After a time a large square lantern took the place of the torch of pine, and grateful wayfarers alongshore, by rein or oar, guided or steered by the glimmer of Saint Idyl's Light. Last year the caving bank carried the rusty gun into the water. It is well that time and its sweet symbol, the peace-loving river, should bury forever from sight all record of a family feud half forgotten. And yet, is it not meet that when the glorious tale of Farragut's victory is told, the simple story of little Saint Idyl should sometimes follow, as the tender benediction follows the triumphant chant? "BLINK" "BLINK" I It was nearly midnight of Christmas Eve on Oakland Plantation. In the library of the great house a dim lamp burned, and here, in a big arm-chair before a waning fire, Evelyn Bruce, a fair young girl, sat earnestly talking to a withered old black woman, who sat on the rug at her feet. "An' yer say de plantatiom done sol', baby, an' we boun' ter move?" "Yes, mammy, the old place must go." "An' is de 'Onerble Mr. Citified buyed it, baby? I know he an' ole marster sot up all endurin' las' night a-talkin' and a-figgurin'." "Yes. Mr. Jacobs has closed the mortgage, and owns the place now." "An' when is we gwine, baby?" "The sooner the better. I wish the going were over." "An' whar'bouts is we gwine, honey?" "We will go to the city, mammy--to New Orleans. Something tells me that father will never be able to attend to business again, and I am going to work--to make money." Mammy fell backward. "W-w-w-work! Y-y-you w-w-work! Wh-wh-why, baby, what sort o' funny, cuyus way is you a-talkin', anyhow?" "Many refined women are earning their living in the city, mammy." "Is you a-talkin' sense, baby, ur is yer des a-bluffin'? Is yer axed yo' pa yit?" "I don't think father is well, mammy. He says that whatever I suggest we will do, and I am _sure_ it is best. We will take a cheap little house, father and I--" "Y-y-you an' yo' pa! An' wh-wh-what 'bout me, baby?" Mammy would stammer when she was excited. "And you, mammy, of course." "Umh! umh! umh! An' so we gwine ter trabble! An' de' Onerble Mr. Citified done closed de morgans on us! Ef-ef I'd 'a' knowed it dis mornin' when he was a-quizzifyin' me so sergacious, I b'lieve I'd o' upped an' sassed 'im, I des couldn't 'a' helt in. I 'lowed he was teckin' a mighty frien'ly intruss, axin' me do we-all's _puck_on-trees bear big _puck_ons, an'--an' ef de well keep cool all summer, an'--an' he ax me--he ax me--" "What else did he ask you, mammy?" "Scuze me namin' it ter yer, baby, but he ax me who was buried in we's graves--he did fur a fac'. Yer reckon dee gwine claim de graves in de morgans, baby?" Mammy had crouched again at Evelyn's feet, and her eager brown face was now almost against her knee. "All the land is mortgaged, mammy." "Don't yer reck'n he mought des nachelly scuze de graves out'n de morgans, baby, ef yer ax 'im mannerly?"