"What do you mean, sir, by such conduct?" said Mr. Turnbull, passing his well loaded tray to one of the soldiers and hastening to meet Rodney with outstretched hand. "You've been at home five or six days, and this is the first glimpse we have had of you. Come up and have a bite."
Rodney thanked him and presented his friend Dick, who was welcomed in the same breezy way. Then they shook hands with the other members of the family, and were made acquainted with the lieutenant who commanded the soldiers—the one whom Captain Randolph had met and talked with the day before. There was also a neighbor present who had come over to hear what the soldiers had to say about the escaped prisoners, and about Tom Randolph, whose mysterious disappearance was the talk of the planters for miles around. Rodney was not pleased to see Mr. Biglin, that was the neighbor's name, for he was a red-hot Secessionist, who denounced Mr. Gray for his moderate views, and declared that every man who retained a spark of love for the old Union ought to be shot on sight.
"Now I think we are all happy and comfortable," said Mr. Turnbull, when the boys had been provided with plates and something to put on them. "And that's better provender, I take it, than you got in the army; eh, Rodney? How do you like army life anyway? And when are you going back?"
The lieutenant looked surprised, as Rodney and Dick knew he would, and so they handed over their discharges to prove that they had seen service, and had the right to be at home at that particular time.
"We're not going to be in any hurry," answered Rodney, who thought all his neighbors ought to know how he felt on that point. "Since I came home I have met many able-bodied civilians who were fierce for a fight when this thing first broke out, and who haven't yet put on a gray jacket. When I see those men in the front rank I'll go back, and not before."
Mr. Biglin winced and glanced uneasily at the soldiers, for these remarks came pretty near applying to him, as Rodney meant they should. Mr. Turnbull was exempt by reason of his age, and he wasn't a very hot Secessionist, either. His wife hastened to turn the conversation into another channel by saying:
"O Rodney; did you hear anything of those escaped prisoners in your neighborhood, and do you think they have killed or captured Tom Randolph?"