shoulder. "I wasn't but twelve when they met here last time and I
followed all the parades and cried for three solid days. It was
delicious. I'm not mad at any Yankee--I'm in love with a man from Boston
and I'm--oh, please, don't anybody tell I said that! I may not be, I just
think so because he is so good-looking and--"

"We must all go out to the Soldier's Home to-morrow, a large committee,
and take every good thing we can think up and make. We must pay them so
much attention that they will let us make a joke of it," said Mrs.
Matilda thinking immediately of the old fellows who "sat in the
sun"--waiting.

"Yes," answered Mrs. Peyton, "and we must go oftener. We want some more
committees. It won't be many years--two were buried last week from the
Home." There was a moment's silence and the sun streamed in across the
deserted tables.

"Oh," murmured Caroline Darrah Brown with her eyes in a blaze, "I can't
stand it, Phoebe. I never felt so before--I who have no right."

"Dear," said Phoebe with a quiet though intensely sad smile, "this is
just an afterglow of what they must have felt in those awful times. Let's
get them started at the game."

For just a moment longer Phoebe watched them in their heated discussion,
then chose her time and her strong quiet voice commanded immediate
attention.

"Girls," she said, and as she spoke she held out her hand to Mrs. Peyton
Kendrick with an audacious little smile. Any woman from two to sixty