a tempah in him."

As he passed down the walk there were two mute witnesses to his old
soldier life. A spur gleamed on his boot heel, for he had just returned
from his morning ride, and his right sleeve hung empty.

He had won his title bravely. He had given his only son and his strong
right arm to the Southern cause. That had been nearly thirty years ago.

He did not charge down on the enemy with his usual force this time. The
little head, gleaming like sunshine in the strawberry patch,
reminded him so strongly of a little fellow who used to follow him
everywhere,--Tom, the sturdiest, handsomest boy in the county,--Tom,
whom he had been so proud of, whom he had so nearly worshipped.

Looking at this fair head bent over the vines, he could almost forget
that Tom had ever outgrown his babyhood, that he had shouldered a rifle
and followed him to camp, a mere boy, to be shot down by a Yankee bullet
in his first battle.

The old Colonel could almost believe he had him back again, and that he
stood in the midst of those old days the locusts sometimes whispered
about.

He could not hear the happiest of little voices that was just then
saying, "Oh, Fritz, isn't you glad we came? An' isn't you glad we've got
a gran'fathah with such good 'trawberries?"

It was hard for her to put the "s" before her consonants.

As the Colonel came nearer she tossed another berry into the dog's
mouth. A twig snapped, and she raised a startled face toward him.

"Suh?" she said, timidly, for it seemed to her that the stern, piercing
eyes had spoken.

"What are you doing here, child?" he asked, in a voice so much kinder
than his eyes that she regained her usual self-possession at once.

"Eatin' 'trawberries," she answered, coolly.

"Who are you, anyway?" he exclaimed, much puzzled. As he asked the
question his gaze happened to rest on the dog, who was peering at him
through the ragged, elfish wisps of hair nearly covering its face, with
eyes that were startlingly human.

"'Peak when yo'ah 'poken to, Fritz," she said, severely, at the same
time popping another luscious berry into her mouth. Fritz obediently
gave a long yelp. The Colonel smiled grimly.

"What's your name?" he asked, this time looking directly at her.

"Mothah calls me her baby," was the soft-spoken reply, "but papa an' Mom
Beck they calls me the Little Cun'l."

"What under the sun do they call you that for?" he roared.

"'Cause I'm so much like you," was the startl