ushing the hair from her eyes. She was always a busy
housekeeper.

"We're huntin', ma'am, for a place called Cloptons'," said Mr. Sanders
in a falsetto voice, his hat pulled down over his eyes; "an' we'd thank
you might'ly ef you'd put us on the right road. About four mile back, we
picked up a' old snoozer who calls himself William H. Sanders, an' he
keeps on talkin' about the Clopton Place."

"Why, the Clopton Place is right down the road a piece. What in the
world is the matter wi' old Billy?" she inquired with real solicitude.
"Was he wounded in the war, or is he jest up to some of his old-time
devilment?"

"Well, ma'am, from the looks of the jimmyjon we found by his side, he
must 'a' shot hisself in the neck. He complains of cold feet, an' he's
got 'em stuck out from under the kiver."

"Don't you worry about that," said Mrs. Absalom; "the climate will never
strike in on old Billy's feet till he gits better acquainted wi' soap
an' water."

"An' he talks in his sleep about a Mrs. Absalom," Mr. Sanders went on,
"an' he cries, an' says she used to be his sweetheart, but he had to
jilt her bekaze she can't cook a decent biscuit."

"The old villain!" exclaimed Mrs. Absalom, with well simulated
indignation; "he can't tell the truth even when he's drunk. If he ever
sobers up in this world, I'll give him a long piece of my mind. Jest
drive on the way you've started, an' ef you can keep in the middle of
the road wi' that drunken old slink in the waggin, you'll come to
Cloptons' in a mighty few minutes."

At this juncture Mr. Sanders was obliged to laugh, whereupon, Mrs.
Absalom, looking narrowly at the travellers, had no difficulty in
recognising them. "Well, my life!" she exclaimed, raising her hands
above her head in a gesture of amazement. "Why, that's old Billy, an'
him sober; and Franky Bethune, an' him not a primpin'! Well, well! I'd
'a' never believed it ef I hadn't 'a' seed it. I vow I'm beginnin' to
believe that war's a real good thing; it's like a revival meetin' for
some folks. I'm sorry Ab didn't take his gun an' jine in--maybe he'd 'a'
shed his stinginess. But I declare to gracious, I'm glad to see you all;
the sight of you is good for the sore eyes. An' Frank tryin' to raise a
beard! Well, honey, I'll send you a bottle of bergamot grease to rub on
it."

Mrs. Absalom came out to the waggon and shook hands with the returned
warriors very heartily, and, sharp as her tongue was, there were tears
in her ey