“I ’ll come back every now and then; I won’t stay away so long next time.” She went out to tell her husband what he had said and to let her son sleep, but Laramore slept little. All night, at intervals, the buzz of low voices and sudden outbursts of merriment reached him. His mother stole softly into his room. This time it was to bring a shawl, which she cautiously spread over him, for the air had grown cold. She thought him asleep, but as she was turning away he caught her hand, and drew her down and kissed her. “Why, Luke!” she exclaimed; “don’t be foolish. Why, what’s got in--?” But her voice had grown husky and her words died away in an irrepressible sob of happiness. She did not stir for an instant; then impulsively she put her arms around his neck and kissed him. And he felt that her face was damp. End of Project Gutenberg’s Northern Georgia Sketches, by Will N. Harben