“We want some supper,” they replied, “and will probably stay all night.”

“It is not in my power to accommodate you.”  I replied, as coolly as possible, “nor do I feel willing to admit any visitors in the absence of my husband.”

“If you do not admit us soon we will break the door down!” they exclaimed.

“Of that I am not much afraid,” said I; “it is too well secured.”

I withdrew from the window, and for half an hour they tried various means of effecting an entrance, but it was impossible.  I approached the window again, and they called out:  “If you do not have the door opened, we shall certainly fire!”

“Do so,” I replied; “there is no one to injure by it except helpless women and children.”

I did not suppose they would do it—­I thought it was intended only for a threat; and was therefore as much surprised as any of the others, when a bullet came whizzing through the front door, and passing through a pane of glass in an opposite window, fell into the yard.  A dreadful scream arose from the servants, and perhaps frightened for the effects, or perceiving my husband and the men, they made a hasty retreat; and I was just ready to sink from fright when Mr. Henshaw came in.  He told me never to stop up the bullet-hole, but to leave it to show what women were made of in the Revolution.

CHAPTER XIV.

Cousin Statia had completed her winter’s knitting, Aunt Henshaw began to make pumpkin pies, and the period of my visit was rapidly drawing to a close.  The letters from home grew more and more solicitous for my return, and at last the day was fixed.  I felt anxious to see them all again, and yet rather sorry to lay aside my present state of freedom.  I had quite escaped from leading-strings, and found it very pleasant to follow the bent of my inclination as I had done at Aunt Henshaw’s; but absence had banished all memory of the thorns I had sometimes encountered in my career at home, and I thought only of the roses—­the idea of change being also a great inducement.

Holly and I had passed whole afternoons in gathering hazel-nuts which grew near a fence not far from the house; and having filled a very respectable-sized bag with them, I felt quite impatient at the idea of returning home well-laden with supplies, like any prudent housekeeper.  Aunt Henshaw was to accompany me, and selecting some of her choicest produce, and an immense bunch of herbs, as antidotes for all the aches and ills which human flesh is heir to, on a bright, glowing September morning, we set forward on my homeward journey.  “Blessings brighten as they leave us;” and although I had been considered the torment of the whole household, all regretted my departure, and begged me to come soon again.