, I know!”

By this time the old lady was ascending the stairs, and closing the door Maggie applied her eye to the keyhole, listening breathlessly for what might follow.  George Douglas and Henry Warner occupied separate rooms, and their boots were now standing outside their doors, ready for the chore boy, Jim, who thus earned a quarter every day.  Stumbling first upon the pair belonging to George Douglas, the lady took them up, ejaculating:  “Boots! boots!  Yes, men’s boots, as I’m a living woman!  The like was never seen by me before in this hall.  Another pair!” she continued, as her eye fell on those of Henry Warner.  “Another pair, and in the best chamber, too!  What will come next?” And setting down her light, she wiped the drops of perspiration from her face, at the same time looking around in some alarm lest the owners of said boots should come forth.

Just at that moment Mrs. Jeffrey appeared.  Alarmed by the unusual noise, and fancying the young gentlemen might be robbing the house as a farewell performance, she had donned a calico wrapper, and tying a black silk handkerchief over her cap, had taken her scissors, the only weapon of defense she could find, and thus equipped for battle she had sallied forth.  She was prepared for burglars—­nay, she would not have been disappointed had she found the young men busily engaged in removing the ponderous furniture from their rooms; but the sight of Madam Conway, at that unseasonable hour, was wholly unexpected, and in her fright she dropped the lamp which she had lighted in place of her candle, and which was broken in fragments, deluging the carpet with oil and eliciting a fresh groan from Madam Conway.

“Jeffrey, Jeffrey!” she gasped; “what have you done?”

“Great goodness!” ejaculated Mrs. Jeffrey, remembering her adventure when once before she left her room in the night.  “I certainly am the most unfortunate of mortals.  Catch me out of bed again, let what will happen;” and turning, she was about to leave the hall, when Madam Conway, anxious to know what had been done, called her back, saying rather indignantly, “I’d like to know whose house I am in?”