and apron, waited deftly upon the table; a woman of serious
countenance--so serious that the colonel wondered if she were a
present-day type of her race, and if the responsibilities of freedom
had robbed her people of their traditional light-heartedness and
gaiety.

After supper they sat out upon the piazza. The lights within were
turned down low, so that the moths and other insects might not be
attracted. Sweet odours from the garden filled the air. Through the
elms the stars, brighter than in more northern latitudes, looked out
from a sky of darker blue; so bright were they that the colonel,
looking around for the moon, was surprised to find that luminary
invisible. On the green background of the foliage the fireflies glowed
and flickered. There was no strident steam whistle from factory or
train to assault the ear, no rumble of passing cabs or street cars.
Far away, in some distant part of the straggling town, a sweet-toned
bell sounded the hour of an evening church service.

"To see you is a breath from the past, Henry," said Mrs. Treadwell.
"You are a fine, strong man now, but I can see you as you were, the
day you went away to the war, in your new gray uniform, on your fine
gray horse, at the head of your company. You were going to take Peter
with you, but he had got his feet poisoned with poison ivy, and
couldn't walk, and your father gave you another boy, and Peter cried
like a baby at being left behind. I can remember how proud you were,
and how proud your father was, when he gave you his sword--your
grandfather's sword, and told you never to draw it or sheath it,
except in honour; and how, when you were gone, the old gentleman shut
himself up for two whole days and would speak to no one. He was glad
and sorry--glad to send you to fight for your country, and sorry to
see you go--for you were his only boy."

The colonel thrilled with love and regret. His father had loved him,
he knew very well, and he had not visited his tomb for twenty-five
years. How far away it seemed too, the time when he had thought of
the Confederacy as his country! And the sword, his grandfather's
sword, had been for years stored away in a dark closet. His father had
kept it displayed upon the drawing-room wall, over the table on which
the family Bible had rested.

Mrs. Treadwell was silent for a moment.

"Times have changed since then, Henry. We have lost a great deal,
although we still have enough--yes, we have plenty to live upo