It was Dorothy’s turn to advise and lead now. With all the courage and hope of youth she began to take charge of the place. With the help of the others she managed to keep up part of the farm, and from one end to the other she rode daily on her horse, sometimes with saddle, sometimes bareback. A new fear was beginning to grow in her heart. Every dollar on earth possessed by both her father and Mr. Tayloe had been invested in Confederate bonds, and she knew that very soon their purchasing value would be of little account. That they should ever suffer she did not allow herself to think; but it was necessary to husband every resource, and every energy must be bent toward keeping from Bobbie’s mother as long as possible the seriousness of the situation. Life was by no means now a thing of ease or pleasure to Dorothy. The days became weeks, and the weeks months, and the months were becoming years, and the clouds which at first they thought would be but temporary, were continually growing blacker and heavier, with never a sign of lifting. It was not until the Christmas of ’63 that any real alarm, however, was actually felt as to the outlook. By a long-planned and well-timed scheme Mr. Tayloe, who now through successive ranks had been promoted to that of colonel, and Dr. Trevillian, now a surgeon-in-chief, had managed to get leave for a two days’ visit home, the first they had been able to make together since they entered the service. Bobbie’s movements were uncertain. He would be there, he wrote, were it a matter of possibility, but he might be kept for some special duty. He had managed to run in for a day or so at intervals of every few months, and consequently was better prepared for the present condition of things than were the others. All through the three long years there never had been a time when it was possible for him and Dorothy to be married. When he was at home, her father and his were away, and he could never induce her to marry him unless all were there. Every effort was made to make this Christmas a memorable one. Mrs. Tayloe’s happiness at having her husband home once more gave her a fresh measure of strength, and the very best that had been carefully saved and hoarded for many months past was now made into the good things of former Christmas times; and though Dorothy knew they would have to stint for months to come, yet she never let any one but Sallie Tom realize how reckless it all was. Sallie Tom’s joy at having once more a pretence of Christmas festivities made itself known by her own peculiar way of snorting as she prepared the various dishes that were best liked by the master and the Doctor, to say nothing of those she surreptitiously made for Bobbie, in case he should come. That he would come, she never doubted, and all day long on Christmas-eve she had her ears, as well as her eyes, open to catch the first sound of his horse’s hoofs on the frozen ground outside.