Mr. Mather didn’t quite see it either, and without directly replying to Rose, he asked, by way of diverting her mind from the subject of her brother’s volunteering, if she noticed what Tom said about the Rockland Company in general, and George Graham and Isaac Simms in particular? This reminded Rose of Annie, who had been ill most of the time since her husband’s departure. “I meant to have called on Mrs. Graham right away,” she said. “The poor creature has been so sick, they say, but would not let them send for George, because it was his duty to stay where he was. I’d like to see duty or anything else make me willing to part with you. I don’t believe Mrs. Graham loves her husband as I do you, or she would never consent to be left alone,” and Rose nestled closer to her husband, who could not find courage to tell her what he meant to do when he handed her Tom’s letter. It would be too much for her to bear at once, he thought, as he saw how greatly she was pained because her brother had joined the army, and was even then in Washington. To Rose it was some consolation that Tom was captain of his company, and that his soldiers were taken from the finest families in Boston. This was far better than if he had gone as a private, which of course he would not do. He was too proud for that, and she could never have forgiven him the disgrace. Still, viewed in any light, it was very sad, for Tom had been to Rose more like a father than a brother. He was the pride, the head of the Carleton family, upon whom herself and mother had leaned, the one since the day of her widowhood, and the other since she could remember. He it was who had petted and caressed, and spoilt her up to the very hour when, at the altar, he had given her away to Will. He it was, too, who had been the arbiter of all the childish differences which had arisen between herself and _Jimmie_, teasing, naughty _Jimmie_, wandering now no one knew where, if indeed he were alive. And at the thought of Jimmie, with his saucy eyes and handsome face, her tears flowed afresh. What if he were living and should join the army, like Tom? It would be more than she could bear, and for a long time after her husband left her, Rose sat weeping over the picture she drew of both her brothers slain on some bloody battle-field. The shadow of war was beginning to enfold her, and brought with it a new and strange sympathy for those who, like herself, had brothers in the army. Again remembering Annie Graham, she sprang up, exclaiming to herself, “I’ll go this very afternoon. She’ll be so glad to know what Tom thinks of George!” and ere long Rose was picking her way daintily through the narrow street which led to the cottage in the Hollow. It was superior to most of the dwellings upon that street, and Rose was struck at once with the air of neatness and thrift apparent in everything around it, from the nicely painted fence to the little garden with its plats of flowers just budding into beauty.