certainly, is a matter which we cannot talk about."

"Pardon, but your reference to him made it natural--"

"There is no need of speaking of him," she interrupted, coldly. "I
merely meant that he and those with him in what you slightingly term
an unpleasantness can never be friendly to you. This war may be a
small thing to you, but suppose your home and family were in danger,
as ours are?"

"Can you think that this war is a holiday to me?" he asked, gravely.
"What stands between me now and death--perhaps a shameful and
horrible death--except your kindly, womanly impulses? I am hourly in
danger of being caught and treated as a spy."

"Oh, I didn't realize it," said the girl, simply and kindly.
"Everything looks so quiet and lovely. Aun' Jinkey, there, my old
mammy, is at work just as I have seen her for years, and Chunk is
busy yonder in the garden. It is hard to think how suddenly all
might change."

"A soldier must think and be prepared."

"Have you no fear?"

"Life is sweet to me. I know only one thing--I must do my duty and
trust in God. I have the consolation that no one is dependent on me;
no one would grieve for me very much. I'm quite alone in the world.
My crusty old guardian would inherit my property, and you may well
guess that Aunt Jinkey's tub yonder would hold all his tears if I