long in time of war."

I was amused at the earnestness with which she looked at me, apparently
weighing my words as soberly as though they had important meaning.

"What's the trouble? If there is any prevaricating to be done, turn it
over to me--I have become an expert."

"No doubt," her face brightening, "but I must attend to this case
myself. Judge Moran will have to suppose you a Confederate spy. No, not
a word of protest will I listen to. If you go along with me, it must be
exactly as I say; there is no other way, for otherwise he would never
receive you into the house."

"Oh, very well," I replied indifferently, my eyes marking the swift
approach of that distant squad of cavalry. "The masquerade will be
short, and well worth while if it only earns me a breakfast with you."

The toss of her head was hardly complimentary. We were in the tree-lined
streets by this time, and suddenly she wheeled the pony in through an
open gate-way. The house was large, painted white, of distinctly
Southern architecture, the broad stone steps surmounted by rounded
pillars. On the porch a man sat smoking. He arose instantly, hat in
hand, and came down to meet us. His was a tall, slender, slightly
stooped figure, a finely chiselled face, the hair and beard white. His
eyes, apparently as keen as ever, instantly recognized the girl, his
stern features relaxing into a smile of welcome.

"I am surprised and pleased to greet you, Miss Willifred," cordially
bowing over her extended hand. "'Tis a long while since we have seen