“Yes, I am later than usual, but I received a despatch from mother, and that detained me,” said he, in answer to her remark.  “I have arranged to run down to the farm to-morrow, as mother says my immediate presence is necessary.”

“And is there no word from Charley yet?  His name is not in the list of killed or wounded, but I fear the worst.”

“His wife was at the telegraph office while I was there,” said Mr. Sherwood, as they entered the dining-room.  “She expected news every hour, and will send you word directly she gets a message.  I tried to persuade her to return with me, but she was too anxious to leave the office until she had some reply to her despatch.”

“This is a trying time for wives and sisters, and Charley was my favorite brother.  But what new trouble has happened at the farm, that you are needed in such haste?” Mrs. Sherwood asked, as she poured out the tea.

“It seems that mother has heard that I intend joining the new company, if it is called out, and she has objections which she wishes to make personally.  You know mother is not a Unionist; her southern prejudices are too strong for that, and the possibility of my joining the northern army has embittered her mind.  You might come with me to-morrow; the change would do you good,” he added.

“My visits to the farm are doubtful pleasures,” replied Mrs. Sherwood, who had but little sympathy with her husband’s people, “but any change will be welcome while this uncertainty exists about my brother.  Can I trust you all to be good and obedient if I leave you in charge of Nurse Johnson?” she asked, lifting her eyes to the young faces around the table.

The best of behavior being readily promised, Mrs. Sherwood soon left the room to make preparations for the unexpected journey, and early next morning Mr. Sherwood and his wife were on the train bound for Crofton, the nearest station to the old home farm.

While they are on the way, a glance at the history of his parents will explain how matters stand at the homestead.

Squire Sherwood was a well-to-do farmer, who was well known outside of his own village, having held several public offices at various times, but these had been given up in order to superintend his fine farm, which years of toil had brought into a high state of cultivation.  Early in life, while doing business in Louisiana, he had married a southern lady; but a few years later he came into possession of the farm, and they moved North.

His wife found the change very great, and often sighed for the luxurious life of her southern home; but she fell into New England ways more readily than might have been expected.  When she moved north, she brought Dinah, who was her particular property, with her; indeed, Dinah was so much attached to her young mistress that she refused to be left behind, and life on the farm was made more endurable by her services.  When, in the course of time, a son was born, he was placed in Dinah’s care, and little Clarence was as fond of his black nurse as was ever the southern-born child of its black “mammy” of the southern plantation.