"Have they hurt you, Rosy, darlint?"

"Not them, Jim McGarvy. They have been civil spoke enough. It's you that's
hurt me--you that have gone back on the wife of your bosom an' your own
flesh an' blood."

"Whisht, Rosy, darlint, whisht." He got as close to her as circumstances
would allow. "Them soldiers are our own boys, who are trying to make their
way south, I've jis' had them do all that for a blind, jis' for a blind,
the poor fellers. Sure, an' you know, Rosy, darlint, that Jim McGarvy is
a spotted man, an' the very first one in these parts that the inimy would
go for."

Wondrous the transformation.

"Is that thrue?" she cried, with beaming face, forgetting already the
day's worry, "are they raly our own boys? Sure, an' it's a dolt I am, not
to know what the tallest one meant when he whispered to me:

"When the South is free, I am for Jim McGarvy for any office he wants."

"Whisht, Rosy, darlint, birds of the air carry tidings; but come along now
and get us a hot supper, and a good one too to stay our stomachs, for I've
got to carry the boys further on their way to-night, the holy Mither of
God bless 'em!"

Now I am going to tell you how Roberta kept her promise about taking care
of the soldier boy's gun. Not many weeks after that memorable Fourth,
Squire came home in great excitement, saying the soldiers were searching