le old one-horse wagon driven by a man who lived near the depot.
In it were a boy about Willy's size and an old lady with white hair,
both in deep mourning. The boy was better dressed than any boy they
had ever seen. They were strangers.

The boys touched their limp little hats to the lady, and felt somewhat
ashamed of their own patched clothes in the presence of the
well-dressed stranger. Frank and Willy passed on. They happened to
look back. The wagon stopped just then, and the lady called them:

"Little boys!"

They halted and returned.

"We are looking for my son; and this gentleman tells me that you live
about here, and know more of the country than any one else I may
meet."

"Do you know where any graves is?--Yankee graves?" asked the driver,
cutting matters short.

"Yes, there are several down on the road by Pigeon Hill, where the
battle was, and two or three by the creek down yonder, and there's one
in our garden."

"Where was your son killed, ma'am? Do you know that he was killed?"
asked the driver.

"I do not know. We fear that he was; but, of course, we still hope
there may have been some mistake. The last seen of him was when
General Sheridan went through this country, last year. He was with his
company in the rear-guard, and was wounded and left on the field. We
hoped he might have been found in one of the prisons; but there is no
trace of him, and we fear----"

[Illustration: THE BOYS SELL THEIR CAKES TO THE YANKEES.]

She broke down and began to cry. "He was my only son," she sobbed, "my
only son--and I gave him up for the Union, and----" She could say no
more.

Her distress affected the boys deeply.

"If I could but find his grave. Even that would be better than this
agonizing suspense."

"What was your son's name?" asked the boys, gently.

She told them.

"Why, that's our soldier!" exclaimed both boys.

"Do you know him?" she asked eagerly. "Is--? Is----?" Her voice
refused to frame the fearful question.

"Yes'm. In our garden," said the boys, almost inaudibly.

The mother bent her head over on her grandson's shoulder and wept
aloud. Awful as the suspense had been, now that the last hope was
removed the shock was terrible. She gave a stifled cry, then wept with
uncontrollable grief.

The boys, with pale faces and eyes moist with sympathy, turned away
their heads and stood silent. At length she grew calmer.

"Won't you come home with us? Our father and mother will be so glad t