ruth in it. "Can we spend the night here, so that we can cross
the river in the morning?"

The expression of the woman, which had at first been one of surprise and
irritation at being stopped in her work, softened immediately. "Come in,"
she said, quickly; "my husband's only a farmer, and we can't give you
anything very fine, but it was never said of Mandy Hare that she turned
away from her house any loyal friend of the South."

With that she led her gratified visitors through a scantily-furnished
parlor into a kitchen which seemed to them like a Paradise. Over the
roaring fire in the great hearth several vessels were simmering and
emitting the most delightful odors, while a table near by was already set
for the coming meal. On a chair facing the fire a fat, white cat was
purring blissfully. The room was delightfully warm; the whole scene had an
irresistible attraction and air of domesticity.

"Make yourselves at home," commanded Mrs. Hare, cheerfully. "My husband
will be home from Jasper in a few minutes, and then you'll have something
to eat--such as 'tis."

At this instant there was a querulous little bark, which appeared to come
from the region of George Knight's heart. Mrs. Hare looked around in
surprise; the white cat stirred uneasily. The next second the boy had
shaken his overcoat, and from out of a large side pocket jumped the
diminutive Waggie. The cat, with one bound, took a flying leap to the
kitchen stairs, and brushing past the half-opened door at the bottom of
the flight, fairly tore up to the second story, where she disappeared.
Waggie gave a shrill yelp of emotion, but evidently concluded that it was
safer not to chase a strange and muscular cat in a strange house.

"Gracious me," cried Mrs. Hare; "did you bring that little fellow all the
way from Kentucky?"

"When I came away he followed me," replied George. He spoke the truth,
although he did not add that he "came away" from a Union camp rather than
from Kentucky. Waggie had been consigned to a member of General Mitchell's
staff, to remain with him during his owner's absence, but George had not
proceeded five miles on his journey before he heard a joyous bark behind
him--and there frisked and capered Waggie. "You'll have to turn spy now,"
George said. It was too late to send him back. Thus the dog joined the
party, much to the pleasure of all concerned.

Hardly had Waggie made his theatrical entrance into the kitchen before a
lean, prematurely