Philip had come out from camp on a three-hours' leave that afternoon, and would have to report again at half-past seven. It was nearly that hour now, though still light, the season being midsummer. There had been an effort on the part of all to keep up a cheerful tone; but as the time of the inevitable separation drew near, the conversation had been more and more left to the minister and his sister, who, with observations sometimes a little forced, continued to fend off silence and the demoralization it would be likely to bring to their young friends. Grace had been the first to drop out of the talking, and Philip's answers, when he was addressed, grew more and more at random, as the meetings of his eyes with his sweetheart's became more frequent and lasted longer.
“He will be the handsomest officer in the regiment, that's one comfort. Won't he, Grace?” said Miss Morton cheerily.
The girl nodded and smiled faintly. Her eyes were brimming, and the twitching of her lips from time to time betrayed how great was the effort with which she kept her self-command.
“Yes,” said Mr. Morton; “but though he looks very well now, it is nothing to the imposing appearance he will present when he comes back with a colonel's shoulder-straps. You should be thinking of that, Grace.”
“I expect we shall hear from him every day,” said Miss Morton. “He will have no excuse for not writing with all those envelopes stamped and addressed, with blank paper in them, which Grace has given him. You should always have three or four in your coat pocket, Phil.”
“I suppose for the most part we shall learn of you through Grace; but you mustn't forget us entirely, my boy,” said Mr. Morton. “We shall want to hear from you directly now and then.”
“Yes; I 'll be sure to write,” Philip replied.
“I suppose it will be time enough to see the regiment pass if we are in our places by nine o'clock,” suggested Miss Morton, after a silence.
“I think so,” said her brother. “It is a great affair to break camp, and I don't believe the march will begin till after that time.”
“James has got us one of the windows of Ray & Seymour's offices, you know, Philip,” resumed Miss Morton; “which one did you say, James?”
“Yes, the north one,” she resumed. “They say every window on Main Street along the route of the regiment is rented. Grace will be with us, you know. You must n't forget to look up at us as you go by--as if the young man were likely to!”