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“Oh, Dulcie!” and Roxy jumped up and down in front of the old negress. “Tell me if he got away.”

“Ain’ I jes’ tole you? He got clare out ob sight, an’ he tuk de extra hoss! Yas’m, he was right clever, dat Yankee feller was. I spect he’s in Sharpsburg ’fore dis time.”

Roxy smiled so radiantly as she turned toward her mother that Mrs. Delfield smiled in response, well pleased that her little daughter should forget the fear and excitement of her adventure.

“What became of Polly Lawrence?” asked Mrs. Miller.

“Oh! Miss Polly jes’ druv toward home. She didn’ wait fer de gray coats to get back either,” and Dulcie went off chuckling with satisfaction.

“Well, Roxy, I think the Yankee boy owes his escape to you,” declared Mrs. Miller. “Your running off made the soldiers think you could tell them of the escaped prisoner, and so they ran after you, and that gave the man his chance.”

“As if the child could know——” began Mrs. Delfield, but was interrupted by an outcry from the cellar, and Dulcie’s complaining voice as she made her heavy way up the stairs and came hurrying to the sitting-room.