Mor. [R. C.] Good morning, sister! Where is my little darling Alice?
Anas. Out in the garden with her mother and Hilda.
Mor. [Anxiously.] I am almost afraid to let them venture out of the house for fear there might be some rebels lurking in the neighborhood.
Anas. [Drops knitting and rises.] Good gracious, brother Morris! There is no danger of the fighting coming so close?
Mor. It is hard to tell how it will be. Warfare is very uncertain, although I do not think there is any immediate danger. The rebels are fleeing towards the north-west, out of our track entirely. The Union forces are but six miles to our west.
Anas. What if they should turn back? What will become of us?
Mor. True; but I believe the greatest danger is past! The rebels have a determined pursuer, who will not be forced back. Grant is not the man to acknowledge defeat. He has entered the fight to win, and I have faith in him to believe that he will not turn his back upon the rebels until he has forced them to submission.
Anas. Just to think that we might all have been shot and cut up—ugh! It makes my blood run cold.
Mor. But the danger is not entirely over. The enemy is getting desperate. Their supplies are cut off, and I fear some depredation from foraging parties. I must caution them not to go out of sight of the house, and not to allow Alice out of hearing. It would tear my heart-strings should harm come to my darling little Alice.
Anas. Bless the sweet child! How she does grow. Ah! brother, she looks more and more like our poor lost Alice every day.