The two moved with naturalness among their fellows, going to and fro on various errands. When all were accomplished they went for dinner to a fair pillared house of old friends on the outskirts of town. Dinner was the simplest of meals and all were women who sat at table. They talked of the last-received letters, the latest papers, the news of recent movements, battles, defeats, victories, hardships, triumphs,—Averell’s raid in western Virginia, the cavalry fighting near the White Sulphur, the night attack on Fort Sumter, the fighting in Arkansas, the expected great battle in Tennessee. The one-course dinner over, they sat for an hour in the cool, deep parlour, where they took up baskets and fell to carding lint while they talked—now of prices and makeshift, how to contrive shoes, clothing, warmth, food, medicines, what-not, and how to continue to send supplies to the men in the army. Then, while they carded lint, Miriam was asked to read aloud. She did so, taking the first book that offered from the table. It was “Lalla Rookh,” and she read from it with a curious, ungirlish brilliancy and finish. When she put the book down she was asked if she would not sing. “Not if you do not wish to,” said her mother. Miriam got up at once. “I do wish to.” Her mother, following her to the piano sat down and laid her fingers on the keys. “Sing,” said some one, “‘Love launched a Fairy Boat.’” “Love launched a fairy boat On a bright and shining river, And said, ‘My bark shall float O’er these sunny waves forever. The gentlest gales shall fill the sails That bear me onward cheerily, And through Time’s glass the sand shall pass From morn till evening merrily, From morn till evening merrily ...’ Love launched a fairy boat—” Margaret rose quickly. The others with exclamations gathered around as the mother laid the slight figure on the sofa. “She is frightfully unwell,” said Margaret. “Will—Richard—the strain of this war that should never have been!” She loosened the girl’s dress at the throat, bathed her temples. “There, my dear, there, my dear—” Miriam sat up. “What is the matter? The world got all black.... Let us go home, mother.”