But we can work, and when that work's for General Morgan, there's nothing that's too hard for us to do.

Mrs. S. We seem to give so little to the cause; we have so little left, only our work. That's such a comfort to feel we can do something. When the fighting's near, and all night long we hear the musketry and cannon, and when the thought comes that you and George are going to the front, it seems more than we can bear. I fix a light out there on the front porch, and wonder how the fighting's going on. Bev always stands out by the gate and listens for the sound of firing coming near. 'Tis hard to keep him then, he wants so terribly to fight with you and George. But through those nights that come so often to us now we have our work, and all night long we sit and sew and knit and listen. Oh, then the work's a comfort to feel and know we're doing it for you.

Col. S. And we out there, who fight, are called the heroes.

Fair. Father, must you go to-morrow? The wound can't quite be well. Stay for a few more days. Why, I feel as though I'd hardly seen you for a moment.

Mrs. S. (who has quietly taken his hand in both her own during Fair's last speech). To-morrow, dear, and we should thank God he can go. But let's think of to-night; to-morrow's not here yet, and we have still to-night.

Fair (rising, starts to the house). I'll go and look for Bev and Charlotte and bring them here.

[Exit into house.

Mrs. S. (softly, with a great effort). To-morrow—it must be then!

Col. S. To-morrow. (A pause). Yes, then I must go. Word came to us that Morgan's camp was moving on this way, and as we fight in battles there, so must you here. Perhaps before so very long I'll come again, and bring the boys home, too. Why, George is Morgan's right hand man. They say when Morgan wants a man of special courage, he always calls on George. When you think of all the trust that Morgan puts in him, it ought to make us glad we have our boy to give him.

Mrs. S. Yes, glad; I am glad, Phillip. I'm proud of every way we help the South. And what of Gordon Cabell and Carter Hillary? Are they with Morgan, too?

Col. S. They're Morgan's scouts. They, with five other men, have saved the army more than once. They know the roads for miles and miles. Sometimes they are away for weeks, and then they turn up with some news that means the life of Morgan's army.

Mrs. S. (looking up). But Phil, the sun has almost set, the dew is falling: we'd best go in. You musn't take a cold and on the last day here.

[They rise.

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!

Fair. Oh, we're going to tell her, but not now. She'll let Bev go when he is needed, and so I am making this to have it ready. It isn't very nice, I know. You see, I never made a coat before, and the cloth is old and thin and not the right color; but it's all I have. I wish I had the finest uniform in the world for Bev, but this will have to do. (Her voice falters for a second). And—I'm making it myself.

Bev. Why, Fair, you know I wouldn't wear any uniform but this, even if I had a dozen. The buttons are those the boys gave me off their coats, and the rank on the sleeve is all embroidered. I wouldn't trade with any of them—not even General Morgan.

Char. (putting her arm around Fair). You precious little Fair, there's not a better uniform in all the South than this, but can't I help you with it? I'd love to; may I, dear?

Fair. If you'll show me how to put in the sleeve, I'd love it; but I'd rather do the work all by myself, please. You see, Bev's going to be such a great, brave soldier in this coat. I'd like to think I'd made it all myself.

[She begins to sew on the coat.

Char. I suppose I needn't ask in whose command you are going? I know you will say Morgan's. But how about your rank—will you be just a private?

Bev. Not just a private; though, of course, I'll be that if I can be nothing else. George told me when all was ready and my mother said I might, that I could come with him. I'd be one of the scouts, the color bearer; that's the place I want—(he grows more and more excited)—to hold the flag; to feel it was my own, my very own; to feel and touch and carry. Do you know, Charlotte, I believe I'd think George most as great a man as Morgan if he'd take me with him in his company and let me have the flag.

Char. Perhaps he will. I'll speak for you; he loves to do the things I want; and, yes, I'm sure he'll take you for his color-bearer.

Bev. Where's father, Fair? I must go tell him now before he goes away. He'll say that I can go; I know he will. And mother: I'll tell her, too. Where are they?

Fair (quietly). I think they're in the garden by Phil's grave. They always go there near this time.

[Exit