She spoke with a smile, but her heart was ill at ease. The man she
loved was, for all she knew, in deadly danger, and she could not show
that she cared at all for him, for fear of showing that she cared too
much.
"I am really anxious about Arthur Farnham," continued Mrs. Belding. "I
hope he will not get himself into any scrape with those men."
The tumult on the street and on the lawn had as yet presented itself to
her in no worse light than as a labor demonstration, involving cheers
and rude language. "I am afraid he won't be polite enough to them. He
might make them a little speech, complimenting Ireland and the American
flag, and then they would go away. That's what your father did, in that
strike on the Wabash. It was in the papers at the time. But these
soldiers--I'm afraid Arthur mayn't be practical enough."
"Fortunately, we are not responsible for him," said Alice, whose heart
was beating violently.
"Why, Alice! what a heartless remark!"
At this instant the windows came crashing in, and a half-dozen ruffians
burst into the room. Alice sprang, pale and silent, to the side of her
mother, who sat, paralyzed with fright, in her rocking-chair.
A man came forward from the group of assailants. His soft hat was drawn
down over his eyes, and a red handkerchief concealed the lower part of
his face. His voice was that of Offitt, as he said, "Ladies, we don't
want to do no violence; but, in the name of the Revolutionary
Committee, we have called to collect an assessment on you." This
machinery was an invention of the moment, and was received with great
satisfaction by the Bread-winners.
"That's what's the matter," they said, in chorus. "Your assessment, and
be lively about it. All you've got handy."
"I have no money in the house," Mrs. Belding cried. "What shall I do?"
"You forget, mamma," said Alice. "There is some upstairs. If these
gentlemen will wait here a moment, I will go and get it."
Offitt looked at her sharply. "Well, run and get it. Bott, you go with
her."
Bott turned angrily upon his chief. "What's the use of calling names?
What if I said your name was----"
"There, there, don't keep the lady waiting."
Alice turned from the room, closely followed by Bott. Reaching the
stairs, she swept up the long flight with the swift grace of a swallow.
Bott hurried after her as fast as he could; but she gained her bedroom
door enough in advance to shut and lock it between them, leaving him
kicking and swearing in the hall. She ran to her open window, which
looked toward Farnham's, and sent the voice of her love and her trouble
together into the clear night in one loud cry, "Arthur!"
She blushed crimson as the word involuntarily broke from her lips, and
cried again as loudly as she could, "Help!"
"I hope he did not hear me at first," she said, covering her face with
her hands, and again she cried, "Help!"
"Shut up that noise," said Bott, who was kicking violently at the door,
but could not break it down. "Shut up, or I'll wring your neck."
She stopped, not on account of his threats, which suddenly ceased, but
because she heard the noise of footsteps on the porch, and of a short
but violent scuffle, which showed that aid of some sort had arrived. In
a few moments she heard Bott run away from her door. He started toward
the stairs, but finding his retreat cut off ran to the front window,
closely pursued. She heard a scramble. Then a voice which made her
heart beat tumultuously said. "Look out below there."
A moment after, the same voice said, "Have you got him?" and then, "All
right! keep him."