At last they passed the
Connecticut border, and led by Zeke they urged their way to a
large farmhouse, at which, but a few months before, the table had
groaned under rustic dainties, and feather-beds had luxuriously
received the weary recruits bound to the front. They approached
the opulent farm in the dreary dark of the evening, and pursued by
a biting east wind laden with snow. Not only the weather, but the
very dogs seemed to have a spite against them; and the family had
to rush out to call them off.
"Weary soldiers ask for shelter," began Zeke.
"Of course you're bound for the lines," said the matronly
housewife. "Come in."
Zeke thought they would better enter at once before explaining;
and truly the large kitchen, with a great fire blazing on the
hearth, seemed like heaven. The door leading into the family
sitting-room was open, and there was another fire, with the red-
cheeked girls and the white-haired grandsire before it, their eyes
turned expectantly toward the new-comers. Instead of hearty
welcome, there was a questioning look on every face, even on that
of the kitchen-maid.
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