“And I had no one to guide me, Andy.  I was alone.  I have always been alone, and it has been hard.”  A sob rose to the trembling lips.  Andy looked at his mother, and, oddly enough through all the bewilderment, thought that she had a beauty he had never noticed before.

“You were handsome, too,” he whispered.  Janie started.

“Yes,” she replied.  “I suppose I was, then.  Your voice is like his.  It always was, Andy.  That was one reason that at times I could not bear it.  Oh, Andy! it is no easy matter to be a lonely woman!” The cry smote the listener, and his growing manhood reached out to her.

“Mother, you are not alone.  You have me.  I will come back to you, stand by you, and we will see what is best to do.  I must go on my errand, and I think you ought to go to—­to father!” The word nearly choked him.

“But suppose anything should happen to you?” Janie clung to the hand of this new, strange, but well-loved son, “whatever shall I do?

“I think I shall come back to you.  I think I am needed, and it seems clear to me that I shall come back.”  Andy smiled into the troubled face, and tried to rouse himself into action.

“If you should fall into the hands of the British,” whispered Janie, “tell them you are the son of Lieutenant Theodore Martin; it may help you, son.”

“Your name is my name!” Andy proudly broke in.  “I never shall seek favor through any other.  If they take me, they take Andy McNeal, and if I come back I shall come bearing that name, until my mother bids me take another!”

Janie bowed her head.  It had been her first, only weak attitude toward her country.

“You are right,” she quivered.  “But I fear for you.”

Presently his mother left him.  He and she had work to do, and it must be done apart.  A few minutes after she was gone, Ruth came up bearing a tray of food.  She was limping painfully, and Andy, sitting by the window lost in thought, got to his feet in alarm.  “You are hurt!” he cried.  A smile spread over the girl’s pale face.

“I’m a depraved sinner!” she said, setting the tray on a stand and dropping into a chair.  “After the war is over I shall repent and take up godly ways.  For the present I am a lost soul, and given over to Satan.  Andy, the lie I told yesterday about the river road was the beginning of my downfall.  How easily we glide downhill.”

“’Twas the only thing to do, Ruth,” nodded Andy.  “I think such a lie grows innocent from the start.  It was the object, Ruth.  What else could you have done?  It puzzles me sore to try and explain.  I just leave the lie to God.  He will understand.”

“I have left it there, Andy, and from the joy and gladness I have felt, I believe there was nothing else to do.  But this lameness, oh, Andy!”

“How did it happen?”

“Just as the lie did, Andy.  This is a bodily lie.”

“I do not understand, Ruth.”