She was a tot of seven with sun touched hair and great dark eyes whose witchery made her a piquant little fairy.

In spite of her mother's despair over her clothes Virgie was dressed, or at least had been dressed at breakfast time, in a clean white frock, low shoes and white stockings, although all now showed signs of strenuous usage.

Clutched to her breast as she ran up to her mother's side was "Susan Jemima," her one beloved possession and her doll.

Behind Virgie came Sally Ann, her playmate, a slim, barefooted mulatto girl whose faded, gingham dress hung partly in tatters, halfway between her knees and ankles.

In one of Sally Ann's hands, carried like a sword, was a pointed stick; in the other, a long piece of blue wood-moss from which dangled a bit of string.
"Oh, Mother," cried the small daughter of the Carys, as she came up flushed and excited, "what do you reckon Sally Ann and me have been playing out in the woods!" "What, dear!" and Mrs.Cary's gentle hand went up to lift the hair back from her daughter's dampened forehead.
"_Blue Beard_!" cried Virgie, with rounded eyes.
"Blue Beard!" echoed her mother in astonishment at this childish freak of amusement.
"Not really--on this hot day." "Um, hum," nodded Virgie emphatically.