thinking of his dear father, as he always did when he heard war-news.
But at last remembering that his grandfather would be anxious to have
the daily paper, he started for home, though rather against his will.

"I never did see such a fuss as they make," thought he, "if anybody's
more'n a minute going to the office and back."

"Is this all?" said aunt Madge, as Horace gave a letter to grandma, one
to aunt Louise, and the paper to his grandfather.

"Why, yes, ma'am, that's all," replied Horace, faintly. It did seem, to
be sure, as if Mr. Pope had given him three letters; but as he could not
find another in his pocket, he supposed he must be mistaken, and said
nothing about it. He little knew what a careless thing he had done, and
soon went to bed, forgetting post-offices and letters in a strange
dream of little Wampum, who had a bridle on and was hitched to a post;
and of the Indian girl's ear-rings, which seemed to have grown into a
pair of shining gold muskets.

A few mornings after the mistake about the letter, Mrs. Clifford sat
mending Horace's raglan. She emptied the pockets of twine, fish-hooks,
jack-knife, pebbles, coppers, and nails; but still something rattled
when she touched the jacket; it seemed to be paper. She thrust in her
finger, and there, between the outside and lining, was a crumpled, worn
letter, addressed to "Miss Margaret Parlin."

"What does this mean?" thought Mrs. Clifford. "Horace must have carried
the letter all summer."

But upon looking at it again, she saw that it was mailed at Washington
about two weeks before--"a soldier's letter." She carried it down to
Margaret, who was busy making cream-cakes.

"Let me see," said aunt Louise, peeping over Mrs. Clifford's shoulder,
and laughing. "No, it's not Mr. Augustus Allen's writing; but how do you
know somebody hasn't written it to tell you he is sick?"

Aunt Madge grew quite pale, dropped the egg-beater, and carried the
letter into the nursery to read it by herself. She opened it with
trembling fingers; but before she had read two lines her fingers
trembled worse than ever, her heart throbbed fast, the room seemed to
reel about.

There was no bad news in the letter, you may be sure of that. She sat
reading it over and over again, while the tears ran down her cheeks, and
the sunshine in her eyes dried them again. Then she folded her hands
together, and humbly thanked God for his loving kindness.

When she was sure her sister Maria had g