In fact, he had not sense enough left to consider the question at all; for there he lay, in the gloom of the traitor’s dark cellar, silent and motionless—­a solemn warning to all our young readers of the folly and wickedness of indulging an illegal and sinful curiosity.  It may seem cruel and inhuman in us to forsake poor Tom in this sad plight; but we must, nevertheless, go up stairs, in order that the sufferer may be duly and properly relieved in due and proper season.

When the committee of three, appointed by the indignant loyalists of Pinchbrook, had completed their mission in the house of the squire, like sensible men they proposed to leave; and they so expressed themselves, through their spokesman, to the unwilling host.  They put their hats on, and moved into the front entry, whither they were followed by the discomfited traitor.  They had scarcely left the room before a tremendous crash greeted the ears of that portion of the family which remained in the apartment.  This was the precise moment at which poor Tom Somers found himself on the bottom of the cellar; or, to be entirely accurate, when he lost himself on the bottom of the cellar.

Mrs. Pemberton heard the crash, and she very naturally concluded that the hour of retribution had actually come; that the terrible mob had commenced the work of destruction.  To her “fear-amazed” mind it seemed as though the whole side of the house had fallen in, and, for a moment, she confidently expected the chimneys would presently go by the board, and the roof come thundering down upon the devoted heads of her outraged family.  Perhaps, at that terrible moment, she wished her husband had been like other women’s husbands, a true and loyal man, cheering the old flag, and hurling harmless anathemas at the graceless rebels.

But the chimney did not go by the board, nor the roof come thundering down upon her head.  There was not even a sound of destruction to be heard, and the sides of the house seemed to be firm and decided in their intention to maintain their perpendicular position.  A few minutes later, when the committee announced to the multitude the success of their undertaking, and Fred had displayed the flag from the window, peal upon peal of stunning huzzas saluted her ears, and the awful peril of the preceding moments appeared to be averted.  The squire, having closed and barricaded the broken door as well as he could, returned to the room, with curses deep and bitter upon his lips.  He was not in the habit of swearing, but the magnitude of the occasion seemed to justify the innovation, and he swore hugely, roundly, awfully.  He paced the room, ground his teeth, and stamped upon the floor.

“Father, did you hear that terrible racket just now?” asked Mrs. Pemberton.  “I thought the side of the house had fallen in.”

“What racket?” demanded the squire, pausing in his excited walk.

“I am sure they have broken something.”