you don't know how glad my sister and I are to see you down
here," said the boy politely. "When are you going to have a battle?"

"A battle!" repeated the bandmaster.

"Yes, sir. You're going to fight, of course, aren't you?"

"Not if people leave us alone--and leave that railroad alone," replied
the officer, backing his restive horse to the side of the fence as the
troopers trotted past into the meadow, fours crowding closely on fours.

"Not fight?" exclaimed the boy, astonished. "Isn't there going to be a
battle?"

"I'll let you know when there's going to be one," said the bandmaster
absently.

"You won't forget, will you?" inquired the boy. "My name is William
Stuart Westcote, and I live in that house." He pointed with his riding
whip up the hill. "You won't forget, will you?"

"No, child, I won't forget."

"My sister Celia calls me Billy; perhaps 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 th