mind.
Eliphalet, too, had seen them. One was the tall young Captain of
Dragoons, in cavalry boots, and the other a young lady with dark brown
hair, in a lawn dress.

"Just look at them!" cried Miss Belle. "They think they are alone in the
garden of Eden. Virginia didn't use to care for him. But since he's a
captain, and has got a uniform, she's come round pretty quick. I'm
thankful I never had any silly notions about uniforms."

She glanced at Eliphalet, to find that his eyes were fixed on the
approaching couple.

"Clarence is handsome, but worthless," she continued in her sprightly
way. "I believe Jinny will be fool enough to marry him. Do you think
she's so very pretty, Mr. Hopper?"

Mr. Hopper lied.

"Neither do I," Miss Belle assented. And upon that, greatly to the
astonishment of Eliphalet, she left him and ran towards them. "Virginia!"
she cried; "Jinny, I have something so interesting to tell you!"

Virginia turned impatiently. The look she bestowed upon Miss Cluyme was
not one of welcome, but Belle was not sensitive. Putting her arm through
Virginia's, she sauntered off with the pair toward the parade grounds,
Clarence maintaining now a distance of three feet, and not caring to hide
his annoyance.

Eliphalet's eyes smouldered, following the three until they were lost in
the crowd. That expression of Virginia's had reminded him of a time,
years gone, when she had come into the store on her return from Kentucky,
and had ordered him to tell her father of her arrival. He had smarted
then. And Eliphalet was not the sort to get over smarts.

"A beautiful young lady," remarked Mr. Cluyme. "And a deserving one, Mr.
Hopper. Now, she is my notion of quality. She has wealth, and manners,
and looks. And her father is a good man. Too bad he holds such views on
secession. I have always thought, sir, that you were singularly fortunate
in your connection with him."

There was a point of light now in each of Mr. Hopper's green eyes. But
Mr. Cluyme continued:

"What a pity, I say, that he should run the risk of crippling himself by
his opinions. Times are getting hard."

"Yes," said Mr. Hopper.

"And southwestern notes are not worth the paper they are written on--"

But Mr. Cluyme has misjudged his man. If he had come to Eliphalet for
information of Colonel Carvel's affairs, or of any one else's affairs, he
was not likely to get it. It is not meet to repeat here the long business
conversation which followed. Suff