The mother rose and took her in her arms, and, drawing her head down to her wrinkled cheek, patted her softly. "Thar, honey, thar. I reckon your ol' maw knows a heap more'n you think. You keep mighty still, but you can't fool her." Cassandra drew herself together. "Why didn't Martha come up this evening?" "She war makin' ready, in her triflin' slow way, an' then Frale come down an' said that word, an' I knew right quick 'at ther war somethin' behind--his way war that quare--so I told Marthy to set him out a good suppah, an' I'd stop up here myself this night. She war right glad to do hit. Fool, she be! I could see how she went plumb silly ovah Frale all to onc't." "Mothah, you know right well what they're saying about David and me. Is it true, that word Frale said, that everyone says he nevah will come back?" The mother was silent. "That's all right, mothah. We'll pack up to-night, and I'll go down to Farington to-morrow. Mrs. Towahs will help me to start right." She lighted candles and began to lay out her baby's wardrobe. "I haven't anything to put these in, but I can carry everything I need down there in baskets, and she will help me. They've always been that good to me--all my life." "Cass, Cass, don't go," wailed her mother. "I'm afraid somethin'll happen you if you go that far away. If you could leave baby with me, Cass! Give hit up. Be ye 'feared o' Frale, honey?" "No, mother, the man doesn't live that I'm afraid of." She paused, holding the candle in her hand, lighting her face that shone whitely out of the darkness. Her eyes glowed, and she held her head high. Then she turned again to her work, gathering her few small treasures and placing them on one of the highest shelves of the chimney cupboard. As she worked, she tried to say comforting things to her mother. "I'll write to you every day, like David does me, mother. See? I've kept all his letters. They're in this box. I don't want to burn them because I love them; and I don't want any one else to read them; and I don't want to carry them with me because I'll have him there. Will you lock them in your box, mother, and if anything happens to me, will you sure--sure burn them?" She laid them on the table at her mother's elbow. "You promise, mothah?" "Yas, Cass, yas." "What's in that bundle, mothah?" With trembling fingers the widow opened her parcel and displayed the silver teapot, from which the spout had been melted to be moulded into silver bullets.