The little girls looked at each other with startled eyes.  What was Miss Rosalie talking about, they wondered, and what did Grace Waite mean about anybody “taking” Fort Sumter or Fort Moultrie?  Of course nobody could do such a thing.

School was dismissed with less ceremony than usual that morning, and the little girls started off in groups, talking and questioning each other about what Miss Rosalie had said.

Two or three ran after Grace and Sylvia to ask Grace what she meant by her question.

“Of course we know that northern people want to take our slaves away from us,” declared Elinor Mayhew, the oldest girl in school, whose dark eyes and curling hair were greatly admired by auburn-haired, blue-eyed Sylvia, “but of course they can’t do that.  But how could they take our forts?”

“I don’t know,” responded Grace.  “That’s why I asked Miss Rosalie.  I guess I’ll have to ask my father.”

“We’ll all ask our fathers,” said Elinor, “and to-morrow we will tell each other what they say.  I don’t suppose your father would care if the forts were taken,” and she turned suddenly toward Sylvia.  “I suppose all the Yankees would like to tell us what we ought to do.”

Sylvia looked at her in surprise.  The tall girl had never taken any notice of the little Boston girl before, and Sylvia could not understand why Elinor should look at her so scornfully or speak so unkindly.  The other girls had stopped talking, and now looked at Sylvia as if wondering what she would say.

“I don’t know what you mean,” she answered bravely, “but I know one thing:  my father would want what was right.”

“That’s real Yankee talk,” said Elinor.  “They say slavery isn’t right.”

There was a little murmur of laughter among the other girls.  For in 1860 the people of South Carolina believed they were quite right in buying negroes for slaves, and in selling them when they desired; so these little girls, some of whom already “owned” a colored girl who waited upon them, had no idea but what slavery was a right and natural condition, and were amused at Elinor’s words.

“Why do you want to be so hateful, Elinor?” demanded Grace, before Sylvia could reply.  “Sylvia has not said or done anything to make you talk to her this way,” and Grace linked her arm in Sylvia’s, and stood facing the other girls.

“Well, Grace Waite, you can associate with Yankees if you wish to.  But my mother says that Miss Patten ought not to have Sylvia Fulton in her school.  Come on, girls; Grace Waite can do as she pleases,” and Elinor, followed by two or three of the older girls, went scornfully down the street.

“Sylvia!  Wait!” and a little girl about Sylvia’s age came running down the path.  It was Flora Hayes; and, next to Grace Waite, Sylvia liked her the best of any of her new companions.

“Don’t mind what Elinor Mayhew says.  She’s always horrid when she dares to be,” said Flora.