d in a large valise. Towards
sunset, Mis' Molly took off her apron, put on her slat-bonnet,--she was
ever the pink of neatness,--picked her way across the street, which was
muddy from a rain during the day, traversed the foot-bridge that
spanned the ditch in front of the cooper shop, and spoke first to the
elder of the two men working there.

"Good-evenin', Peter."

"Good-evenin', ma'm," responded the man briefly, and not relaxing at
all the energy with which he was trimming a barrel-stave.

Mis' Molly then accosted the younger workman, a dark-brown young man,
small in stature, but with a well-shaped head, an expressive forehead,
and features indicative of kindness, intelligence, humor, and
imagination. "Frank," she asked, "can I git you to do somethin' fer me
soon in the mo'nin'?"

"Yas 'm, I reckon so," replied the young man, resting his hatchet on
the chopping-block. "W'at is it, Mis' Molly?"

"My daughter 's goin' away on the boat, an' I 'lowed you would n' min'
totin' her kyarpet-bag down to the w'arf, onless you'd ruther haul it
down on yo'r kyart. It ain't very heavy. Of co'se I'll pay you fer
yo'r trouble."

"Thank y', ma'm," he replied. He knew that she would not pay him, for
the simple reason that he would not accept pay for such a service. "Is
she gwine fur?" he asked, with a sorrowful look, which he could not
entirely disguise.

"As fur as Wilmin'ton an' beyon'. She'll be visitin' her brother John,
who lives in--another State, an' wants her to come an' see him."

"Yas 'm, I'll come. I won' need de kyart--I'll tote de bag. 'Bout
w'at time shill I come over?"

"Well, 'long 'bout seven o'clock or half pas'. She's goin' on the Old
North State, an' it leaves at eight."

Frank stood looking after Mis' Molly as she picked her way across the
street, until he was recalled to his duty by a sharp word from his
father.

"'Ten' ter yo' wuk, boy, 'ten' ter yo' wuk. You 're wastin' yo'
time--wastin' yo' time!"

Yes, he was wasting his time. The beautiful young girl across the
street could never be anything to him. But he had saved her life once,
and had dreamed that he might render her again some signal service that
might win her friendship, and convince her of his humble devotion. For
Frank was not proud. A smile, which Peter would have regarded as
condescending to a free man, who, since the war, was as good as anybody
else; a kind word, which Peter would have considered offensively
patroni