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

"Have you met any officer riding toward them?"

We're going to get married, but don't tell pa--"

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"No," she laughed, "and if I go back with you to Wiggins--to the little white cottage, you know, opposite the blacksmith's shop,--you'll give me what you've got for me, won't you?" She dropped her head to one side and a mocking-bird chuckle rippled in her throat.

"What is that?"

"Yes." She stooped low under the interlacing boughs and plunged with me into the double darkness.

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