"Very well," answered Virgie's mother, a shadow creeping into her face as she went on toward the house. Could Uncle Billy possibly be leaving! The most trusted negro of all! No—never! She would almost as soon doubt the cause itself!
Three long years ago war had seemed a thrilling, daring necessity. Caught in the dreadful net of circumstance she had vowed proudly in her own heart never to be less brave than the bravest. In her ears still rang the echo of that first ...
Tara-tara!
From far away a faint fanfare of trumpets, borne on brazen wings from the distant clamor of the city's streets.
Tara-tara!
"What's that—a bugle?"
R-r-r-r-rum-dum!
"And that—a drum?"
Tramp—tramp—tramp—the rolling thunder of ten thousand feet.