was taken from an ample pile in the rear of the house.  Happily, none were seriously wounded, and being veterans were able to do much for one another, while an elderly man in the troop who had some rude surgical experience, supplemented their efforts.  Miss Lou speedily joined her aunts in rummaging for old linen for bandages, and the performance of human duty by the elderly ladies dulled the edge of the terrible truth that they were in the hands of the Yankees.  True, they had to admit to themselves that the young soldier did not appear like a “ruthless monster” and that his conduct thus far had been almost ceremoniously polite; yet all this might be but a blind on the part of a cunning and unscrupulous foe.

When they came down to the veranda with the materials required, the unscrupulous foe met them, cap in hand, thanked them courteously, and gave his entire attention to the wounded, treating the men of both sides alike.  Mrs. Whately, in glad reaction from overwhelming fear concerning her son’s safety, offered her services in behalf of the few wounded Confederates and they were readily accepted.  Before she was aware of it she found herself conferring with the young officer and the surgical trooper in regard to the best treatment of the injuries.  Having long been mistress of a plantation and accustomed to act promptly when any of her slaves were hurt, she now proved a valuable auxiliary.  When the soldiers with whom she sympathized were attended to, her kindness of heart led her on to the Federals, who thanked her as gratefully as if they were not depraved Yankees.

Mr. and Mrs. Baron had retired to the parlor, where they sat in state, awaiting in gloomy fortitude the darker developments of what they deemed the supreme tragedy of their lives.  Miss Lou was flitting in and out, getting lint and other articles required by Mrs. Whately.  She found it no easy matter to maintain the solemnity of aspect which her guardians thought appropriate to the occasion, but was assisted in this effort by her genuine pity for the wounded.  In her joyous relief at escape from a hated union her heart was light indeed.  She had, moreover, no slight sense of humor, and was just bubbling over with mirth at the fact that although the Yankee monsters, from whom it was said she must be rescued at every cost, were masters of the situation, they were engaged in nothing more ruthless than feeding their horses, preparing supper, and caring for the wounded.  The most delicious thing of all was that one of the chief prophets of evil, her Aunt Whately, was aiding in the last-named task.  Her exultation was increased when she brought the last article required and Scoville said with his genial smile, so well remembered, “I think I can assure you now, Miss Baron, that all will do very well.  We are deeply indebted to this lady (bowing to Mrs. Whately) whose services have been as skilful as humane.”