-blowsin' at loose
eends, stiddier bein' plaited up stiff an' tight an' personable, an' yer
face burned pink in the sun, stiddier like yer skin ginerally looks,
fine an' white ez a pan o' fraish milk, an' the flabby, slinksy skirt o'
that yaller calico dress 'thout no starch in it, a-flappin' an' whirlin'
in the wind--shucks! I dun'no' _whut_ the man could hev thought o'
you-uns, dressed out that-a-way."

"He war toler'ble well pleased with me now, sure!" retorted Ethelinda,
stung to a blunt self-assertion. "He keered mo' about a good-lookin'
road than a good-lookin' gal then. Whenst the squad kem back an'
reported the passage full safe for man an' beastis the leader tuk a
purse o' money out'n his pocket an' held it out to me--though he said it
couldn't express his thanks.' But I held my hands behind me an' wouldn't
take it. Then he called up another man an' made him open a bag, an'
he snatched up my empty milk-piggin' an' poured it nigh full o' green
coffee in the bean--it be skeerce ez gold an' nigh ez precious."

"An' _what_ did you do with it, Ethelindy?" her mother asked,
significantly--not for information, but for the renewal of discussion
and to justify the repetition of rebukes. These had not been few.

"You know," the girl returned, sullenly.

"_I_ do," the glib grandmother interposed. "Ye jes' gin we-uns a sniff
an' a sup, an' then ye tuk the kittle that leaks an' shook the rest
of the coffee beans from out yer milk-piggin inter it, an' sot out an'
marched yer-self through the laurel--I wonder nuthin' didn't ketch ye!
howsomever naught is never in danger--an' went ter that horspital camp
o' the rebels on Big Injun Mounting--smallpox horspital it is--an' gin
that precious coffee away to the enemies o' yer kentry."

"Nobody comes nor goes ter that place--hell itself ain't so avoided,"
said Mrs. Brusie, her forehead corrugated with sudden recurrence of
anxiety. "Nobody else in this world would have resked it, 'ceptin' that
headin' contrairy gal, Ethelindy Brusie."

"I never resked nuthin," protested Ethelinda. "I stopped at the head of a
bluff far off, an' hollered down ter 'em in the clearin' an' held up
the kittle. An' two or three rebs war out of thar tents in the
clearin'--thar be a good sight o' new graves up thar!--an' them men
war hollerin' an' wavin' me away, till they seen what I war doin'; jes'
settin' down the kittle an' startin' off."

She gazed meditatively into the fire, of set purpose avoidi