and it seemed hard to realize, looking at him, that, as we heard
afterwards, this man had been wounded and captured in a battle and set
apart to be executed in reprisal. We did not learn that from him, for
he never talked about himself, but from an old army comrade who met
him and was the only man that we boarders ever saw the Major familiar
with. Not that he was distant, but after a gentle smile of salutation
or recognition he never seemed anxious to converse, and like most men,
silence gave him an air of mystery. There were many solutions of the
mystery by the lady boarders, particularly by Mrs. Pointlace, a restless
little widow, who was never at peace unless she was in love with
somebody or somebody was in love with her. Her theory was that the
Major had suffered, at some period or other, a great shock to his
affections--a supposition that failed to find confirmation in the
regular appetite and the eccentric neatness of the person who had
received the shock. Whether the lady's theory was correct or not, none
of us had an opportunity to know, for we would as soon have expected
to see the Major come into the dining-room without his coat as to have
heard him speak of his personal affairs. The widow was a new boarder;
if she had been there as long as the rest of us she would have known
that whatever he might have suffered in the past, the Major's heart
was now full to the brim of affection for a female, and that female
not longer than his arm.

She couldn't have been over three years old, and was the only girl
among four boys, running up like stair steps. I can see her now under
a broad summer hat that would have covered the top of a barrel. The
crown had given away and her little blue eyes would be oftener looking
out through the gap than from under the brim. Her stockings were never
both tied up at the same time, except when her mother turned her over,
fresh dressed, in the morning to the Major, or when she put on her