Led by Harriot the two went toward the kitchen by a circuitous route as if they had just happened to pass by. Outside the door was a group of colored mothers and orphan-tenders, awaiting the special rations which were doled out to little babies, and among them was Saretta with Aunt Decent’s newest grandchild in her arms. Harriot, wise in the management of the dusky autocrat, said nothing of patty-pans until she had stuffed the baby. Then she broached the subject tentatively. “Land sakes, but you is the eatin’est child!” Aunt Decent exclaimed heartily, and that was sufficient assurance that there would be a special portion of the coveted poundcake for the two girls. “I wish I had gone over to the Polks. Cousin Sally would have walked to the dêpot with me,” Corinne hinted with conscious cunning. Harriot, who had no other cousins in Georgia, was decidedly jealous of Corinne’s many relatives. “I’ll go to the dêpot with you now,” Harriot said good-naturedly. “Not that I care anything about your old train,” she added, as they started off. “Its arrival is the only thing that ever happens in this stupid little town,” Corinne snapped. “Maybe,” Harriot agreed, “but how any one can enjoy seeing a crowd of ladies in black silk Talmas covered with dust, is more than I can understand.” “There are the wounded officers,” Corinne suggested, a trifle self-consciously. “Yes, all trying to look interesting,” Harriot answered, with more than a trace of scorn in her tone. Corinne regarded her askance for a moment. “What in the world has come over you to-day?” she asked. “That’s no way to speak of our heroes. If you weren’t my very own cousin—” “Well, I am,” Harriot interrupted, “and I’m just as much for the South as any one.” “More so than some, I hope,” Corinne interrupted in her turn. Harriot stopped short in her tracks. “If you say a word about mother being a Submissionist, I’ll never speak to you again,” she threatened seriously. “I wasn’t going to mention Aunt Parthenia,” Corinne asserted, but the younger girl shook her head as if she were not so sure of this. “Just because mother didn’t think we should have seceded doesn’t make her a traitor to the South,” she continued earnestly. “Besides, April is rebel enough for a whole family.” The girls walked on again in silence. They had touched upon a delicate subject, and Corinne, with unusual good sense, held her tongue until they reached the railroad shed where the expected train was just coming to a stop. A large crowd had already gathered to hear the latest news of the outside world. Because the mails were seriously interrupted and few newspapers were published in the South, the people of the towns and villages were almost wholly dependent upon the information to be picked up from travelers; so, for miles about the little town of Washington, Georgia, the inhabitants of the district drove or rode in to meet the daily train.