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"Good-bye, New Orleans soldier-boy," she said, gaily, and as I raised my cap she gave herself a fetching air and added, "I'll wager I know your name."

"Yes, madam, between Melpomene and Terpsichore."

"Thank you, I couldn't let you take so much trouble--or risk."

"Borrowed!" echoed the sergeant. "If he doesn't own that mare no man does."

"No," he said, but Ned Ferry had lately restored to him, by proxy, some lost letters, with an invitation to come and see him.

"You'd best not know; I want you to seem to have stumbled upon the place. You can't miss it; there's no other house within two miles of it. Good-bye, my lad;"--he gave me his hand;--"good luck to you."

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