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 husband. "I saved the eggs, Samuel—old Milly has begun to lay again—and I knew such a few could do our army no good."

"But this is fine!" explained the Squire heartily. He looked as pleased as the two girls and the men-ofall-work, and Mistress Condit's throat suddenly contracted at the pathos of their pleasure, for barren, indeed, had been their board of everything but the necessities.

"I am glad art pleased," was all she said, however.

Afterward how glad she was that she had given them this pleasure, for as it turned out, even the necessities of life were almost taken from them.

They were peacefully gathered before their fire that Thanksgiving night when a voice hailed them loudly from the gatepost outside. The Squire answered the summons at once and the two girls and their mother could hear him at first exclaim; then came short, quick questions and answers. He soon returned to them, with a very grave face, while the hoof beats of the post rider's horse died away rapidly in the distance. The Squire, without enlightening his family, began to pace up and down the kitchen. Finally, Mistress Condit rose and went to him.

"What is it, Samuel?" she asked steadily, placing her hand upon his arm. At her gesture he stopped in his restless marching to glance tenderly down into her upturned face.

"It's—it's—not about John, is it?" faltered.

It seemed a thousand years to the two watching girls before their father shook his head.