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"Are you not a New Orleans boy?" she asked as I lifted my képi and drew rein.

"I'm willing," I responded, and we all laughed. The younger horseman asked my name. "Smith," I said, with dignity, and they laughed again, their laugh growing louder when I would not smile.

I dared not retort, but I looked so hard at his paunch that the General smiled. Then he asked me if I knew where we were then camped, and I said we were on the Meadville and Fayette road, near Franklin, twenty miles southeast of Fayette and--

"What do you see?" His frown scared me to my finger-tips.

I was in the sweetest consternation. With the end of her braid once more in my fingers I made her promise to keep the dark secret, and so recited them.

"Good-morning," I murmured.

"Not at all, sir. I'm sorry to seem so; it's not the tip-top of courtesy,--"

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