“Dust!  Dust!  I see a horseman in a cloud of dust.  Look!  Look!  He’s coming this way.”  By this time Virgie’s acting had taken on so close a resemblance to the real thing that both Mrs. Gary and Uncle Billy rose to their feet in wonder.

“He’s jumped the fence,” cried Virgie.  “He’s cutting across our fields!  He sees me!  He’s waving his hat to me!” With the last words the child suddenly jumped down from the bench and ran through the opening in the hedge, leaving her mother gazing after her in sudden consternation.

“Name we Gawd!  Miss Hallie,” gasped Uncle Billy.  “You reckon she done brought somebody, sho’ ’nuff?  Hi!  Hi! I hear sum’-pin.  It’s a horse.  Lan’ er Glory!  Hits, him!”

CHAPTER II

Round the corner of the hedge at a swift trot came a man in the uniform of an officer in the Confederate Army,—­and Virgie was in his arms.

Mrs. Cary gave him one look and threw out her arms.

“Herbert!”

The man on horseback let Virgie slide down and then dismounted like a flash, coming to her across the little space of lawn with his whole soul in his eyes.  With his dear wife caught in his arms he could do nothing but kiss her and hold her as if he would never again let her go.

“Hallie,” he breathed, “but it’s good to see you again.  It’s good.”  And so they stood for a long moment, husband and wife united after months of separation, after dangers and terrors and privations which had seemed as if they never would end.

Sally Ann was one of the first to interrupt, edging up at the earliest opportunity with her beard in her hand.  “How you does, Mars’ Cary?  How you fine yo’sef, seh?”

“Why, hullo, Sally Ann!” said Cary, and put out his hand.  “What on earth is this thing?”

Virgie ran to his side and caught his hand in hers.  “We were playing ‘Blue Beard,’ Daddy,—­an’ you came just like the brother.”

“So you’ve been Blue Beard, have you, Sally Ann?—­then I must have the pleasure of cutting you into ribbons.”  Herbert Cary’s shining saber flashed half out of its scabbard and then, laughing, he slapped it back with a clank.

“Sally Ann,” he announced, “I’m going to turn you into Sister Anne for a while.  You run up to Miss Hallie’s room and sit by the window where you can watch the road and woods.  If you see anything—­soldiers, I mean—­”

“Oh, Herbert!” cried his wife in anguish.

“S-s-sh!” he whispered.  “Go along, Sally Ann.  If you see anyone at all report to me at once.  Understand?  Off with you!”

Uncle Billy now came forward in an effort to make his master’s clothes more presentable.

“Heh, Mars’ Cary, lemme brush you off, seh.  You’s fyar kivered.”

“Look out, you old rascal,” Cary laughed, as his wife backed away coughing before the cloud of fine white dust that rose under Uncle Billy’s vigorous hands.  “You’re choking your mistress to death.  Never mind the dust.  I’ll get it back in ten minutes.”