"But what have you here--a Yankee?"

"So far as uniform goes, yes," she answered lightly, descending over the
wheel, and adroitly dodging a direct reply. "But all things are not as
they seem, outwardly. Surely, Judge, you do not suppose I would ever
harbor one of the enemy? If I vouch for the gentleman it should be
sufficient."

He took my hand cordially enough, yet with a question still in his keen
old eyes.

"I am glad to know you, sir. Any friend of Miss Willifred's is a friend
of mine, but I'm damned if I like that color."

"The nature of my mission makes it necessary," I explained.

"Exactly, sir, exactly; I understand perfectly. Alight, and come in, but
you wear the first Yankee uniform ever welcomed to my house. Come right
along, both of you. I've got one servant left, who will attend
the pony."

Twenty minutes later we were breakfasting together in a cool, spacious
room the windows of which opened upon the porch. The judge, after
satisfying himself that we were being well served, had disappeared,
leaving us alone. It was a beautiful morning, the birds singing outside,
the sunlight sifting through the branches of the great oaks shading the
windows. Not a sound, other than the rustling of leaves, broke the
silence. My companion appeared disinclined to talk, her eyes turned away
from me. The constraint became so marked I endeavored to start
conversation, but with poor result.