r what on the face er the
yeth Lou Hornsby could 'a' been a-dreamin' about. From the way she's
been a-gigglin' aroun' I'd 'a' thought she'd 'a' sot her cap fer the
giner'l."

"I say it!" said Bud, laughing loudly. "Whatter you reckon the giner'l
'ud 'a' been a-doin' all that time? I see 'er now, a-gigglin' an'
a-settin' 'er cap fer the giner'l. Lordy, yes!"

"What's the matter betwixt you an' Lou?" asked Mrs. Stucky grimly.
"'Taint been no time senst you wuz a-totin' water fer her ma, an'
a-hangin' aroun' whilst she played the music in the church thar." Bud
continued to laugh. "But, Lordy!" his mother went on, "I reckon you'll
be a-totin' water an' a-runnin' er'n's fer thish yer Yankee gal what
played on the orgin up thar jess now."

"Well, they hain't no tellin'," said Bud, rubbing his thin beard
reflectively. "She's mighty spry 'long er that orgin, an' she's got
mighty purty han's an' nimble fingers, an' ef she 'uz ter let down her
ha'r, she'd be plum ready ter fly."

"She walked home wi' the giner'l," said Mrs. Stucky.

"I seed 'er," said Bud. "He sent some yuther gals home in the carriage,
an' him an' the Yankee gal went a-walkin' down the road. He humped up
his arm this away, an' the gal tuck it, an' off they put." Bud seemed to
enjoy the recollection of the scene; for he repeated, after waiting a
while to see what his mother would have to say: "Yes, siree! she tuck
it, an' off they put."

Mrs. Stucky looked at this grown man, her son, for a long time without
saying anything, and finally remarked with something very like a sigh:
"Well, honey, you neenter begrudge 'em the'r walk. Hit's a long ways
through the san'."

"Lordy, yes'n!" exclaimed Bud with something like a smile; "it's a
mighty long ways, but the giner'l had the gal wi' 'im. He jess humped up
his arm, an' she tuck it, an' off they put."

It was even so. General Garwood and Helen walked home from the little
church. The road was a long but a shining one. In the moonlight the sand
shone white, save where little drifts and eddies of pine-needles had
gathered. But these were no obstruction to the perspective, for the road
was an avenue, broad and level, that lost itself in the distance only
because the companionable pines, interlacing their boughs, contrived to
present a background both vague and sombre--a background that receded on
approach, and finally developed into the village of Azalia and its
suburbs. Along this level and shining highway Helen