After supper Bob set off some modest fireworks that he had purchased a few days before--two or three rockets, a dozen Roman candles, some pin wheels and giant crackers. And so, as darkness descended, the Bannister family found some little consolation, some little relief from the nervous strain of the last few days, in the temporary pleasure of illuminated patriotism. Yet, through it all, there was anxiety and apprehension. Wrought up by music and oratory and fireworks and news of victories, there was no telling what excesses the ultra-patriotic, irrepressible young people of the village might indulge in at the expense of a hated copperhead. Every noise from the direction of the town, every sound of hoofbeats on the highway, of footfalls on the side path, sent a thrill to the nerves and a chill to the heart of Mary Bannister. But, as the evening wore on without incident, she began to feel a measure of relief. Then the gate-latch clicked and some one entered the yard and started up the path toward the house. But the suspense of uncertainty lasted only for a moment, for the heavy strokes of the cane on the walk, and the uncertain footsteps, announced the approach of their next neighbor to the east, Seth Mills. He was cordially greeted and invited to a seat on the porch. “I’ve just heard,” he explained, “what happened up-town to-day, an’ I thought I’d come over an’ tell ye--” “Mary,” said Bannister, “don’t you think you had better take Louise up to bed? It’s getting quite late. You may stay, Robert, if you wish.” And when the woman and child had said good-night and had gone, he turned to his visitor and continued: “Pardon me for interrupting you, Seth; but you see they don’t know, and I thought it was hardly worth while to have their feelings worked up over it.” “Jest so! Jest so!” responded the old man. “Protect the women and children. That’s what I say. But they wasn’t much I wanted to tell ye, Rhett, only that, accordin’ to my views, they didn’t treat ye right, an’ I’m sorry for it. They ort to be ashamed of it themselves. Mebbe they will be when they’ve hed time to think it over. Me an’ you don’t agree in politics, Rhett, nor about the war, but that ain’t no reason why we shouldn’t treat each other decent. That’s what I say.” “And you are right about it, Seth. But I believe that you and I are the only two men in this community who could discuss their political differences without passion. You are of Kentucky ancestry, I am of South Carolinian. These other people here are either of the domineering Yankee type, or else are descended from the stubborn Pennsylvania settlers. Perhaps that accounts for their lack of fairness and reason. I have often wondered how Abraham Lincoln, with his Virginia ancestry, his Kentucky birth, and his western training, could be so narrow, so illogical, so illiberal, so utterly heartless as he has shown himself to be.”