They made arrangements for her and the three children to go "out into the confederacy" within two or three days at furthest; as soon as she and her feeble helper could hurry a few matters of business to completion at and about the Picayune Tier. Richling did not get back to the Doctor's house until night had fallen and the sky was set aglare by seven miles' length of tortuous harbor front covered with millions' worth of burning merchandise. The city was being evacuated. Dr. Sevier and he had but few words. Richling was dejected from weariness, and his friend weary with dejections. "Where have you been all day?" asked the Doctor, with a touch of irritation. "Getting Kate Ristofalo ready to leave the city." "You shouldn't have left the house; but it's no use to tell you anything. Has she gone?" "No." "Well, in the name of common-sense, then, when is she going?" "In two or three days," replied Richling, almost in retort. The Doctor laughed with impatience. "If you feel responsible for her going get her off by to-morrow afternoon at the furthest." He dropped his tired head against the back of his chair. "Why," said Richling, "I don't suppose the fleet can fight its way through all opposition and get here short of a week." The Doctor laid his long fingers upon his brow and rolled his head from side to side. Then, slowly raising it:-- "Well, Richling!" he said, "there must have been some mistake made when you was put upon the earth." Richling's thin cheek flushed. The Doctor's face confessed the bitterest resentment. "Why, the fleet is only eighteen miles from here now." He ceased, and then added, with sudden kindness of tone, "I want you to do something for me, will you?" "Yes." "Well, then, go to bed; I'm going. You'll need every grain of strength you've got for to-morrow. I'm afraid then it will not be enough. This is an awful business, Richling." They went upstairs together. As they were parting at its top Richling said:-- "You told me a few days ago that if the city should fall, which we didn't expect"-- "That I'd not leave," said the Doctor. "No; I shall stay. I haven't the stamina to take the field, and I can't be a runaway. Anyhow, I couldn't take you along. You couldn't bear the travel, and I wouldn't go and leave you here, Richling--old fellow!" He laid his hand gently on the sick man's shoulder, who made no response, so afraid was he that another word would mar the perfection of the last.