There was a very full meeting of the Soldiers’ Aid Society, for it was hoped that the strangers would attend, and all were anxious to meet them. I went early, and found Mrs. Ryder, our president, and Miss Letty Brown busied in cutting and fitting garments; while in the two rooms needles and tongues were equally active. It was not long before Miss Fenton and her cousin came in, for they had none of that petty pride which leads its possessor to despise punctuality as a vulgar virtue. They were both more plainly dressed than most of the young ladies present; but though simple and unaffected in manner, there was an innate dignity and refinement about them which effectually repelled impertinence, and disappointed a few who were prepared, in their own elegant phraseology, “to find out all about them.” There was one woman, however, who was not to be foiled in this determination. Mrs. Flint was the widow of a worthy man, who is said to have been worried out of existence by his disconsolate partner, and none who knew her could question the probability of such a catastrophe. Her manner was always deprecating; her step, true to her nature, was soft and stealthy, and her voice carefully modulated to express only amiability; but there was a rigidity about the thin lips and a sharp glitter in the cold blue eye which told quite another story. Greatly to the annoyance of our good pastor and his wife, Mrs. Flint arrogated to herself the office of adviser in all matters relating to the church; and as she could talk fluently, and call up tears from some hidden fountain on all proper occasions, some ignorant people looked on her as quite a saint, while those who knew her best regarded her as a scheming, dangerous woman, the female counterpart of Bunyan’s Talkative. She had exerted herself to the utmost to get the management of the Society, and especially of its funds, into her own hands; and failing in this, had left us in disgust, and for months had not attended our meetings, until brought out by curiosity on the present occasion. Mabel Ryder had drawn Elinor away into a circle of young ladies; but Lilian, who had been consulting Miss Letty about her work, was sitting alone, and to her Mrs. Flint cautiously made her way. After a few commonplace remarks, she said in her softest tone, “I am very happy to see you here, of course, but I hardly expected that you Southerners would be willing to help us fight against your own brethren.”