Cary, returning, waved Sally Ann back to her post. "That's right," he laughed. "You're a good sentry, Sally Ann. Go back and watch again. Scoot!"
"Herbert," and his wife stood before him. "Come into the house and let me give you something to eat."
For answer Cary gently imprisoned her face in his hands. "Honey, I can't," he said, his eyes grown sad again. "Just fix me up something—anything you can find. I'll munch it in the saddle."
For a moment their lips clung and then she stepped back with a broken sigh. "I'll do the best I can, but oh! how I wish it all were over and that we had you home again."
A spasm crossed the man's face. "It soon will be over, sweetheart. It soon will be."
His wife flung him a startled look. "You mean—Oh, Herbert! Isn't there a single hope—even the tiniest ray?"
Cary took her hands in his, looked into her eyes and his answer breathed the still unconquered spirit of the South. "There is always hope—as long as we have a man." Mrs. Cary went into the house, slowly, wearily, and Cary turned to Virgie.
"Well, little lady," her father said, resting his hand on Virgie's shining head. "Have you been taking good care of mother—and seeing that Uncle Billy does his plowing right?"
"Yes, sir," came the prompt response. "Susan Jemima an' me have been lookin' after everything—but we had to eat up General Butler!"
"General Butler," cried her father, astounded.