Harriet Theresa Comstock

“ At the first rustling of the birds in the trees, Andy crept down-stairs. His mother's room and the guest-room both opened from the living-room, but Janie's door was closed, while the stranger's was ajar. Through it came the sound of low-spoken words.
"Accept the thanks of thy servant for all bountiful mercies of the past. Guide his future steps. Bless our enemies, and make them just. Amen."
The boy bowed his head, instinctively. Surely he had nothing to fear from such a man. He went nearer and tapped lightly on the door. Light as was the touch, the stranger started. ”

“ Janie shook her head dolefully, not heeding Andy's smile.
"How do we know," she went on, "but that the gentleman was on the great Washington's business? He was an overgrand body himself, and had excellent manners."
"Mother!" the old hesitating tone crept back unconsciously into Andy's voice as he faced his mother; "mother, I rowed the stranger across the river, he is—safely landed. It—was—it—was—Washington himself!"
"Andy!" Janie flung up her hands, and nearly fell from the step; "think, lad, of your words. You look and talk clean daft." ”

“ Andy quivered.
"A lodging, sir, is yours and welcome," Janie replied, motioning the stranger toward a chair and closing the door after him. "I ever keep a bed in readiness these troubled times. We are loyal to the cause, and I would serve where I may. I have a son, sir, as you have heard, but, alas! not one who can be of service. He is a cripple. ”