ons in the hallway were discussing the
situation.

It was Mrs. Dick Bradner who let him in,--a short, stout woman of fifty,
with piercing black eyes and jet-black hair. Her skin was as dark as
that of a mulatto, and her features were by no means prepossessing.

"Well?" she snapped, as she threw back the door.

"I stopped for a bit of information," replied Artie, as he bowed and
came into the hallway, a wide affair, running directly through to the
rear.

"What is it you wish to know?" was the short query, as snappy as her
first greeting had been.

"I am a bit mixed on the roads. There is a split about an eighth of a
mile above here, and I would like to know if this is the regular road,
or if the other road is."

"You're a Yankee officer, I take it."

"I am, madam."

"What company do you belong to?"

"I am captain of the fourth company of the Riverlawn Cavalry, of
Kentucky."

"The Riverlawns!" came in something like a gasp. "Well, I never! Dick!
Dick!"

"Well, Martha, what?" growled the colonel, from an inner room. "Send him
about his business."

"He belongs to the Riverlawns, Dick,--that cavalry--"

"Hush, Martha." There was the stumping of a wooden leg, and Colonel
Bradner appeared. "So you belong to the Riverlawns, Captain? Come in, I
would like to talk to you."

"I haven't much time to talk, sir," answered Artie. "I must be on my
way. If you will tell me about the roads--"

"In a minute, Captain, in a minute. But I would like a little
information myself--about the Riverlawns."

"Yes, we want to know all about them," put in Mrs. Bradner. "My
brother--"

"Martha, do let me do the talking," interrupted the colonel, with a
significant look behind Artie's back which the captain failed to catch.
"Walk into the sitting room, where there is a small fire. I can't go
without some fire on a damp day, even in June. The rheumatism is too
bad in my poor stumps. Come in."

The colonel led the way, and Artie followed, although the delay was not
to his taste. Yet he was curious to learn what his host wanted to know
concerning the cavalry his father (so called) commanded. Perhaps the
lady's brother belonged to one of the companies, despite the fact that
she was a Tennesseean.

The sitting room was a cheerful place, and the fire felt decidedly
comfortable, and Artie wished he was not in a hurry. Colonel Bradner
shoved a cane rocker toward him, and sank down on a lounge. Feeling that
his wet clothing would not