The master of Grey Pine said, "Nice young man! Ann ought to kill the fatted calf. Tell John not to be late for dinner."
"It is all right, James," said Mrs. Ann, "all right."
Rivers watched with pain the vacant face of the Colonel. This mental failure constantly recalled the days of anguish when with despair he had seen all who were dear to him one after another die mentally before their merciful exit from life.
"John must be tired," he said. Leila, who noted on the young soldier's face the effect of sudden realization of his useless state said, "Your room is ready, John."
"Yes," said John, "I should like to rest before dinner."
With a word as to the fatigue of his journey, Leila followed him into the well-remembered hall.
"Good heavens, Leila. It seems an age since I was here. Send up Josiah.
I am like a baby and need him to help me."
She looked after him pitifully as he went up the stairs. "Surely," she thought, "we have paid dearly our debt to the country."
He came down at six o'clock, still in his undress uniform, but thinking that his aunt would not like it. In a day or two he would have the civilian clothes he had ordered in Philadelphia. He need have had no such anxiety; she was indifferent to all but her husband, who sat at table speechless, while Leila and John too consciously manufactured talk of the home and the mills—and the ending of the war. After the meal Ann began her patient efforts to interest the Colonel with a game of cards and then of backgammon. It seemed only to make him irritable, and he said at last, "I think I must go to bed."
"Certainly, dear." She went with him upstairs, saying, "Good-night, children."