haps you had better just ask her for Billy if I'm not there when you gallop up to tell me—that is, if you're coming yourself. Are you?" he ended, wistfully.
"Do you want me to come?" inquired the bandmaster, amused.
"Would you really come?" cried the boy. "Would you really come to visit me?"
"I'll consider it," said the bandmaster, gravely.
"Do you think you could come to-night?" asked the boy. "We'd certainly be glad to see you—my sister and I. Folks around here like the Malletts and the Colvins and the Garnetts don't visit us any more, and it's lonesome sometimes."
"I think that you should ask your sister first," suggested the bandmaster.
"Why? She's loyal!" exclaimed the boy, earnestly. "Besides, you're coming to visit me, I reckon. Aren't you?"
"Certainly," said the bandmaster, hastily.
"To-night?"
"I'll do my best, Billy."
The boy held out a shy hand; the officer bent from his saddle and took it in his soiled buckskin gauntlet.
"Good night, my son," he said, without a smile, and rode off into the meadow among a crowd of troopers escorting the regimental wagons.
A few moments later a child on a pony tore into the weed-grown drive leading to the great mansion on the hill, scaring a lone darky who had been dawdling among the roses.
"'Clar' tu goodness, Mars Will'm, I done tuk you foh de Black Hoss Cav'ly!" said the ancient negro, reproachfully. "Hi! Hi! Wha' foh you mek all dat fuss an' a-gwine-on?"
"Oh, Mose!" cried the boy, "I've seen the Yankee cavalry, and they have a horse-band, and I rode with them, and I asked a general when they were going to have a battle, and the general said he'd let me know "
"Gin'ral?" demanded the old darky, suspiciously; "who dat gin'ral dat gwine tell you 'bout de battle? Was he drivin' de six-mule team, or was he dess a-totin' a sack o' co'n? Kin you splain dat, Mars Will'm?"
"Don't you think I know a general?" exclaimed the boy, scornfully. "He had yellow and gilt on his sleeves, and he carried a sabre, and he rode first of all. And—oh, Mose! He's coming here to pay me a visit! Perhaps he'll come to-night; he said he would if he could."
"Dat gin'ral 'low he gwine come here?" muttered the darky. "Spec' you better see Miss Celia 'fo' you ax dis here gin'ral."
"I'm going to ask her now," said the boy. "She certainly will be glad to see one of our own men. Who cares if all the niggers have run off? We're not ashamed;—and anyhow you're here to bring in the decanters for the general."
"Shoo, honey, you might talk dat-a-way ef yo' pa wuz in de house," grumbled the old man. "Ef hit's done fix, nobody kin onfix it. But dess yo' leave dem gin'rals whar dey is nex' time, Mars Will'm. Hit wuz a gin'ral dat done tuk de Dominiker hen las' time de blueco'ts come to San' River."
The boy, sitting entranced in reverie, scarcely heard him; and it was only when a far trumpet blew from the camp in the valley that he started in his saddle and raised his rapt eyes to the windows. Somebody had hung out a Union flag over the jasmine-covered portico.
"There it is! There it is, Mose!" he cried, excitedly, scrambling from his saddle. "Here—take the bridle! And the very minute you hear the general dashing into the drive, let me know!"
He ran jingling up the resounding veranda—he wore his father's spurs—and mounted the stairs, two at a jump, calling: "Celia! Celia! You'll be glad to know that a general who is a friend of mine—"
"Hush, Billy," said his sister, checking him on the landing and leading him out to the gallery from which the flag hung,—"can't you remember that grand- father is asleep by sundown? Now—what is it, dear, you wish to tell me?"
"Oh, I forgot; truly I did, Celia,—but a general is coming to visit me to-night if you can possibly manage it, and I'm so glad you hung out the flag—and Moses can serve the Madeira, can't he?"
"What general?" inquired his sister, uneasily. And her brother's explanations made matters no clearer. "You remember what the Yankee cavalry did before,"
