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

I passed on, flattered but scandalized, wasting no guesses on how she knew me--if she really knew me at all--but taking my revenge by moralizing on her, to myself, as a sign of the times, until brigade headquarters were in full view, a few rods off the road; four or five good, white wall-tents in a green bit of old field backed by a thicket of young pines.

"Who?" I cried. "What! You don't mean to say--was that Lieutenant Ferry?"

"We're going to get married, mamma, mamma;

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