After many hours, he retired. The sun was shining, although it was December, when he heard Constance calling him to breakfast. How much he would have liked to have said: "Constance, Mildred is somewhere in this town, our Mildred! She is being persecuted, Constance, our Mildred is being persecuted--being hounded out of the sweet life we know she lived, and inspired in those about her!" And he knew that Constance would say: "Go forth, my brother, and find her; bring her back into our home, that we may love her and make her our sister, for it is as such she was, and more, these many months." That was the spirit of the Jacobs. But he kept his peace, and ate in silence. Monday came, a cold, dreary day. Snow fell all over the country, and Dixie land, far south, was white mantled. Wilson Jacobs went to the depot, for he was leaving on a great mission. Would he succeed? He hoped so; others hoped so; and Constance hoped so, as well as Mildred Latham. But he never knew. CHAPTER SEVEN "_Please Stop--and Save Me!_" "Breakfast is ready, my dear," said Mother Jane, for as such she was known and called by all who knew her. She was speaking to Mildred Latham. A moment later, Mildred came out of her room and seated herself at the table, at the head of which sat an old gray-headed man, and at the foot sat Mother Jane, whose head was white also. "And did you rest well, my dear?" inquired Mother Jane of Mildred, bestowing upon her a smile full of kindness and tenderness. "I slept beautifully," Mildred replied as kindly, and beamed upon the old soul with all the consideration--maybe more--of her own child. "And you sell a book?" inquired the elder woman, after a moment. "Yes, ma'am, I sell a book. A book by a young colored author." "By a young colored author? I do declare!" exclaimed the other, with enthusiasm. "It is delightful when I know we have young men who are doing something else besides making convicts." Mother Jane was known for her wit. "What is the text of this story?" she inquired later. Mildred told her. "Delightful, to say the least." The elder woman had secured some learning in her childhood, and had studied by consistent reading, until she was well informed, and used the most perfect English. "Went out into the great west. To the _Rosebud Country_. Well, well. I read all about that country when it was opened to settlers some years ago. I wanted my son to go; but--he went elsewhere," and she paused to swallow, while a tear shone in her old eyes. Mildred spoke of other things. The other didn't say, but quick intuition told her that son had gone to the chain gang.