C. S. A.
dropped it—thrown it away? It was about the time she turned Union. Or, maybe—That's not the spool?"
"No," laughs Jon.
But, then, as usual, it came to him.
"Why, yes, she might have dropped it, poor girl! It may be a souvenir—possibly, only think, daddy, cut from her 'father's coat', and sent to her. She might have thrown it away so as not to hurt our feelings—and be loyal to us!—then repented. Think what a sacrifice! For us and the Union! Of course, she'd be shy of letting us know about repenting the sacrifice, but that doesn't lessen its greatness. And that would explain the other night. Shall we give it to her?"
"Sure!" says I, handing it out to him.
Then, again, after a while, it came right.
"No. Then she'd know we knew her dear little secret. To-night I'll put it back where it was—but so plain in sight she can't miss it. Maybe she's still hunting for it. To-night's my watch."
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