Betsy informed them:

"The boy had jes' romped until he was most naked. They didn't want to
send to town for clothes for him, so Lacy and her jes' banded together
and made him the suit. They had plenty of time and they concluded to
make him a suit different from any other boy's. And it warn't much
trouble to trim it up and make it nice rather than to make it plain. It
took two days more to trim it than it did to make it."

Lin told the good, honest soul they could not think of Alfred wearing
the clothes every day in town. "We'll keep 'em off him 'til the next
battle and when the peepul are all sad over their friends that's been
killed, we'll dress him up and send him down the street."

Many years afterwards, the writer, rummaging through the garret of the
old home, the odd garments fashioned by Lacy Hare and Aunt Betsy were
discovered. Recollections of the mirth they aroused when first brought
to the notice of the family, prompted the carrying of the old musty
outfit to the sitting room below.

But somehow the odd looking suit failed to excite any merriment. It was
rather regarded with reverence. The sight of it sent the thoughts of all
traveling back to other and happier days. The mother thought of those
whose kindly hands had fashioned the fantastic garments; of an elder
sister who had filled a mother's place in the family. She remembered a
happy home, its like unknown in all the country about, where hospitality
was liberally dispensed, visitors always welcome. She thought of the
first wife's passing, the coming of another to the big house. The
lowering of the family name by the second marriage. The shunning of the
old home by friends and relatives; of the rapid decline of the master;
evil associates whom he preferred to those who had honored and loved
him; the estrangement of family and friends.

In her mind she could see in him a bent old man, prematurely old,
leaving his home to seek shelter with strangers, lost to the sight of
former friends, his whereabouts known only when the final summons came
to him; his identity made known by his last request:

"I have left money with George Gallagher to bury me. Bury me beside
Betsy."

And in her mind she saw two graves side by side, one with a marker
reading "My Beloved Wife," the other unmarked.

The mother softly said as she folded the coat and nether garments:

"Put them away again."

CHAPTER SEVEN

Backward, turn backward, oh, time in your flight,