The man's face bending over her was ghastly in the moonlight. He went on pleading. "If you will hide me somewhere about your place, they will not find me," said he, still in that sharp agonized whisper. "They are after me—can't you hear them?"
Ann could, listening, hear distant voices on the night air.
"I was just going to hide in your barn," said the thief, "when I met you. O let me in there, now! don't betray me!"
Great tears were rolling down his bearded cheeks. Ann began to waver. "They might look in the barn," said she hesitatingly.
The man followed up his advantages. "Then hide me in the house," said he. "I have a daughter at home, about your age. She's waiting for me, and it's long she'll wait, and sad news she'll get at the end of the waiting, if you don't help me. She hasn't any mother, she's a little tender thing—it'll kill her!" He groaned as he said it.
The voices came nearer. Ann hesitated no longer. "Come," said she, "quick!"
