coming back for _you_--to-day--to send you up to Richmond. Now, isn't
that just fine?"

Virgie looked slowly from her father to the Union soldier, who stood
with downcast eyes, his back to them.

"Daddy," she whispered, "he's a right good Yankee--isn't he?"

"Yes, dear," her father murmured sadly, and in yearning love for the
baby he must leave behind; "yes--he's mighty good!"

He knelt and folded her in his arms, kissing her, over and over, while
his hand went fluttering about her soft brown throat; then he wrenched
himself away, but stood for a lingering instant more, his hands
outstretched, atremble for a last and lingering touch, his heart a
racing protest at the parting he must speak.

"Cary!"

It was Morrison who spoke, in mercy for the man; and once more Cary
understood. He turned to cross the broken door; to face a firing squad
in the hot, brown woods; to cross the gulf which stretched beyond the
rumble of the guns and the snarling lip of war. But even as he turned, a
baby's voice called out, in cheerful parting, which he himself had
failed to speak:

"Good-by, Daddy-man. I'll see you up in Richmon'."

The eyes of the two men met and held, in the hardest moment of it all;
for well they knew this hopeful prophecy could never be fulfilled.