“I see Hiram’s been to see you—to wish you well? Don’t know what’s the reason, he kind o’ cuts out whenever I come ’roun’. Looks almost like he’s got some’n’ ag’inst me; yet he done me a mighty good turn when I was married; he come and insisted on lendin’ me some money, not only to buy a horse with fer the ole woman: but a horse to go back in th’ army with—a whole basketful of money, and he’s been lendin’ all aroun’ the neighborhood; an’ don’t seem to be in no hurry to git it back—If you jest give him a little slip o’ writin’ on yo’ land, that’s all. Yet, somehow, he always r’minds me of a mink, kind of slippy-like. He don’t do things all at once. He didn’t tell me he wanted no deed; but after I was gone, he got one from the old lady—said ’twould be all right, and I could pay him any time; he jest wanted it in case he died, and she didn’ know no better than to sign it. I’m goin’ to pay him off, first money I git. I never would ’a’ borrowed it ’cept I was so anxious to go back in the army—an’ to git Delia. Hiram thought he was sure to win.” The little soldier’s face always lighted up when he referred to his wife. Jacquelin protested that he thought Still a better fellow than Andy would admit, and added that his father had always esteemed him highly. “Yes, I know that; but the Colonel didn’t know him, Mr. Jack, and he wasn’t lookin’ out for him. I don’t like a man I can’t understand. If you know he’s a liar, you needn’t b’lieve him; but if you aint found him out yet, he gets aroun’ you. Hiram is that sort. I know he us’t to be a liar, an’ I don’t b’lieve folks recovers from that disease. So I’m goin’ to pay him off. An’ you do the same. I tell you, he’s a schemer, an’ he’s lookin’ up.” Just then there was a light step behind them, a shadow fell on the veranda, which, to one of them, at least, was followed by an apparition of light—as, with a smothered cry of, “Jacquelin!” a young girl, her hair blowing about her brow, ran forward, and as the wounded soldier rose, threw her arms around his neck. Blair Cary looked like a rose as she drew back in a pretty confusion, her blushes growing deeper every moment. “Why, Blair, how pretty you’ve grown!” exclaimed Jacquelin, thinking only of her beauty. “Well, you talk as if you were very much surprised,” and Miss Blair bridled with pretended indignation. “Oh! No—Of course, not. I only——” “Oh! yes, you do,” and she tossed her pretty head with well-feigned disdain. “You are as bold with your compliments as you were with your sword.” She turned from him to Sergeant Stamper, who was regarding her with open-mouthed admiration. “How do you do, Sergeant Stamper? How’s Delia? And how are her new chickens? Tell her she isn’t to keep on sending them all to me. I am going to learn to raise them for myself now.”