us."

"An' _what_ did you do with it, Ethelindy?" her mother asked,
significantly--not for information, but for the renewal of discussion
and to justify the repetition of rebukes. These had not been few.

"You know," the girl returned, sullenly.

"_I_ do," the glib grandmother interposed. "Ye jes' gin we-uns a sniff
an' a sup, an' then ye tuk the kittle that leaks an' shook the rest of
the coffee beans from out yer milk-piggin inter it, an' sot out an'
marched yerself through the laurel--I wonder nuthin' didn't ketch ye!
howsomever naught is never in danger--an' went ter that horspital camp
o' the rebels on Big Injun Mounting--smallpox horspital it is--an' gin
that precious coffee away to the enemies o' yer kentry."

"Nobody comes nor goes ter that place--hell itself ain't so avoided,"
said Mrs. Brusie, her forehead corrugated with sudden recurrence of
anxiety. "Nobody else in this world would have resked it, 'ceptin' that
headin' contrairy gal, Ethelindy Brusie."

"I never resked nuthin'," protested Ethelinda. "I stopped at the head of
a bluff far off, an' hollered down ter 'em in the clearin' an' held up
the kittle. An' two or three rebs war out of thar tents in the
clearin'--thar be a good sight o' new graves up thar!--an' them men war
hollerin' an' wavin' me away, till they seen what I war doin'; jes'
settin' down the kittle an' startin' off."

She gazed meditatively into the fire, of set purpose avoiding the eyes
fixed upon her, and sought to justify her course.

"I knowed ez we-uns hed got used ter doin' 'thout coffee, an' don't feel
the need of it now. We-uns air well an' stout, an' live in our good home
an' beside our own h'a'th-stone; an' they air sick, an' pore, an' cast
out, an' I reckon they ain't ever been remembered before in gifts. An' I
'lowed the coffee, bein' onexpected an' a sorter extry, mought put some
fraish heart an' hope in 'em--leastwise show 'em ez God don't 'low 'em
ter be plumb furgot."

She still gazed meditatively at the fire as if it held a scroll of her
recollections, which she gradually interpreted anew. "I looked back
wunst, an one o' them rebs had sot down on a log an war sobbin' ez ef
his heart would bust. An' another of 'em war signin' at me agin an'
agin, like he was drawin' a cross in the air--one pass down an' then one
across--an' the other reb war jes' laffin' fur joy, and wunst in a while
he yelled out: 'Blessin's on ye! Blessin's! Blessin's!' I dun'no' how
fur I hearn