till
waters. She prayed that the "grave and beautiful damsel called
Discretion" might take her by the hand and lead her to that "upper
chamber, whose name is Peace." She lay awake, listening to the music
from the barn, and waiting through breathless silences for it to begin
again. She wondered if Fanny Jordan had grown any prettier since she
had seen her as a half-grown girl; and then she despised herself for
the thought. The katydids seemed to beat their wings upon her brain,
and all the noises of the night, far and near, came to her strained
senses, as if her silent chamber were a whispering gallery. The clock
struck twelve, and in the silence that followed she missed the music;
but voices, talking and laughing, were coming down the lane. There was
the clink of a horse's hoof on the stones; now it was lost on the turf;
and now they were all trooping noisily past the house. She buried her
head in her pillow, and tried to bury with it the consciousness that
she was wondering if Evesham were there, laughing with the rest.

Yes, Evesham was there. He walked with Farmer Jordan, behind the young
men and girls, and discussed with him, somewhat absently, the war news
and the prices of grain.

As they passed the dark old house, spreading its wide roofs, like a hen
gathering her chickens under her wing, he became suddenly silent. A
white curtain flapped in and out of an upper window. It was the window
of the boys' room; but Evesham's instincts failed him there.

"Queer kinks them old Friend preachers git into their heads sometimes!"
said farmer Jordan, as they passed the empty mill. "Now what do you
s'pose took Uncle Tommy Barton off right on top of plantin', leavin'
his wife 'n' critters 'n' child'en to look after themselves? Mighty
good preachin' it ought to be, to make up for such practicin'.
Wonderful set ag'in the war, Uncle Tommy is! He's a-preachin' up peace
now. But Lord! all the preachin' sence Moses won't keep men from
fightin' when their blood's up and there's ter'tory in it!"

"It makes saints of the women," said Evesham shortly.

"Wal, yes! Saints in heaven before their time, some of 'em. There's
Dorothy, now. _She'll_ hoe her row with any saint _in_ the kingdom or
out of it. I never see a hulsomer-lookin' gal. My Luke, he run the
furrers in her corn-patch last May. Said it made him sick to see a gal
like that a-staggerin' after a plow. She wouldn't more'n _half let_
him! She's a proud little piece. They're al