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"Would I not tell my dream, as nice young men in the Bible always did?"

"Well, that might depend on who 'her' is." We had reached the cross-roads and he was turning south.

As he handed me a writing he glowed kindly. It proved to be from Major Harper; a requisition upon this officer for shoes and clothing; not for a brigade, regiment or company, but for me alone, from hat to shoes. I tendered it back silently, and saw that he knew its purport already from the Major, and that the ladies knew it from him. The good fellow looked quite happy a moment, but then reddened as they joyfully crowded the car's doorway to see me fitted!

I thought I did until I glanced at the superscription: Miss Coralie Rothvelt.

"You were so anxious to get the General's letter?" I asked.

"Why haven't I got it right?"

"--With General Austin," I continued, "--and with Lieutenant Ferry?"

I waved a pleasant refusal and rode toward the house.

Thence he pointed out a distant sycamore looming high against the soft dawn. There was the fence-corner at which the bridle-path left the road. He icily declined pay for my lodging. "We never charge a Confederate soldier for anything; that's not our way."

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