reckon she dropped it when she was tellin' me good-bye. Oh, you deah old
dog fo' findin' it."

She laid the glove against her cheek as fondly as if it had been her
mother's soft hand. There was something wonderfully comforting in the
touch.

As they walked slowly back toward the house she rolled it up and put it
lovingly away in her tiny apron pocket.

All that week it was a talisman whose touch helped the homesick little
soul to be brave and womanly.

When Maria, the coloured housekeeper, went into the hall to light the
lamps, the Little Colonel was sitting on the big fur rug in front of the
fire, talking contentedly to Fritz, who lay with his curly head in her
lap.

"You all's goin' to have tea in the Cun'ls room to-night," said Maria.
"He tole me to tote it up soon as he rung the bell."

"There it goes now," cried the child, jumping up from the rug.

She followed Maria up the wide stairs. The Colonel was sitting in a
large easy chair, wrapped in a gaily flowered dressing-gown, that made
his hair look unusually white by contrast.

His dark eyes were intently watching the door. As it opened to let the
Little Colonel pass through, a very tender smile lighted up his stern
face.