alked together from the road gate toward the
house. Before them, crowning the low hill, showed the white pillars
between oaks where the deep coloured leaves yet clung. The sun was down,
the air violet, the negro children burning brush and leaves in the
hollow behind the house quarter. Halfway to the pillars, there ran back
from the drive a long double row of white chrysanthemums. The three
sisters paused to gather some for the vases.

Unity and Molly gathered them. Judith sat down on the bank by the road,
thick with dead leaves. She drew her scarf about her. Molly came
presently and sat beside her. "Dear Judith, dear Judith!" she said, in
her soft little voice, and stroked her sister's dress.

Judith put her arm about her, and drew her close. "Molly, isn't it as
though the earth were dying? Just the kind of fading light and hush one
thinks of going in--I don't know why, but I don't like chrysanthemums
any more."

"I know," said Molly, "there's a feel of mould in them, and of dead
leaves and chilly nights. But the soldiers are so used to lying out of
doors! I don't believe they mind it much, or they won't until the snow
comes. Judith--"

"Yes, honey."

"The soldiers that I have dreadful dreams about are the soldiers in
prison. Judith, I dreamed about Major Stafford the other night! He had
blood upon his forehead and he was walking up and down, walking up and
down in a place with a grating."

"You mustn't dream so, Molly.--Oh, yes, yes, yes! I'm sorry for him. On
the land and on the sea and for them that are in prison--"

Unity joined them, with her arm full of white bloom. "Oh, isn't there a
dreadful hush? How gay we used to be, even at twilight! Judith, Judith,
let us do something!"

Judith looked at her with a twisted smile. "This morning, very early, we
went with Aunt Lucy over the storeroom and the smoke-house, and then we
went down to the quarter and got them all together, and told them how
careful now we would all have to be with meal and bacon. And Susan's
baby had died in the night, and we had to comfort Susan, and this
afternoon we buried the baby. After breakfast we scraped almost the last
of the tablecloths into lint, and Molly made envelopes, and Daddy Ben
and I talked about shoes and how we could make them at home. Then Aunt
Lucy and I went into town to the hospitals. There is a rumour of
smallpox, but I am sure it is only a rumour. It has been a hard day. A
number of sick were brought in from Fred