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Cupid. Go on, nigger! Didn't I tell you dey walked to de mill?

[A horse's hoofs are heard.

Marthy (laughs). I hears hit all de same.

Cupid (drops hat in astonishment). Hi! ef dey ant not one er my kerrige hosses! Hi, dar! Mars Bev! Mars Bev!

[Enter at the back by the road Fair and Bev. She is riding on a big brown horse with a bag of meal before her. She is a beautiful young girl of about eighteen, simply dressed in a pink cotton gown; her hair hangs in loose curls about her face: her hat is carried loosely in one hand; with the other she is guiding the old horse. Bev walks at her side, with one hand on the bridle. He is a very handsome boy of about fourteen, with a gay, happy manner. He is barefoot, dressed in a soft white cotton shirt and blue homespun trousers. He is without hat or coat, and seems in the best of spirits. They stop at the gate, laughing.

Fair (from her place on the horse). Take me down, Bev. Here, Cupid, you take the meal.

[Cupid comes forward too surprised to speak, lifts down the bag, then Bev takes her hands and lifts her to the ground.

Cupid. Whar you git dis hoss?

Bev (laughs and winks at Fair). Why, out of the second stall near the door. Where'd you think?

[Marthy and Fair laugh.

Cupid. Dis hoss ant never pack no meal fo' in his life; he's er kerrige hoss.

Fair. Well, Cupid, we had to get the meal, and Jack is so old and stiff I thought Tony here would enjoy the trip, and he did, all except the ferry. I don't believe he ever crossed a stream before, not with me on his back and a bag of meal. Was'nt he funny, Bev? Dear old Tony! (She throws her arms around his neck). I wish I had some sugar for you.

Marthy. Go'long, child! You talkin' 'bout givin' sugar to dat old hoss, when we all has to put 'lasses in de coffee and proud ter git hit.

Cupid. You tell Mistis and Marster dey's come.

[He leads horse off (Left) carrying the meal.

Marthy. Yo' pa bin askin' 'bout you; he say he gwine way ter morrow.

Fair (anxious). To-morrow!

Bev. Where is he?

Marthy. He an' you ma done gone for walk round de quarters.

[Exit Marthy into the house.

Bev. Fair, did you know father was going back to his regiment to-morrow?

Fair. I was afraid of it. The wound is almost healed, but mother can't bear to have us mention his leaving us again.

Bev. Why, I had hoped to go back with him; I hate to be young. Why, Fair, do you know sometimes I feel so crazy to go off with the army I believe I'll run away, except—

Fair. Yes, I know; you mean mother. When father and George are gone, we're all she's got.

Bev. I wish I'd been twins; then one of me could go.

[Fair laughs.

Fair. But if you had been, 'twould be just twice as hard for us to give you up.

Bev. I say, let's go find father. They're walking in the lane down past the quarters.

[Fair hesitates.

Fair. You go, Bev; I'll meet you near the gate. (She smiles at him). I'm tired, I reckon.

Bev (slightly disappointed). I won't go unless you come.

Fair (sits quietly for a moment, then looks up quickly at him). Go on, Bev, don't mind if I stay here. (A slight pause). Was there any news to-day?

Bev. Nothing new. But won't it be splendid if General Morgan brings his camp near enough for George and Carter and Gordon all to come by and see us. Gee! I wish they'd come.

Fair. Oh, Bev, do you think they could? 'Twould seem too good to be true. (She is silent for a moment). Bev, did you know Stephen Winthrop and his command had been ordered to the South? Doesn't it seem strange for a man with Southern blood to fight against his people? Of course he is our cousin, and that ought to make some difference, and then he was raised in the North with only visits here. And I suppose—I suppose its natural, but then—I wish—Oh, I wish it were different.

Bev. I don't feel like he was our cousin any more. Didn't it seem strange that he and Mr. Hopkins should have visited here just before the war? I liked them fine. I believe I liked Hopkins best. I was awful sorry when they went away.

Fair (quietly, without looking at him). Does that seem very long ago to you, Bev?

Bev (surprised). Why, no: not longer than it was.

Fair. I was thinking—I can't help wondering if we shall ever see him again.

Bev. Who do you mean, Hopkins?

Fair (softly). No; Steve!

Bev. We may, though I hope not.

Fair (surprised). Why?

Bev. He'd be our enemy now.

[Fair seems greatly troubled.

Fair. Somehow I can't help thinking that we shall see him again. I often wonder if he's changed. He seemed so different from our boys—so very different, somehow.

Bev. I wonder why you never like to walk down through the lane any more? I don't believe you've been down there for a long time, not since Hopkins and Winthrop were here.

Fair (quickly). Oh, yes, I have, lots of times. When Aunt Sally was sick and when Uncle Joe died, don't you remember?

Bev. So you have; but I was thinking of the last walk we took down there. Hopkins and I went off through the woods hunting, and you and Winthrop walked down to the bars and waited for us. 'Twas night when we got back, and you and he were still standing near the bars. The moon made you look so white, I was afraid you were sick. That's why I remember.

Fair (with an effort). Don't let's talk about that any more, will you, Bev?

Bev. Of course; I didn't know you minded. Was that why you didn't want to walk there just now?

Fair (rising). Let's go and look for Charlotte: perhaps she's heard some news.

Bev. I reckon she's in the house; I'll call her.

[He runs towards the house, calling "Charlotte! Charlotte!" Exit into house.

Fair (sits quietly on the bench looking off before her, greatly troubled). I couldn't, someway I couldn't go there—to-day. Two years ago this night! And yet how long, how terribly long ago it seems! He told me he'd come back. I often wonder why I care: but it was such a happy time!

[Her head sinks wearily down on her arm on the back of the bench, covering her face.

[Enter from the back Col. and Mrs. Stuart. Col. Stuart is a large, handsome, soldierly man of about fifty the typical Southern Colonel. He wears his uniform and walks with a slight limp. Mrs. Stuart is a pretty, dignified, matronly-looking woman, same few years younger than her husband. She is dressed in a simple black dress of good material, that has evidently seen better days. Fair rises quickly, going to them. She places a chair for her father, who sits.

Fair (slipping one arm around his neck and pressing her cheek to his). Dear father, Bev and I were just coming to look for you.

Mrs. S. Did you and Bev go to the mill?

Fair. Yes, to get the meal; and 'twas such fun! I rode on Tony. And if you could have seen old Cupid when we got back; he thought of course we'd take old Jack.

[She laughs.

Col. S. Dear little girl, what would we do without you? It's hard for us to see you do the work meant for the slaves. You go to mill and help them cook and work and sew; and if you and Charlotte ever grieve or worry—why, we don't find it out.

Fair. Oh, you're praising us too much. We girls can't fight; I sometimes wish we could.