Mrs. Crocker, off duty, stood framed in the door, cooling her round face with a palmetto fan and listening with interest to the talk or taking part in the discussion in so positive a way as was felt to be indiscreetly feminine, but respected on account of her official representation of a husband too deaf to fulfil his duties.

The Doctor got out of his gig.  “Any letters from my boy?”

“Yes, two.  Wanted to send them by Billy, but he’s war-wild and wouldn’t go.”  The Doctor looked over his letters.

“All right, I hope,” said Mrs. Crocker.

Pole in his shirt sleeves listening said, “Of course, he is all right—­doctors don’t fight none.”

“Send your son, Pole, before you talk nonsense,” said McGregor.  “My boy got a ball in his leg at Malvern Hill.”

“My son’s going along with the Squire,” returned Pole, “leaves me short of help, and my wife’s about crazy over it.”

“What about Mrs. Penhallow?” said Mrs. Crocker.  “I guess she’s the kind that don’t show what she feels.”

“Oh, money’s a great comforter,” returned the butcher.  “What I’m to do, I don’t know.”

“Well, I’m going too,” said Joe Grace, “and father says I’m right.”

“Oh, here’s the parson,” said Pole, as Rivers approached.  “He’s like the rest of them—­all for war.”

“Well, Pole,” said Rivers, “how are you and Mrs. Crocker?  I think you are getting thin this hot weather.”

“Am I?  No such good luck.  We are talking war, Mr. Rivers.  I do hear that what with the mill-boys and country fellows there’s some thirty going into the Colonel’s regiment.”

“So I hear.  On Sunday I mean to talk to them after service.  You might say so.”

“I will.  If I had a boy, he should go,” said Mrs. Crocker.

“It’s easy talking when you haven’t none,” said Pole.  “We are gettin’ licked, and some day Lee will be over the border.  It’s just useless to spend money and cripple men.”

There was a moment of silence, when Mrs. Crocker spoke.  “Pole, you aren’t ever sure of your legs.  You were all for Buchanan, and then all for Lincoln.  Now you’re uneasy on the top rail of the fence and the rail ain’t round.”  The parliament broke into laughter, and with more talk dissolved after some critical wisdom about the war.

* * * * *

It was July 30th, after ten at night, the day before the final Sunday of the month.  The Colonel of the 129th stood with Leila before a big war map.  “This fight at Malvern Hill”—­he put a pin on the place—­“was a mistake on the part of Lee, and yet he is a master of the game.  He was terribly beaten—­an aggressive general would have attacked at once.”

“Would he have won, uncle?”

“I think so—­but after a defeat these armies are as dangerous as a cornered cat.”

“But, dear Uncle Jim, what is the matter with us?—­We have men, money and courage.”