osted as
a sentinel at some remote spot--far from your comrades; on picket, I
think you call it? (Henry nodded) on a dark night, would you desert your
duty for fear of a goblin!"

"I would die first, Mildred. I would stick it out, if I made an
earthquake by trembling in my shoes."

Mildred laughed.

"And then if a ghost should rise up out of the ground," she continued,
with a mock solemnity of manner.

"I would whistle some tune," interrupted Henry. "That's an excellent way
to keep down fear."

"Shame on you, to talk of fear, brother."

"Only of ghosts, sister, not of men."

"You must cure yourself of this childish apprehension, master."

"And how shall I do so, Mildred? I have heard people say that the
bravest men have been alarmed by spirits."

"You must accustom yourself to midnight hours and dark places, all
alone. Our poor mother taught you this fear."

"I should think of _her_, Mildred, until my heart would burst, and my
cheek grew pale as ashes," said Henry, with an earnest and solemn
emphasis.

"Her spirit, could it rise, would love you, brother; it would never seek
to do you harm," replied Mildred thoughtfully.

"Sister," said Henry, "you came here in sport, but you have made me very
sad."

Mildred walked off a few paces and remained gazing steadfastly over the
parapet. When she looked back she saw Henry approaching her.

"You stoop, brother, in your gait," she said, "that's a slovenly habit."

"It comes, sister, of my climbing these mountains so much. We
mountaineers naturally get a stoop on the hill-sides. But if you think,"
continued Henry, reverting to the subject which had just been broken
off, "it would make me bolder to watch of nights, I should not care to
try it."

"I would have you," said Mildred, "walk your rounds, like a patrole,
through the woods from twelve until two, every night for a week."

"Agreed, sister--rain or shine."

"And then I shall think you completely cured of this unsoldier-like
infirmity, when you are able to march as far as the church, and serve
one tour of duty in the grave-yard."

"By myself?" inquired Henry, with concern.

"You wouldn't have me go with you, brother?"

"I should feel very brave if you did, Mildred; for you are as brave as a
general. But if Stephen Foster will keep in the neighborhood--near
enough to hear my 'All's well'--I think I could stand it out."

"You must go alone," said Mildred, cheerfully, "before I shall think you
fit to b