“I know who you are, Miss Duncan,” he said mischievously. “You are a good rebel now, aren’t you?”
“Yes, I am a good rebel, as you call it. I’m a Virginian--and a rebel like Washington was, and like Lee is.”
“I thought so. And you ran the blockade to get here.”
“That’s so, too. I got across at Berlin.”
I told him how. I sat down on the stairs to talk, and my enemy sat down beside me. Captain Hosmer came in, looked up, and saw the confidential and apparently friendly situation, laughed, and went on to breakfast.
“I don’t call that running the blockade,” he said. “I call that storming it. I didn’t think it possible to cross at Berlin or, indeed, at any other point. Our line at the Potomac has been greatly strengthened and the rules are very rigid and inspection most thorough.”
“I managed to cross at Berlin because you had such a nice provost marshal there. He knew two little women couldn’t do any harm.”
“Humph! He doesn’t know women as I do, then!”
“Perhaps he had always known only very lovely ladies,” I said with the softness of a purring cat.
He grinned. “You’ll be wanting to run back soon, I dare say.”
“I reckon I will. I wish you’d help me. Can’t you tell me how?”
He laughed outright. “You _are_ cool!” he said.
“You know what my duty is?” he added after a pause.
“Yes,” I answered. “To fight on the right side, but I’m afraid you’ll never do that. Now, I have been wanting to play Dixie ever since I’ve been here, and I’m afraid of nobody but you. To-night I mean to play it.” But I did not. That afternoon a card was brought up to Milicent and me. Major Littlebob, U. S. A., was sorry to disturb us, but would we please step down a minute. “Major Brooks came in with him,” said the servant who brought the message.
“Major Brooks is going to have us arrested,” I thought in terror. Milicent also was frightened by the message and by a call from an unknown officer of the United States army who came accompanied by Major Brooks. Mother followed us in fear and trembling to the parlor door as we went in to behold--Milicent’s own curly-headed Bobby, all rigged out in Major Brooks’s regimentals! There he was, all swallowed up in sash, sword, and hat of a United States major of cavalry; beside him was the major, laughing merrily. Milicent, in her relief, bent over and kissed again and again the fairest, softest, cutest, sweetest Major Littlebob that ever wore the regimentals of the U. S. A.; and it is needless to say that after this we were never again afraid of Major Brooks.