“April must sing it, and we’ll join in the chorus,” cried Val Tracy, and the beautiful girl stood straight beside the piano and sang with all her heart in her voice: “Southrons, hear your country call you! Up, lest worse than death befall you! To arms! To arms! To arms in Dixie! Lo! All the beacon fires are lighted. Let all hearts be now united. To arms! To arms! To arms in Dixie! Advance the flag in Dixie Hurrah! Hurrah! For Dixie’s land we take our stand And live and die for Dixie. To arms! To arms! And conquer peace for Dixie. To arms! To arms! And conquer peace for Dixie!” The chorus rang strong and true at the end of each verse and when the last note sounded Val Tracy cried impetuously: “If only the rascally Yankees could hear you, Miss April! They’d give up, knowing that we had such fair ones to spur us on to victory.” Meanwhile Dorothea watched April with a growing admiration, but not knowing the words of the song she could not join in the singing and her thoughts wandered. Unconsciously she turned toward a side window, for she had had the vague sensation of some one looking in; indeed as she glanced that way a face was pressed against the pane for an instant. It was the countenance of a man, and so pale, so haggard was it, that Dorothea nearly cried out with the sudden sympathy she felt. That the man, whoever he was, was suffering she had no doubt. The sunken cheeks and the shock of dark hair hanging down over the brow, threw into relief the thin white features appearing, as if out of a mist, against the blackness of the night. Only for a second did she see it, and then it vanished. Instantly Dorothea’s thoughts flew to Colonel Ransome’s news of the Yankee prisoner escaped from the dreadful prison at Andersonville. Her first impulse had been to call Harriot’s attention, but she curbed her tongue. The man did not appear to be in uniform, but when she stopped to think of the matter, she could not be sure of that. So momentary had been her glimpse of him that, had she not known herself to be awake, she might have convinced herself that she dreamed. She looked about her to note whether any one else had seen the intruder. But the others were still shouting at the top of their lungs, unmindful of all else, carried away with the fervor of their patriotism and love for the cause in which they believed with their whole hearts. None had seen the face at the window. At least, so far, the man was safe; and surely, if he was an escaped prisoner, as Dorothea was now convinced, he would know from the singing at what sort of a house he had stopped.