oming to supper, and one of them draws and the other has a voice like
an angel, and my silk dress is almost as good as new, I can't be
terribly unhappy, mother!"

Margaret Cleave laughed. "I don't want you to be! I am not 'terribly'
unhappy myself--despite those poor, poor boys in the warehouse! I am
thankful about Will and I am thankful about Richard, and war is war, and
we must all stand it. We must stand it with just as high and exquisite a
courage as we can muster. If we can add a gaiety that isn't thoughtless,
so much the better! We've got to do it for Virginia and for the
South--yes, and for every soul who is dear to us, and for ourselves!
I'll lace your silk dress, and I'll play Mr. Fairfax's accompaniments
with much pleasure--and to-morrow we'll come back to the warehouse with
a full basket! I wish the coffee was not getting so low."

A soldier, a staff officer equipped for the road, came rapidly up the
brick sidewalk, overtook the two, and spoke their names, holding out his
hand. "I was sure 'twas you! Nowadays one meets one's world in no matter
how unlikely a place! Not that Winchester is an unlikely place--dear and
hospitable little town! Nor, perhaps, should I be surprised. I knew that
Captain Cleave was in the Stonewall Brigade." He took the basket from
Miriam and walked beside them.

"My youngest son has been ill," said Margaret. "He is in the 2d. Kind
friends took him home and cared for him, but Miriam and I were unhappy
at Three Oaks. So we closed the house and came."

"Will always was a baby," volunteered Miriam. "When the fever made him
delirious and they thought he was going to die, he kept calling for
mother, and sometimes he called for me. Now he's better, and the sister
of a man in his mess is reading 'Kenilworth' aloud to him, and he's
spoiled to death! Richard always did spoil him--"

Her mother smiled. "I don't think he's really spoiled; not, that is, by
Richard.--When did you come to town, Major Stafford?"

"Last night," answered Stafford. "From General Loring, near Monterey. I
am the advance of the Army of the Northwest. We are ordered to join
General Jackson, and ten days or so should see the troops in Winchester.
What is going to happen then? Dear madam, I do not know!"

Miriam chose to remain petulant. "General Jackson is the most dreadful
martinet! He drills and drills and drills the poor men until they're too
tired to stand. He makes people get up at dawn in December, and he won't