“Come in.  We’ll try what can be done for you.”

There was a change in the man’s voice that made me wonder.

I entered a large room, in which blazed a brisk fire.  Before the fire sat two stout lads, who turned upon me their heavy eyes, with no very welcome greeting.  A middle-aged woman was standing at a table, and two children were amusing themselves with a kitten on the floor.

“A stranger, mother,” said the man who had given me so rude a greeting at the door; “and he wants us to let him stay all night.”

The woman looked at me doubtingly for a few moments, and then replied coldly—­

“We don’t keep a public-house.”

“I’m aware of that, ma’am,” said I; “but night has overtaken me, and it’s a long way yet to G——.”

“Too far for a tired man to go on foot,” said the master of the house, kindly, “so it’s no use talking about it, mother; we must give him a bed.”

So unobtrusively, that I scarcely noticed the movement, the girl had drawn to the woman’s side.  What she said to her, I did not hear, for the brief words were uttered in a low voice; but I noticed, as she spoke, one small, fair hand rested on the woman’s hand.  Was there magic in that gentle touch?  The woman’s repulsive aspect changed into one of kindly welcome, and she said: 

“Yes, it’s a long way to G——.  I guess we can find a place for him.  Have you had any supper?”

I answered in the negative.

The woman, without further remark, drew a pine table from the wall, placed upon it some cold meat, fresh bread and butter, and a pitcher of new milk.  While these preparations were going on, I had more leisure for minute observation.  There was a singular contrast between the young girl I have mentioned and the other inmates of the room; and yet, I could trace a strong likeness between the maiden and the woman, whom I supposed to be her mother—­browned and hard as were the features of the latter.

Soon after I had commenced eating my supper, the two children who were playing on the floor, began quarrelling with each other.

“John! go off to bed!” said the father, in a loud, peremptory voice, speaking to one of the children.

But John, though he could not help hearing, did not choose to obey.

“Do you hear me, sir?  Off with you!” repeated the angry father.

“I don’t want to go,” whined the child.

“Go, I tell you, this minute!”

Still, there was not the slightest movement to obey; and the little fellow looked the very image of rebellion.  At this crisis in the affair, when a storm seemed inevitable, the sister, as I supposed her to be, glided across the room, and stooping down, took the child’s hands in hers.  Not a word was said; but the young rebel was instantly subdued.  Rising, he passed out by her side, and I saw no more of him during the evening.