"I shall want you to tell me exactly how it looked—you can remember?"
"Why, yes, chile!" Sally's hand paused, spoon in air. "I can see it same as it was yesterday. That-er Yankee man they called Sheridan—he passed up by The Way an' he stopt right on the home-place o' Stoneledge, an' General Walden he was there, an' old Miss, an' lil' Miss Ann—she was right little an' young then but mighty peart. I was stayin' at the Great House then, fo' it was near the time when lil' Miss Queenie was goin' ter be born—her as died up Norf at a horse-pittal. Well, that-er-Yankee Sheridan he don' say to General Walden, 'We-all is near starvin'.' Jes' like a-that! An' General Walden he don' say, standin' upperty an' mighty, 'We-all will share with yo', general, bein' war is war.' Then what-er-yo' think? Lil' Miss Ann she pearked up an' says right to his face: 'Yo' can't have Anna Isabel!' She never batted an eye when she spoke up, an' I thought I'd bust. The Yankee he don' ax who Anna Isabel was, an' lil' Miss Ann said right stiff, 'She be my turkey—she be our Christmas dinner.' An' jes' then Anna Isabel stalked straight-er-way befo' dat man Sheridan an' lil' Miss Ann pointed an' says 'There's Anna Isabel!' Well, we-all laughed an' I will say this for that Yank, he was powerful 'spectful to us-all. 'I'm bleeged to come in an' res' an' have a meal,' he don' said, and then he went on with his pack totin' at his heels.
"Fo' de Lord, Sandy Morley, shet off that snortin', roarin' fire or I'll fetch yo' a real old-time lick!"
Sandy ran to regulate the dampers, his face radiant and boyish. He was enjoying, as he never had enjoyed anything in his life before, the dear home-atmosphere of his hills.
Sally Taber returned to her task with energy born of appreciation.
"We'll fix the old house of Stoneledge up in great shape," Sandy said, coming back to the table and leaning forward on his hands to follow Sally's energetic manipulation of the gingerbread; "that ought to be something for the rest of us to live up to. I'd like to see little Miss Cynthia installed there as mistress!"
"Her ain't of the Walden blood——" Sally remarked, breathlessly beating the golden brown batter. Sandy winced. "But her has caught the manners."
"And," Sandy steered away from the danger ground, "we'll have the Home-school. It must be a home first; a school afterward, Sally. I want the baby-things to have the 'lickings' of cakes and puddings in the kitchen—it is to be a great, big, sunny kitchen! And I want them to have bedtime stories and soft songs." Sandy's eyes, tender and luminous, looked beyond Sally and rested on the gentle slope of Lost Mountain. "I want them to have what every child has a right to and which our children have never had."
Sally was thoughtfully baling the light cake into the long, shallow tins:
"I clar' I don't know," she muttered, "how Smith Crothers is goin' to 'commodate hisself to yo'!" Then she shivered and stood upright, her nostrils sniffing and her eyes alert like a deer in the wilds. "I don' thought," she murmured, "dat I heard a step and saw a shadder fallin'! Seems like the wind is changin', fetchin' chill an' storm!"