The breakfast was another sight to behold.  As Mary the cook said to Jane the housemaid, “If they’d been born kings and queens, Mrs. Lee couldn’t have laid herself out more; it’s grand, so it is,—­just you go and see;” which Jane proceeded to do, and forthwith thereafter corroborated Mary’s enthusiastic statement.

There were plenty of presents, too:  and when it was all over, and they were in the carriage, to be sent to the station, Mr. Ercildoune, holding Sallie’s hand in farewell, left there a bit of paper, “which is for you,” he said.  “God protect, and keep you happy, my child!” Then they were gone, with many kind adieus and good wishes called and sent after them.  When they were seated in the cars, Sallie looked at her bit of paper, and read on its outer covering, “A wedding-gift to Sallie Howard from my dear daughter Francesca,” and found within the deed of a beautiful little home.  God bless her! say we, with Mr. Ercildoune.  God bless them both, and may they live long to enjoy it!

That afternoon, as Tom and Robert were driving, Russell, noting the unwonted look of life and activity, and the gay flags flung to the breeze, demanded what it all meant.  “Why,” said he, “it is like a field day.”

“It is so,” answered Robert, “or what is the same; it is election day.”

“Bless my soul! so it is; and a soldier to be elected.  Have you voted?”

“No!”

“No?  Here’s a nice state of affairs! a fellow that’ll get his arm blown off for a flag, but won’t take the trouble to drop a scrap of paper for it.  Come, I’ll drive you over.”

“You forget, Russell!”

“Forget?  Nonsense!  This isn’t 1860, but 1865.  I don’t forget; I remember.  It is after the war now,—­come.”

“As you please,” said Robert.  He knew the disappointment that awaited his friend, but he would not thwart him now.

There was a great crowd about the polling-office, and they all looked on with curious interest as the two young men came up.  No demonstration was made, though a half-dozen brutal fellows uttered some coarse remarks.

“Hear the damned Rebs talk!” said a man in the army blue, who, with keen eyes, was observing the scene.  “They’re the same sort of stuff we licked in Carolina.”

“Ay,” said another, “but with a difference; blue led there; but gray’ll come off winner here, or I’m mistaken.”

Robert stood leaning upon his cane; a support which he would need for life, one empty sleeve pinned across his breast, over the scar from a deep and yet unhealed wound.  The clear October sun shone down upon his form and face, upon the broad folds of the flag that waved in triumph above him, upon a country where wars and rumors of wars had ceased.

“Courage, man! what ails you?” whispered Russell, as he felt his comrade tremble; “it’s a ballot in place of a bayonet, and all for the same cause; lay it down.”

Robert put out his hand.