lf, and to both at the same time. Oh,
yes, Margeret is capable, of course, but she has her hands full to
watch those in the cook house."

Her smile was very bright and contented. It hinted nothing of the
straightened circumstances gradually surrounding them, making a close
watch in all directions absolutely necessary. Affairs were reaching a
stage where money, except in extravagant quantities, was almost
useless. The blockade had raised even the most simple articles to the
price of luxuries. All possessions, apart from their home productions,
must be husbanded to the utmost.

"You are a brave little woman, Miss Gertrude," said the Judge, bowing
before her with a certain reverence. "All the battles of this war are
not fought to the sound of regimental music, and our boys at the front
shoot straighter when they have at home women like you to guard. Our
women of the South are an inspiration--an inspiration!"

No courtier of storied Castile could have rivaled the grace of manner
with which the praise was spoken, so thought Delaven, for all his
mental pictures of Castillian courtesies revealed them as a bit
theatrical, while the Judge was sincerity itself.

As he spoke, the soft sound of wheels was heard in the hall, and
Matthew Loring, in his invalid chair, was rolled slowly out on the
veranda by his man, Ben. Margeret followed with a light robe over her
arm, and a fan.

"Not there, Ben," she said, in the low tone of one giving an order
entirely personal and not intended to be heard by the others, "the
draught does seem to coax itself round that corner, and--"

"Not a bit of it," broke in the master of Loringwood, abruptly. "No
more draught there than anywhere else. It's all right, Ben, wheel me
to that railing."

Margeret silently spread the robe over his knees, laid the fan in his
lap, adjusted the cushion back of his head, and re-entered the house
with a slight gesture to Ben, who followed her.

"She's a puzzle entirely," remarked Delaven, who was watching them
from the rustic seat nearest the steps. Evilena was seated there, and
he stood beside her.

"Margeret? Why?" she asked, in the same low tone.

"I'll tell you. Not thirty minutes ago I told her he could be brought
out and have his chair placed so that the sun would be on his limbs,
but not on his head. Now, what does she do but pilot him out and
discourage him from going to just the corner that was best."

"And you see the result," whispered the girl,