A few days after the birthday party one of the negro servants brought a stout rope from the storehouse and fixed a swing from the branch of the big butternut tree that grew near the house. A smooth board for a seat was notched and fitted to the rope, and Grandma Miller came out to give Roxy the first swing.

As Roxy found herself flying through the air so that her feet touched the leaves of the tree’s lofty branches she laughed with delight; and as the swing slowed down and only moved evenly back and forth she called:

“Grandma, I can see way down to the river. Grandma, where does the river come from?”

“It rises in Pennsylvania, and empties into the Potomac just below Sharpsburg,” replied Mrs. Miller, who had seated herself at the foot of the big tree and now looked off toward the peaceful Antietam, the slopes of South Mountain, and the fields of growing wheat. Grandma Miller knew many stories of this valley, and had told Roxy of the days of the French and Indian War when the settlers along the Antietam were raided by the Indian allies of the French until they fled to Fredericktown for protection, and for years the fertile fields were deserted.

Braddock’s army had passed through this valley; and, before the American Revolution, settlers returned to their homes, and farms again prospered, and people lived in safety. But Grandma Miller was not thinking of those far-off wars; for, as the summer of 1862 advanced, the people of Maryland knew that the national capital was in danger, that at any time Southern troops might sweep into Maryland; and as Mrs. Miller looked toward South Mountain she wondered how long this safety and peace would continue, and where Roxy’s father was on that August morning.

She said nothing to Roxy of these matters, but the little girl knew how anxiously her mother awaited news from her soldier father, and now as she noticed how grave her grandma’s face was as she looked off across the fields Roxy became sure that Grandma Miller was thinking of the war, and of her father, and she said softly:

“Grandma, don’t you s’pose my father is ever coming to see us?” and she let the swing come nearly to a standstill.

“I hope so, Roxy! But we cannot get news of him. The last we heard was that his regiment was with General Pope. But that was weeks ago. It is August now, and we hear only rumors. It may be that some day your father will come riding over the bridge and tell us all his adventures.”

“I wish he would come soon,” said Roxy soberly, and she resolved to watch the bridge so that she might be the first one to see her father.

“I believe it would be a good plan to have a seat built around this tree,” said Grandma Miller, as she started to return to the house. “It is cooler here than on the porch, and it would be a good place for you to bring your dolls for tea-parties.”

“Yes, indeed,” replied Roxy, “and I could have my ‘circus’ animals march right around the tree. Perhaps I could have a doll’s party, and ask the little Hinham girls to bring all their dolls!”

“You could indeed, my dear, and I will have Jacob make the seat this very day. We will have a good wide seat,” said Grandma, and with a smiling nod she went toward the house.

Roxy, looking after her, told herself that Grandma Miller was exactly the kind of a grandmother that every little girl ought to have.

“She doesn’t put things off until next year; she has them done right away,” Roxy thought approvingly.

The shining gold ring on her forefinger reminded her again of Grandma’s warning that it was usually “silly to be angry,” and Roxy smiled, for only yesterday the little ring had prevented her from again being vexed at Polly.

“I’m never going to quarrel with Polly; she never quarrels back,” she said aloud.

“That’s because she is fourteen years old,” came the laughing response, and the surprised Roxy nearly fell from the swing when she found Polly standing close beside her.

“Oh, Polly! I am going to be just like you when I am fourteen!” declared Roxy, but Polly shook her head.

“You won’t have red hair,” she responded; “but what a fine swing!” and she looked at the long stout ropes, and then off across the quiet valley, and Roxy noticed that her friend’s face was very sober.

“What’s the matter, Polly?” she asked.

“Oh, Roxy! My father has started to join McClellan’s army, and Mr. Greaves has gone with him and Mr. Hinham. They went early this morning. There is news that the Confederate soldiers under General Jackson are advancing against General Pope’s army, and——”

But before Polly could say another word Roxy was out of the swing exclaiming:

“My father is with General Pope! Oh, Polly!”

Polly’s arm was about Roxy’s shoulders and for a moment the little Yankee girl and the Maryland girl stood looking into each other’s eyes.

“Yes, Roxy. But isn’t it splendid that our fathers are both fighting in the Union Army?” said Polly. “I came over to tell you about it.”

The two girls turned silently toward the house, and Roxy’s thoughts were no longer about a doll’s party under the big tree; she could think only of her soldier father.

“It’s no use for me to watch the bridge now, is it, Polly? I don’t suppose my father will come for weeks and weeks!” she said mournfully.

“Perhaps he will come any day,” declared Polly. “Anyway you had better watch.”

