A frown as black as night lowered on Graham's brow, for they were recalling the most hateful memory of his life--a thought for which he felt he ought to die; but it passed almost instantly, and in the most prosaic tones he said, "Good friends, I'm hungry. I've splashed through Virginia mud twelve mortal hours to-day. Grace, be prepared for such havoc as only a cavalryman can make. We don't get such fare as this at the front." She, with the pretty housewifely bustle which he had admired years ago, rang the bell and made preparations for a feast. "Every fatted calf in Washington should be killed for you," she cried--"prodigal that you are, but only in brave deeds. Where's Iss? I want to see and feast him also." "I left him well provided for in the lower regions, and astounding the 'cullud bredren' with stories which only the African can swallow. He shall come up by and by, for I have my final orders to give. He leads my horse back to the regiment in the morning, and takes care of him in my absence. I hope to spend a month with aunt." "And how much time with us?" asked Hilland, eagerly. "This evening." "Now, Graham, I protest--" "Now, Hilland, I'm ravenous, and here's a dinner fit for the Great Mogul." "Oh, I know you of old. When you employ a certain tone you intend to have your own way; but it isn't fair." "Don't take it to heart. I'll make another raid on you when I return, and then we shall soon be at the front together again. Aunty's lonely, you know." "Grace and I don't count, I suppose," said the major. "I had a thousand questions to ask you;" and he looked so aggrieved that Graham compromised and promised to spend the next day with him. Then he gave an almost hilarious turn to the rest of the evening, and one would have thought that he was in the high spirits natural to any young officer with a month's leave of absence. He described the "woodchuck hole" which had been his hiding-place, sketched humorously the portraits of Iss, Aunt Sheba, who was now his aunt's cook, and gave funny episodes of his midnight prowlings while waiting for a chance to reach the Union lines. Grace noted how skilfully he kept his own personality in the background unless he appeared in some absurd or comical light; and she also noted that his eyes rested upon her less and less often, until at last, after Iss had had his most flattering reception, he said good-night rather abruptly.