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My silence implied that I knew it, though I did not feel any brighter, happier or cleaner.

"Well, go get some sleep.--No, go at once; you'll be called when needed."

"Wh'--who is that?" responded a musical voice. "Why, is that Mr. Smith?" as if I were the last person in the world one should have expected to see there. The like of those moments I had never known. I saw her eyes note the perfect fit of my uniform, though neither of us mentioned it. I tried to tell her that Lieutenant Durand was Ned Ferry and that I was now one of his scouts, but she had already heard both facts, and would not tell me what her father had said about me, it was so good. Standing at the veranda's edge a trifle above me, with her cheek against one of the posts and her gaze on her slipper, she asked if I was glad I was going with Ned Ferry, and I had no more sense than to say I was; but she would neither say she was glad nor tell why she was not.

"You recognize her?" the rider asked, delightedly. "She's not stolen, she's only served her country a little better than usual to-day; haven't you, Cousin Sallie?" (Cousin Sallie was short for Confederate States.)

"I don't believe you! I don't believe you ever had cause for one!" She laid a hand again upon mine.

When I said I would try she looked distressfully unassured and I added "I'll do whatever risks no life but mine."

"Not at all, sir. I'm sorry to seem so; it's not the tip-top of courtesy,--"

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