Katie sometimes said that her mother, too, gave her life to her country.

Her health had been undermined by hard living on the frontier--she who had been so tenderly reared in her southern home--and in the end she also died from a wound, that wound dealt the heart in the death of her husband.

Katie revered her father's memory and adored her mother's, and while youth and Katie's indomitable spirit made it hard for one to think of her as sad, the memory of those two was the deepest, biggest thing in the girl's life.
"Oh Katie," Wayne suddenly roused himself to say, "your cousin Fred Wayneworth is in town.

I had luncheon with him over the river.

He sent all sorts of messages to you." "Well--really! Messages! Why this haughty aloofness?
Doesn't he mean to come over ?" "Oh yes, of course; to-morrow--perhaps to-night.