Miss Lowndes laughed. “Bless you, child, I have been used to that kind of talk all my life. I wonder what we’d better do with him. With that wound on his head he shouldn’t be on the road by himself. I’ll find out where his regiment is, and Marcus can take him on; that will be best.” This was done, but it was not the last of Gus Fitchett, for in a few days he turned up again at the canteen. “Well, Gus,” said Miss Lowndes, recognizing him, “you’re not lost again, are you?” Gus grinned. “No, miss, I ain’t los’ dis time, I comes on a purpose. De cunnel, he say I ain’t fittin’ to be roun’ de mess, an’ he say I bettah lay by a few days, gimme leave, he say. He axes me does I wanter go to a res’ hospital, I says no, I doesn’t. He axes me whar does I wanter go, an’ I says ef hit jes de same to him I comes back whar dey talks lak I kin unnerstan’ ’em. He say whar dat. I say whar dat canteen are an’ dem nice Ferginny ladies, dat little specially one what got a muvver name o’ Randolph.” “Well, Gus, we’ll have to fix you up,” said Miss Lowndes. “You’ll have to have a place to sleep.” “I sleeps anywhar, on de flo’, in de barn, out o’ doors. Don’ mek no decrimination to me, no, miss, not a bit of decrimination.” Miss Lowndes bit her lip and told him she would see that a place was found for him, for which interest he was grateful accordingly. “Whar dat young lady live what bring me here?” he asked after partaking of the coffee Miss Lowndes offered him. “Miss Lucie Du Bois? Why do you want to know?” “Well, miss, she mighty nice an’ kin’, an’ I thinkin’ maybe I kin do some chores fo’ huh.” “But you are away on sick leave; you shouldn’t be doing any work.” “Doctah he say fo’ me to git outen de trenches an’ into de open a’r whar de guns isn’t so rambuctious. He don’t say nothin’ bout me doin’ little easy chores lak totin’ watah an’ fetchin’ in de wood.” “Very well, Gus, if that is the way you feel about it, Miss Du Bois lives beyond the church. I will show you. When you leave her come back here to me and by that time I will have found a place for you.” She watched him on his way down the street, then she turned to Mrs. Graves. “I didn’t believe there was one of his variety left. He is an old timer. I’ll venture to say he was brought up by a grandmother of the good old sort.” In which conjecture she was perfectly right. Lucie, working in the garden, was surprised to hear a soft voice at her side saying: “Miss Lucie, ain’t dey nothin’ I kin do fo’ yuh?” Lucie looked up to see the tall form of the darkey. “Why, Gus,” she exclaimed. “How is it you are here?” Gus explained, ending by saying: “’Pears to me lak it mo’ lak home folks when yo ma come fum ole Ferginny.” “Are you homesick, Gus?” Lucie asked sympathetically. “Well, Miss Lucie, I mought be ef I was by mahse’f with dese yer Frenchies, but bein’ as I’m hyar I ain’t.”