After the meal they sat in the little parlor. Mark opened his long-neglected piano and tried a few bars of a favorite _Nocture_; but his stiff fingers made poor work of it. It was pleasanter to sit beside his second mother. There were a few more silver threads in her smooth hair, but her serene, loving face seemed to him as young as ever. Presently the Reverend Samuel and Mrs. Sniffen dropped in, for whom the colonel had to fight his battles o'er again. "And how about that exploit of yours, unspiking the cannon? We've all heard of it, colonel," said the minister. "Mrs. Bradbury's son, who was there at the time, wrote a full account of it home, but we want to listen to it from your lips." "Yes, yes, Hotspur, out with it," added the doctor. The red shone through Mark's gypsy cheek, as he gave a confused and stammering recital of the incident; and he felt decidedly relieved, when he had concluded, at his brother's blunt remark that he deserved to have been shot for his pains, as no one but a fool or a crazy man would have attempted such a job. "Mercy, George, don't say that!" said Mrs. Gildersleeve, who had been listening, pale and with a shudder, to Mark's narrative. "George is right," replied Mark; "it was nothing but a foolhardy freak, done on the spur of the moment; and I would not have attempted it if I had taken time to reflect." The colonel was rather anxious to slur the feat; for, on analyzing the motives that impelled him to its performance, he was obliged to confess that it was pricked vanity and the desire to win Edna's admiration, rather than any stern sense of duty or devotion to his flag. "You never wrote me a word of all this, Mark," said his sister-in-law, reproachfully. "However, perhaps it is just as well;" and addressing Mr. Sniffen, who was about taking his departure, she asked him if he would, before leaving, kindly lead in prayer, so that they might all return thanks for the safe return and preservation of Mark from so many dangers. "You will join us, will you not, doctor?" "Most certainly, my dear lady," was the reply; and the old materialist, who had sought with a scalpel for the soul in a cadaver, the stoic, the Pythagorean, knelt and united in sincere devotion to the Father of all, whom we worship, each after his own little system, way, or fashion. After the departure of the guests, the circle around the grate-fire was still further narrowed, and Mrs. Gildersleeve opened her budget of news. She first inquired of Mark if he did not think the doctor had greatly changed? "Very much," replied Mark.