snapping black eyes, was regarding Watson with an expression of anger.
On the table was an opened letter.

"I am in your power," Watson was saying to the minister.

What had been happening during the half hour which George had devoted to a
nap?

"Poor, dear boy, he's dropped off to sleep," murmured the minister's wife,
when she saw George sink back in his chair. She went into the sitting-room
and returned with a cushion which she proceeded to place under his head.
"He is much too young to go to the war," she said, turning towards
Watson.

"There was no keeping him from going South," answered his companion. "He
would go." Which was quite true.

The minister handed a pipe filled with Virginia tobacco to Watson, and
lighted one for himself.

"It's my only vice," he laughed pleasantly.

"I can well believe you," rejoined the Northerner, as he gratefully
glanced at the spiritual countenance of his host. "Why should this old
gentleman and I be enemies?" he thought. "I wish the war was over, and
that North and South were once more firm friends." He proceeded to light
his pipe.

They began to talk agreeably, and the minister told several quaint stories
of plantation life, while they smoked on, and the women cleared off the
food from the table.

At last there came a knocking at the front door. The host left the
kitchen, went into the hallway, and opened the door. He had a brief parley
with some one; then the door closed, and he reentered the room. Watson
thought he could distinguish the sound of a horse's hoofs as an unseen
person rode away.

"Who's coming to see you this kind of night?" asked the wife. It was a
natural question. It had once more begun to rain; there were flashes of
lightning and occasional rumbles of thunder.

"A note of some kind from Farmer Jason," explained the clergyman. "I hope
his daughter is not sick again."

"Perhaps the horse has the colic," suggested one of the girls, who had
gentle blue eyes like her father's, "and he wants some of your 'Equine
Pills.'"

"Who brought the letter?" enquired the wife.

"Jason's hired man--he said he hadn't time to wait--had to be off with
another letter to Farmer Lovejoy--said this letter would explain
everything."

"Then why don't you open it, pa, instead of standing there looking at the
outside; you act as if you were afraid of it," spoke up the dark-eyed
girl, who was evidently a damsel of some spirit.

"Here, you may read it yourself, Cynthia,