a
litter of pretty white kittens to console her for the loss of Ponto.

One day, when they had been at grandmamma's only a fortnight, Nelly
saw a neighboring farmer drive up to the front gate, and ran gladly to
meet him, for farmer Dale was a cheery old man, who had always seemed
very fond of the child. Now, however, he looked very grave, merely
shaking hands, then bidding Nelly tell her grandmamma that he must see
her at once, "and, Nelly, you need not come back," said he, "I have
business with your grandma." Soon after the farmer drove away, while
grandmamma returned to the house, wearing a very serious face, and
after sitting in the darkened parlor awhile, apparently thinking
deeply, passed slowly into her daughter's room. Then Nelly heard a
faint cry from her mamma, and hurrying into the house, found her
excitedly walking up and down, wringing her hands, and crying, "I must
go to him! I must, I must!" A letter received by farmer Dale from his
son, who was a Confederate soldier, had contained the news that Mr.
Grey was wounded and a prisoner. Just where was unknown, or whether
his wounds were severe or perhaps fatal. This news rendered the poor
wife almost frantic. All night she paced the floor in sleepless agony.
Next day the farmer paid a second visit, and was for a long time
closeted with the distressed ladies. Afterward, Mrs. Grey seemed more
restless than before, requiring the constant attention of both
grandmamma and Maum Winnie. Thus a week passed.

Suddenly, one morning farmer Dale again appeared, and this time very
smiling and gracious to Nelly.

"Chatterbox," said he, "how would you like to ride home with me and
stay awhile, until your mother gets better? You can run about over
there, and make all the noise you want to; nobody will mind it."

Nelly could not tell whether she would like or not. It was very dull
where she was, but she did not care to leave her poor mamma.
Grandmamma, however, decided the matter by assuring her that Mrs. Grey
needed perfect quiet, and would be better without her. So the little
girl ran off to Maum Winnie to be dressed for her ride.

Arrived at the farm-house, the kindness of the family, and the novelty
of everything she saw, so charmed the child that for a while she was
quite content. Little tasks were, by her own request, assigned to her,
easy and pleasant, but seeming to the child of great consequence. But,
in spite of all, homesickness attacked her; she grew weary of