"The carpets were sent to the soldiers for blankets during the war. It was all we could do for our poor boys except to cut my hair and sell it. You see my hair hasn't grown out yet. I sent it to Richmond the last year of the war. I felt I must do something, when my neighbours were giving so much. You know Mrs. Cameron lost four boys."
"I prefer the floors bare," Elsie replied. "We will get a few rugs."
She looked at the girlish hair hanging in ringlets about Mrs. Lenoir's handsome face, smiled pathetically, and asked:
"Did you really make such sacrifices for your cause?"
"Yes, indeed. I was glad when the war was ended for some things. We certainly needed a few pins, needles and buttons, to say nothing of a cup of coffee or tea."
"I trust you will never lack for anything again," said Elsie, kindly.
"You will bring us good luck," Mrs. Lenoir responded. "Your coming is so fortunate. The cotton tax Congress levied was so heavy this year, we were going to lose everything. Such a tax when we are all about to starve Dr. Cameron says it was an act of stupid vengeance on the South, and that no other farmers in America have their crops taxed by the National Government. I am so glad your father has come. He is not hunting for an office. He can help us, maybe."
"I am sure he will," answered Elsie, thoughtfully.
Marion ran up the steps, lightly, her hair dishevelled and face flushed.
