kward. "W-w-w-work! Y-y-you w-w-work! Wh-wh-why, baby,
what sort o' funny, cuyus way is you a-talkin', anyhow?"

"Many refined women are earning their living in the city, mammy."

"Is you a-talkin' sense, baby, ur is yer des a-bluffin'? Is yer axed yo'
pa yit?"

"I don't think father is well, mammy. He says that whatever I suggest we
will do, and I am _sure_ it is best. We will take a cheap little house,
father and I--"

"Y-y-you an' yo' pa! An' wh-wh-what 'bout me, baby?" Mammy would stammer
when she was excited.

"And you, mammy, of course."

"Umh! umh! umh! An' so we gwine ter trabble! An' de' Onerble Mr.
Citified done closed de morgans on us! Ef-ef I'd 'a' knowed it dis
mornin' when he was a-quizzifyin' me so sergacious, I b'lieve I'd o'
upped an' sassed 'im, I des couldn't 'a' helt in. I 'lowed he was
teckin' a mighty frien'ly intruss, axin' me do we-all's _puck_on-trees
bear big _puck_ons, an'--an' ef de well keep cool all summer, an'--an'
he ax me--he ax me--"

"What else did he ask you, mammy?"

"Scuze me namin' it ter yer, baby, but he ax me who was buried in we's
graves--he did fur a fac'. Yer reckon dee gwine claim de graves in de
morgans, baby?"

Mammy had crouched again at Evelyn's feet, and her eager brown face was
now almost against her knee.

"All the land is mortgaged, mammy."

"Don't yer reck'n he mought des nachelly scuze de graves out'n de
morgans, baby, ef yer ax 'im mannerly?"

"I'm afraid not, mammy, but after a while we may have them moved."

The old bronze clock on the mantel struck twelve.

"Des listen. De ole clock a-strikin' Chris'mas-gif now. Come 'long, go
ter bed, honey. You needs a res', but I ain' gwine sleep none, 'caze all
dis heah news what you been a-tellin' me, hit's gwine ter run roun' in
my head all night, same as a buzz-saw."

And so they passed out, mammy to her pallet in Evelyn's room, while the
sleepless girl stepped to her father's chamber.

Entering on tiptoe, she stood and looked upon his face. He slept as
peacefully as a babe. The anxious look of care which he had worn for
years had passed away, and the flickering fire revealed the ghost of a
smile upon his placid face. In this it was that Evelyn read the truth.
The crisis of effort for him was past. He might follow, but he would
lead no more.

Since the beginning of the war Colonel Brace's history had been the
oft-told tale of loss and disaster, and at the opening of each year
since there had been a