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“My whole table is at your service, my friend. I like your spirit. We need you here.”

“And here I am—how I got here I do not know, but I am here, and my name is Dennis O’Hay.”

He waited long for the return of the Governor to the war office, or country store, looking out of the window over the tops of the green hills.

“An’ faix, I do believe,” he said at last, “I minds me that this is the day when the world stands still. But, O my eyes, what is it that you see now?”

A light form of a little one came out of the door of the Governor’s house and walked to the war office. It was a girl, beautiful in figure, with a sensitive face, full of sympathy and benevolence.

She opened the door.

“My name is Faith,” said she. “I am Mr. Trumbull’s daughter. I keep store sometimes when my father, the Governor, is away late. I thought I would open the store this afternoon. Customers are likely to come, near nightfall.”

“I would help you tend store,” said Dennis O’Hay, “if I only knew how. It is not handy at a bargain that I would be now, and barter people, if you call them that here, would all get the best of me. But I may be able to do such things some day.”