facing it, and very close together. They
had hold of one another's hands, and quite clearly were dressed better
than they were accustomed to. The man was approaching middle age, and
wore a shiny silk hat, a suit of broadcloth, with a satin vest, and
a heavy silver watch chain. His face was rather strong and hard, and
showed exposure to rough weather. The woman was not so much younger, was
tall and angular, rather uncomfortably conscious of her good clothes,
and had a firm, settled look about her mouth and eyes, which only
partially disappeared in response to the man's persistent endearments.
Still, she seemed more annoyed than he did at the seating of another
party in front of them, whose eyes would be upon them. The man lifted
the things to make room for Shorty, who commented to himself:

"Should think they was bride and groom, if they wasn't so old."

There was a vague hint that he had seen the face somewhere, but he
dismissed it, then settled himself, and, busy with his own thoughts,
pressed his face against the window, and tried to recognize through the
darkness the objects by which they were rushing. They were all deeply
interesting to him, for they were part of Maria's home and surroundings.
After awhile the man appeared temporarily tired of billing and cooing,
and thought conversation with some one else would give variety to the
trip. He opened their lunch-basket, took out something for himself and
his companion to eat, nudged Shorty, and offered him a generous
handful. Shorty promptly accepted, for he had the perennial hunger of
convalescence, and his supper had been interrupted.

"Going back to the army?" inquired the man, with his mouth full of
chicken, and by way of opening up the conversation.

"Um--huh," said Shorty, nodding assent.

"Where do you belong?"

"200th Injianny Volunteer Infantry."

If Shorty had been noticing the woman he would have seen her start, but
would have attributed it to the lurching of the cars. She lost interest
in the chicken leg she was picking, and listened to the continuance of
the conversation.

"I mean, what army do you belong to?"

"Army o' the Cumberland, down at Chattanoogy."

"Indeed; I might say that I belong to that army myself. I'm going down
that way, too. You see, my Congressman helped me get a contract for
furnishing the Army o' the Cumberland with bridge timber, and I'm going
down to Looeyville, and mebbe further, to see about it. We've just come
from St