One tiny brown hand, with its berry-stained fingers, was run through his tangled hair, softly, tenderly, even as she longed to soothe the weary head of General Lee.
"Don't cry, Daddy-man," she murmured in his ear; "it's all right.

_I_ can eat the blackberries.

They--they don't taste so _awful_ good when you have 'em _all_ the time; but _I_ don't mind." She paused to kiss him, then tried once more to buoy his hope and hers.

"We'll have jus' heaps of things when we get to Richmon'-- jus' heaps--an' then--" She stopped abruptly, lifting her head and listening, in the manner of a sheep dog scenting danger from afar.

Her father looked up sharply and gripped her hands.
"Virgie! You hear--_what_ ?" "Horses! Oh, a lot of 'em! On the big road!" It was true, for down the breeze came the faintly echoed thud of many hoofs and the clinking jingle of sabers against the riders' thighs.
Virgie turned back from the open door.
"Why--why, they've turned into _our_ road!" Her breath came fast, as she sank her voice to a faint, awed whisper, "Daddy--do you reckon it's--_Yankees_ ?" "Yes," said her father, who had risen to his feet.