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"No, I would not!" But I had to yield. My dream was that our General had told me a fable. It was of a young rat, which seeing a cockerel, whose tail was scarcely longer than his own, leap down into a barrel, gather some stray grains of corn and fly out again, was tempted to follow his example, but having got in, could only stay there. The boys furnished the moral; it was not complimentary.

"My dear madam, you don't realize ours. We don't want to imprison women."

"Ferry's scouts," I repeated. "F-e-r-r-y-apostrophe s, Ferry's--s-k-o-w-t-s--scouts."

"Hmm; Charlotte Oliver. Are you sure you have the name just right?"

"Verbal message? No, Lieutenant, she didn't--oh!--from the General! Yes! the General says--'Rodney.'"

"Yes, I know. But you don't know even how your mother is acquainted with her."

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