ne, I'll want to go too, for I'll be all alone in the
world. Don't take Rena, John; for if you do, I'll never see her again,
an' I can't bear to think of it. How would you like to lose yo'r one
child?"

"Well, well, mother, we'll say no more about it. And now tell me all
about yourself, and about the neighbors, and how you got through the
war, and who's dead and who's married--and everything."

The change of subject restored in some degree Mis' Molly's equanimity,
and with returning calmness came a sense of other responsibilities.

"Good gracious, Rena!" she exclaimed. "John 's be'n in the house an
hour, and ain't had nothin' to eat yet! Go in the kitchen an' spread a
clean tablecloth, an' git out that 'tater pone, an' a pitcher o' that
las' kag o' persimmon beer, an' let John take a bite an' a sip."

Warwick smiled at the mention of these homely dainties. "I thought of
your sweet-potato pone at the hotel to-day, when I was at dinner, and
wondered if you'd have some in the house. There was never any like
yours; and I've forgotten the taste of persimmon beer entirely."

Rena left the room to carry out her hospitable commission. Warwick,
taking advantage of her absence, returned after a while to the former
subject.

"Of course, mother," he said calmly, "I wouldn't think of taking Rena
away against your wishes. A mother's claim upon her child is a high
and holy one. Of course she will have no chance here, where our story
is known. The war has wrought great changes, has put the bottom rail
on top, and all that--but it hasn't wiped THAT out. Nothing but death
can remove that stain, if it does not follow us even beyond the grave.
Here she must forever be--nobody! With me she might have got out into
the world; with her beauty she might have made a good marriage; and, if
I mistake not, she has sense as well as beauty."

"Yes," sighed the mother, "she's got good sense. She ain't as quick as
you was, an' don't read as many books, but she's keerful an'
painstakin', an' always tries to do what's right. She's be'n thinkin'
about goin' away somewhere an' tryin' to git a school to teach, er
somethin', sence the Yankees have started 'em everywhere for po' white
folks an' niggers too. But I don't like fer her to go too fur."

"With such beauty and brains," continued Warwick, "she could leave this
town and make a place for herself. The place is already made. She has
only to step into my carriage--after perhaps a lit