Col. S. We'll walk down through the garden; we must go there. Mrs. S. I left that for the last. I knew you wanted to go down to--the grave. Col. S. (quiet for a moment, then with an effort). He loved this home, didn't he, mother? Mrs. S. Yes, he was very happy here. That tree near by the gate--the one we call "Phil's tree"--is the place I love best now. [She takes his hand and quietly they exit (Right) by gate leading to graveyard. [Enter from the house Aunt Marthy with a small bell in in her hand. She looks about as though to ring the bell. Stops, as she glances toward the graveyard. Aunt M. Dey's down dar by Mars Phil's grave. I know'd dey'd go dar las' thing, fo' de come in fo' de night. 'Pears like Mistis got ter go dar every evenin' 'bout sunset. 'Pears like hit comfort her mightily, arter she set dar fer a while by de grave and smove down the grass wid her hands and spred out de fresh flowers she bring him. It seems like she happier den she bin all day. She just come out smilin' ter herself, like she ant smile since fo' de war brek out. I reckon de supper kin wait. [Exit by side of the house. [Enter from the house Fair, Bev, and Charlotte Hillary. She is a young girl of some twenty-two or three years, tall, slender, and very pretty, with somewhat premature dignity. She is dressed in a soft blue cotton dress, much like Fair's. She enters smiling and evidently inspired by the gay mood of Fair and Bev. Charlotte (laughing). So I'm to be told the great secret, am I? What can it be? A new dress for Fair, or have some of your soldier friends made you happy with some trophy of the fight. Bev? Fair. She came near it, didn't she, Bev? But you couldn't really guess, not if you tried all night. Bev. Remember you promised not to say a word to any one. Char. I promise. But really I can't wait another minute; do tell me, quick. Bev (who is searching behind a bush near the house). I say, Fair, where'd you put it? 'Twas here last night. Fair. I found Cupid digging round that bush and I knew he'd find it and tell, so I hid it here. (She reaches under the steps, drawing out a small paper parcel. She unrolls the paper, drawing out the half finished coat of a boy's uniform. It is made from pale-blue flannel, very soft, and evidently from some dress of her own. The armlets are embroidered in red cotton). Here it is. Now guess, Charlotte, before we tell you? Char. I've seen the cloth before--the dress you had last winter. But what--I don't quite see--what is it now? Bev (who has been trying to contain himself, comes nearer, speaking in a glad, excited voice). It's my uniform. I'm going to fight before so very long, and Fair is making it for me. Char (taking the little coat tenderly in her hands). But your mother, Bev!