Jeff wandered into the service of a Union officer whose patience
he tried even more than that of his tolerant Southern mistress;
but when by the camp-fire he brought out his violin, all his
shortcomings were condoned.
CAUGHT ON THE EBB-TIDE
The August morning was bright and fair, but Herbert Scofield's
brow was clouded. He had wandered off to a remote part of the
grounds of a summer hotel on the Hudson, and seated in the shade
of a tree, had lapsed into such deep thought that his cigar had
gone out and the birds were becoming bold in the vicinity of his
motionless figure.
It was his vacation time and he had come to the country ostensibly
for rest. As the result, he found himself in the worst state of
unrest that he had ever known. Minnie Madison, a young lady he had
long admired, was the magnet that had drawn him hither. Her
arrival had preceded his by several weeks; and she had smiled a
little consciously when in looking at the hotel register late one
afternoon his bold chirography met her eye.
"There are so many other places to which he might have gone," she
murmured.
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