trees
festooned with gray moss, almost reaching to the ground, swayed to and
fro as a shiver of moaning wind stirred the air.

"I cannot stay here," she exclaimed springing to her feet. "It is better
to keep on walking. Surely there must be a house somewhere near!"

And so, though she was faint from hunger and weary from walking, she
trudged on. Presently the moon came up and deluged the forest with a
shining flood of light. The dark pines, half in shadow, half in sheen,
loomed vast and giant-like on either side of the gleaming path beneath.

Afraid to stop and rest, Jeanne walked on and on. All at once she heard
singing. The sound filled her with new life and she hastened eagerly
in its direction. Louder and louder came the melody to her ears until
presently she was able to distinguish the words:

"'Do they miss me at home,
Do they miss me?
'Twould be an assurance most dear,
To know at this moment some lov'd one
Were saying, "I wish he were here";
To feel that the group at the fireside
Were thinking of me as I roam;
Oh, yes, 'twould be joy beyond measure
To know that they miss me at home,
To know that they miss me at home.'"

Tears rushed into the girl's eyes and a sob broke from her lips. "Do they
miss me, I wonder?" she said brokenly. "Oh, mother, mother! How little
do you think that I am wandering about in the woods without a place to
lay my head. Mother, mother!"

"'Do they set me a chair near the table,
When evening's home pleasures are nigh,
When the candles are lit in the parlor,
And the stars in the calm, azure sky?
And when the good-nights are repeated,
And all lay them down to their sleep,
Do they think of the absent and waft me
A whisper'd "good-night" while they weep?
A whisper'd "good-night" while they weep?'"

Jeanne looked up as the singer came toward her. The bright moonlight fell
full upon him as he paused for a moment to examine the lock of his gun,
and she saw that he was a Confederate soldier on picket duty. He resumed
the song as he swung the gun back to his shoulder.

"He is like Dick," thought the lonely girl. "I am sure that he has a kind
heart, or he would not sing that song. Maybe he has a sister too."

Summoning all her courage she spoke timidly. "Sir," she said.

"Who goes there?" cried the startled picket with an ominous click of his
weapon.

"Just a little girl," answered Jeanne, coming forward i