THE TAPESTRY OF PENELOPE
"I can't," she says. "It's not in here any more!" She pounds her breast. "Something else has taken its place. Yes, I am a brute. But, I suppose, if I could, I'd sacrifice the whole South—for—that one other thing. But," she laughs a little, "maybe I can keep my tapestry from being finished till the war's over. That's my only hope."
"Oh," I says, "then that's the trouble! You're bothering because we've changed your mind for you! You can't be rebel any more and you think you oughtn't be Union! Say, Evelyn, that makes me laugh, it does, really. Of course, we're glad you're Union. But, if you ain't sure about it, why, keep on being rebel. We'll all love you just as hard. What's the odds—for a woman? And, if you can't do either the one or the other, which, I expect, is your trouble, just forget it and be happy. It's hereditary: that's why I'm Union. And it'll work itself out all right. Do you hear? Just be happy. That's what'll please us most."
Goshens! When I looks up the turn of the
145
