ithout
waiting to replace his writing materials in their proper position.
Through the open door of a small room adjoining, some pieces of bed-room
furniture could be seen, showing that when the invalid wished to find
more complete repose, he could do so without painful removal to any
distance. Close by his side lay a daily newspaper fallen upon the floor,
with the sensation-headings of war-time displayed at the top of one of
the columns; and in his hand he held a palm-leaf fan, with which he had
apparently been trying to wave off some portion of the sultry heat of
the afternoon. At length the fan grew still, the weak hand fell down on
his breast, and he seemed to be dropping away into quiet slumber.

Suddenly a strain of martial music floated through the open windows--at
first low and gentle, then bursting loud and clear, with the rattle of
drums, the screaming of reeds and the clash of cymbals, as a band came
nearer along the avenue and approached the corner of the street. The
invalid's face lit up--he made a motion to rise hastily from the sofa--a
sudden spasm of pain crossed his countenance, and he fell back
exhausted, with a slight cry which instantly brought the sound of
sliding doors between the little back parlor and the large room that
adjoined it in front, and sent a pair of light feet flying into the
room.

"Trying to get up again, eh, old fellow? I know you! Couldn't lie still
when that music was going by! Now you great big boy, you ought to know
better!" Such were the words with which the young girl greeted the
sufferer, as she dropped down on her knees by the side of the sofa and
took one of his hands in both hers.

"Yes, Joe, I _was_ trying to get up and listen to the music," was the
reply. "You know how I have always loved the brass band, and how it
seems to rack my frame even worse than disease, just now! See what a
wreck I am, when I cannot even attempt to rise from the sofa without
screaming in that manner and alarming the house!"

"Oh, never mind alarming the house!" replied the girl, whom he had
called "Joe," the very convenient and popular abbreviation of the
Christian name of Miss Josephine Harris. She was, it may be said here,
an almost every-day visitor from the house of her widowed mother, a lady
in very comfortable circumstances, living not many blocks away up-town
from the residence of the Crawfords. In ordinary seasons Joe and her
mother (the young lady is made to precede the other, advis