half of it was with David
and the other half with Jonathan, and she worried herself nearly crazy
over the fear that one of her boys might kill the other. And the
fightin' kept on, the battles longer and harder all the
time,--Manassas and Fort Donaldson and Pea Ridge and Mill Spring, and
there was hardly a time when it wasn't Kentuckian against Kentuckian,
and at last come the battle o' Shiloh."

On that fatal word Aunt Jane's voice broke. She turned away from me
and covered her face with her apron, and there was a long pause. The
rains of more than forty springs had cleansed the earth from the taint
of blood; grass and flowers and grain were growing over the old
battle-field; but, like the wand of a wizard, the rusty bayonet had
waved out of sight and out of mind the decades of peace, and her tears
flowed for a grief too deep to be healed by the flight of mortal
years.

Presently, with trembling hands she began arranging the boxes and
bundles on the shelves. There were no unfinished tasks in Aunt Jane's
life; the closet must be cleaned, and a story once begun must be told
to the end. She steadied her voice and went on.

[Illustration: "'DAVID! JONATHAN! MY BOYS! WHERE ARE YOU?'"
_Page 257._]

"You know, honey," she said, "the battle o' Shiloh lasted two days and
the evenin' of the first day a curious thing happened. Mother was
stayin' with me, for Father was with the home gyards, and in them days
the women had to huddle up together and protect each other the best
they could. I was in the kitchen cookin' supper, and Mother was in the
front room sittin' in her old rockin' chair by the winder lookin' out
at the pretty sky, when the sun had about gone down. I could hear
her rockin' and the old chair creakin'. Pretty soon it got so dark I
couldn't see what I was doin', and I lit a candle, and jest as I was
settin' it on the shelf above the table, I heard Mother give a cry and
go runnin' to the front door. I picked up the candle and went out to
see what was the matter, but as I opened the door o' the front room a
gust o' wind blew out the candle, and I run out in the dark, and there
was Mother standin' in the door leanin' forward as if she was lookin'
and listenin', and before I could git to her she rushed out on the
porch and around the house callin' 'David! Jonathan! My boys! Where
are you?'

"I thought certain Mother had lost her mind, and I went after her and
caught her by the arm, and, says I, 'Mother, wha