red
in the room as if to chaperon her mistress. Bartley felt decidedly
uncomfortable. Mima's manners were all that politeness could require,
but he felt as if she resented his coming even to his own, and he knew
that mammy looked upon him as an interloper.

[Illustration: "MAMMY PEGGY CAME MARCHING IN LIKE A GRENADIER."]

Mima kept up well, only the paleness of her face showed what she felt
at leaving her home. Her voice was calm and impassive, only once it
trembled, when she wished that he would be as happy in the house as
she had been.

"I feel very much like an interloper," he said, "but I hope you won't
feel yourself entirely shut out from your beautiful home. My father,
who comes on in a few days is an invalid, and gets about very little,
and I am frequently from home, so pray make use of the grounds when
you please, and as much of the house as you find convenient."

A cold "thank you" fell from Mima's lips, but then she went on,
hesitatingly, "I should like to come sometimes to the hill, out there
behind the orchard." Her voice choked, but she went bravely on, "Some
of my dear ones are buried there."

"Go there, and elsewhere, as much as you please. That spot shall be
sacred from invasion."

"You are very kind," she said and rose to go. Mammy carried away the
tea things, and then came and waited silently by the door.

"I hope you will believe me, Miss Harrison," said Bartley, as Mima
was starting, "when I say that I do not come to your home as a vandal
to destroy all that makes its recollection dear to you; for there are
some associations about it that are almost as much to me as to you,
since my eyes have been opened."

"I do not understand you," she replied.

"I can explain. For some years past my father's condition has kept me
very closely bound to him, and both before and after the beginning of
the war, we lived abroad. A few years ago, I came to know and love a
man, who I am convinced now was your brother. Am I mistaken in
thinking that you are a sister of Philip Harrison?"

"No, no, he was my brother, my only brother."

"I met him in Venice just before the war and we came to be dear
friends. But in the events that followed so tumultuously, and from
participation in which, I was cut off by my father's illness, I lost
sight of him."

"But I don't believe I remember hearing my brother speak of you, and
he was not usually reticent."

"You would not remember me as Bartley Northcope, unless yo