it?” asked Mrs. Varney, striving to regain her composure.

“Deys one ob de men fum de hossiple heah, ma’am.”

“Another one?”

“Ah ’clah to goodness, ma’am, dey jes’ keeps a-comin’ an’ a-comin’. ’Peahs like we cain’t keep no close fo’ ourse’f; de sheets an’ tablecloths an’ napkins an’ eben de young misstess’ petticoats, dey all hab to go.”

“And we have just sent all the bandages we have,” said Mrs. Varney, smiling.

“Den we got to git some mo’. Dey says dey’s all used up, an’ two mo’ trains jes’ come in crowded full o’ wounded sojahs—an’ mos’ all ob ’em dreffeul bad!”

“Is Miss Kittridge here yet, Martha?”

“Yas’m, Ah jes’ seed her goin’ thu de hall into de libr’y.”

“Ask her if they have anything to send. Even if it’s only a little let them have it. What they need most is bandages. There are some in Howard’s room, too. Give them half of what you find there. I think what we have left will last long enough to—to——”

“Yas’m,” said old Martha, sniffing. “Ah’m a-gwine. Does you want to see de man?”

“Yes, send him in,” said Mrs. Varney.

There was a light tap on the door after Martha went out.

“Come in,” said the mistress of the house, and there entered to her a battered and dilapidated specimen of young humanity, his arm in a sling. “My poor man!” exclaimed Mrs. Varney. “Sit down.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“Martha,” she called to the old woman, who paused at the door on her way to the stairs, “can’t you get something to eat and drink for this gentleman?”

“Well, the pantry ain’t obahflowin’, as you know, Mrs. Varney. But Ah reckon Ah might fin’ a glass o’ milk ef Ah jes’ had to.”

“All our wine has gone long ago,” said Mrs. Varney to the soldier, “but if a glass of milk——”

“I haven’t seen a glass of milk for three years, ma’am,” answered the man, smiling; “it would taste like nectar.”

“Martha will set it 

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