I had some pay to send
you, but we aren't getting any now. This war's going to be fought
without food or pay. Tell me, Aunt Sairy, just right honestly how you
are getting on. It's getting toward winter. When I say my prayers I pray
now that it won't be a hard winter. A lot of us are praying that. It's
right pitiful, the men with wives and children at home, and the country
growing to look like a desert.--But that's gloomy talk, and if there's
one thing more than another we've got to avoid it's being gloomy!--Tell
me everything when you write. Write to Winchester--that's our base of
supplies and rendezvous now. Tell me about everybody on Thunder Run, but
most of all tell me about yourselves. Give my very best regards to
Christianna. She surely was good to me in Richmond. I don't know what I
would have done without her. At first, before I--"

Sairy put out her hand. "Give it to me, Tom. I'll read the rest. You're
tired."

"No, I'm not," said Tom.--"At first, before I came up with the Army, I
missed her dreadfully."

Sairy rose, stepped from the porch, and turned the drying apples. Coming
back, she touched the girl on the shoulder--very gently. "They're all
fools, Christianna. Once I met a woman who did not know her thimble
finger. I thought that beat all! But it's hard to match the men."

"You've put me out!" said Tom. "Where was I? Oh--At first, before I came
up with the Army, I missed her dreadfully. Billy reminds me of her at
times.--It's near roll call, and I must stop. God bless you both.
Allan."

Tom folded the letter with trembling hands, laid it carefully atop of
the others in the tin box, and took off and wiped his glasses. "Yes, if
a letter didn't come every two weeks I'd go plumb crazy! I've got to
hear him say 'dear Tom' that often, anyhow--"

Christianna rose, pulling her sunbonnet over her eyes. "Thank you, Mrs.
Cole an' Mr. Cole. I thought I'd like to hear. Now I'll be going back up
the mountain. Violetta an' Rosalinda are pulling fodder and mother is
ploughing for wheat. I do the spinning mostly. You've got lovely china
asters, Mrs. Cole. They have a flower they called magnolia down 't
Richmond--like a great sweet white cup, an' they had pink crape
myrtles. I liked it in Richmond, for all the death an' mourning. Thunder
Run's so far away. Good mahnin', Mrs. Cole. Good mahnin', Mr. Cole."

The slight homespun figure disappeared around the bend of the road.
Sairy sewed in silence. Tom went back to th