Neither Mrs. Miller nor Mrs. Delfield seemed surprised by Polly’s news. In fact on the day of the surprise party Mr. Greaves had told them that a number of Antietam men were preparing to start for Alexandria where McClellan’s forces were encamped; and they now encouraged Polly to believe that her father and his friends would not be in immediate danger.

Polly could not stay long.

“Now Father is gone I’ll have to work more steadily,” she said gravely. “I am to help in the garden and look after the chickens, so I can’t come over very often.”

Roxy looked so mournful at this that Polly promptly added: “But we can signal to each other every morning, Roxy; so if I have time we can meet at the big sycamore,” and at this Roxy’s face brightened.

“Couldn’t I come over and help you, Polly?” she asked hopefully.

But Mrs. Miller declared that Roxy could not be spared.

“We must finish the quilt, and start a box of things for the soldiers and you can help a great deal,” she said; and that afternoon the quilting-frame was again set up in the dining-room, and Roxy, seated beside Grandma Miller, did her best to set every stitch evenly, and was well pleased when her mother praised her work, saying that Roxy could quilt as well as her own mother.

While Roxy had been helping on the quilt Jacob had been busy making the wide seat around the butternut tree, and when the little girl came out on the porch in the late afternoon he called to her to come and see it.

Jacob was Dulcie’s husband, a good-natured negro who had charge of the farm work, and who could do many useful things; and when Roxy ran toward the tree he pointed to the wide seat he had just finished and said proudly:

“Dar! Dat seat am as solid as dis earth. Dat am a fine seat, Missy.”

“Yes, indeed, Jacob! And I am going to bring my circus animals out and have them march around the tree,” said Roxy. “Wait a minute, Jacob, and I’ll fetch them.”

“I should admire ter see dat circus, an’ so’d all de niggers!” responded the man eagerly. “If yo’ ain’ no objection, Missy, I’d like ter hab Dulcie an’ May-Rose an’ de men wot helps me, step up here an’ see yo’ animals, an’ hear yo’ tell ’bout ’em?” and Jacob looked pleadingly toward Roxy.

“Yes, Jacob! Ask them all to come,” replied Roxy, running toward the house, while Jacob hurried off toward the cabins where the negroes lived to tell them of the entertainment in store for them.

Roxy carried the boxes containing the paper animals to the wide seat and had them all arranged in a procession when she heard the chatter of the negroes as they came toward the tree.

Jacob was a little in advance of the others; and although Dulcie announced that by rights she ought to have charge of “dis gatherin’,” Jacob paid no attention to her remarks, and told each one of the servants where they were to stand.

“We’s all ready, Missy,” he announced, smiling delightedly as his glance rested on the “circus.”

Roxy smiled in response, as she stood by the seat holding the same hazel-rod that she had used on the day of the party.

“We will begin with the elephants,” she said, “and as I go around the tree please follow me.”

“Yas, yas, indeed, Missy Roxy,” came the reply from the delighted negroes, and Roxy pointed out elephants, camels and zebras, and told briefly where such animals lived, and something of their habits that she had learned from the big red-covered book in Grandma’s book-closet.

There were many exclamations of wonder and surprise, and, when Roxy finished, a chorus of thanks, and Grandma Miller and Roxy’s mother came down from the porch and told Dulcie to serve everyone with an extra good supper that night. “And remember it is a treat from Miss Roxy,” she added smilingly; and Roxy again thought that her grandmother was a pattern for all grandmothers to follow, as the well-pleased negroes followed Dulcie toward the kitchen.

“It was fun to show them the circus,” Roxy declared, her eyes shining with delight, as her mother helped her gather up the animals and put them in the boxes. “And I don’t see why slaves are not as happy as other people,” she added thoughtfully. “I’m sure Jacob and Dulcie are happy.”

“They are not slaves, my dear. Your grandfather gave all his negroes their freedom, and that is what many Southern people have done and many more were planning to do so before this war began,” replied Grandma Miller.

“When the war is over every negro will be free, won’t they, Grandma?” questioned Roxy, as they all walked up the slope.

“If the Union Army conquers the Confederates there will be no more slavery in America,” Mrs. Miller replied gravely.

Roxy set her boxes on the porch steps, and stood looking off toward the bridge, remembering that Polly had told her that, after all, her father might secure leave of absence and appear at any time.

It had been a happy day, even if Polly’s news had been discouraging, she thought, as her glance rested on the glimpse of quiet river, the stretch of gray road, and the distant bridge.

And as she looked Roxy’s heart began to beat more quickly, for she could see a figure on horseback coming across the bridge; as it drew near she saw that the rider’s coat was blue.

“It’s Father! It’s Father!” she exclaimed, and raced down the slope to the opening in the wall that led to the highway.