ix months then," she would say, with
the unearthly light upon her face. "It is almost like living again to hear
you, Major."

"Well, madam, life is a sad affair, but it is the best we've got,"
responded the old gentleman, gravely.

"He loved it," returned Mrs. Ambler, and as the Major rose to go, she
followed him into the hall and inquired if Mrs. Lightfoot had been
successful with her weaving. "She told me that she intended to have her old
looms set up again," she added, "and I think that I shall follow her
example. Between us we might clothe a regiment of soldiers."

"She has had the servants brushing off the cobwebs for a week," replied the
Major, "and to-day I actually found Car'line at a spinning wheel on the
back flagstones. There's not the faintest doubt in my mind that if Molly
had been placed in the Commissary department our soldiers would be living
to-day on the fat of the land. She has knitted thirty pairs of socks since
spring. Good-by, my dear lady, good-by, and may God sustain you in your
double affliction."

He crossed the portico, bowed as he descended the steps, and, mounting in
the drive, rode slowly away upon his dappled mare. When he reached the
turnpike he lifted his hat again and passed on at an amble.

During the next few months it seemed to Betty that she aged a year each
day. The lines closed and opened round them; troops of blue and gray
cavalrymen swept up and down the turnpike; the pastures were invaded by
each army in its turn, and the hen-house became the spoil of a regiment of
stragglers. Uncle Shadrach had buried the silver beneath the floor of his
cabin, and Aunt Floretta set her dough to rise each morning under a loose
pile of kindling wood. Once a deserter penetrated into Betty's chamber, and
the girl drove him out at the point of an old army pistol, which she kept
upon her bureau.

"If you think I am afraid of you come a step nearer," she had said coolly,
and the man had turned to run into the arms of a Federal officer, who was
sweeping up the stragglers. He was a blue-eyed young Northerner, and for
three days after that he had set a guard upon the portico at Uplands. The
memory of the small white-faced girl, with her big army pistol and the
blazing eyes haunted him from that hour until Appomattox, when he heaved a
sigh of relief and dismissed it from his thoughts. "She would have shot the
rascal in another second," he said afterward, "and, by George, I wish she
had."

The Gov