Dan delivered a blow that sent Jack on his knees in the stubble of an old corn field.
“If you want to make me eat you, you're going straight about it,” he declared.
“Look out!” cried Jack, struggling to his feet, “there's a light over there among the trees,” and they walked on briskly up a narrow country lane which led, after several turnings, to a large frame house well hidden from the road.
In the doorway a woman was standing, with a lamp held above her head, and when she saw them she gave a little breathless call.
“Is that you, Jim?”
Dan went up the steps and stood, cap in hand, before her. The lamplight was full upon his ragged clothes and upon his pallid face with its strong high-bred lines of mouth and chin.
“I thought you were my husband,” said the woman, blushing at her mistake. “If you want food you are welcome to the little that I have—it is very little.” She led the way into the house, and motioned, with a pitiable gesture, to a table that was spread in the centre of the sitting room.
“Will you sit down?” she asked, and at the words, a child in the corner of the room set up a frightened cry.
“It's my supper—I want my supper,” wailed the child.
“Hush, dear,” said the woman, “they are our soldiers.”