“They ain’t a-been to bed,” said the girl, quietly; and then, as if a sudden thought had struck her, she hitched her chair nearer the door which she had left open, and sat facing it as she sewed on the brown thing she was working on a small bow which she took from her dress. “I de-clar, I don’t see what old Mis’s Stanley is actually a-gwine to do,” broke out Mrs. Mills, suddenly, and when Vashti did not feel called on to try to enlighten her she added, “Do you?” “Same as other folks, I s’pose,” said the girl, quietly. “Other folks has somebody--somebody to take keer on ‘em. I’ve got your pappy now; but she ain’t got nobody but little Darby--and when he’s gone what will she do?” For answer Vashti only hitched her chair a little nearer the door and sewed on almost in darkness. “Not that he was much account to her, ner to anybody else, except for goin’ aroun’ a-fightin’ and a-fussin’.” “He was account to her,” flamed up the girl, suddenly; “he was account to her, to her and to everybody else. He was the fust soldier that ‘listed, and he’s account to everybody.” The old woman had raised her head in astonishment at her daughter’s first outbreak, and was evidently about to reply sharply; but the girl’s flushed face and flashing eyes awed and silenced her. “Well, well, I ain’t sayin’ nothin’ against him,” she said, presently. “Yes, you air--you’re always sayin’ somethin’ against him--and so is everybody else--and they ain’t fitten to tie his shoes. Why don’t they say it to his face! There ain’t one of ‘em as dares it, and he’s the best soldier in the comp’ny, an’ I’m jest as proud of it as if he was my own.” The old woman was evidently bound to defend herself. She said: “It don’t lay in your mouth to take up for him, Vashti Mills; for you’re the one as has gone up and down and abused him scandalous.” “Yes, and I know I did,” said the girl, springing up excitedly and tossing her arms and tearing at her ribbons. “An’ I told him to his face too, and that’s the only good thing about it. I knowed it was a lie when I told him, and he knowed it was a lie too, and he knowed I knowed it was a lie--what’s more--and I’m glad he did--fo’ God I’m glad he did. He could ‘a’ whipped the whole company an’ he jest wouldn’t--an’ that’s God’s truth--God’s fatal truth.” The next instant she was on her knees hunting for something on the floor, in an agony of tears; and as her father, aroused by the noise, rose and asked a question, she sprang up and rushed out of the door. The sound of an axe was already coming through the darkness across the gum thickets from Mrs. Stanley’s, telling that preparation was being made for Darby’s last breakfast. It might have told more, however, by its long continuance; for it meant that Little Darby was cutting his mother a supply of wood to last till his return. Inside, the old woman, thin and faded, was rubbing his musket. *****