s of the men. She petted and scolded them as if they were her
brothers, and Jeanne wondered when she saw how the strong men submitted
to her least command. But the secret lay in the fact that the Southern
girl adored the soldiers and they knew it.

"It's the smartest regiment in the whole Confederacy," declared Bob with
shining eyes to Jeanne one day. "I don't believe that there is another
like it in the world."

"Dick's regiment is very gallant," said Jeanne, a trifle wistfully. "It
has been complimented publicly on account of its bravery."

"Well, it can't beat the 'Die No Mores,'" said Bob. "The boys have been
specially good this week. Dad said last night that not a man had been
under arrest for five days. I always sing to them when that happens."

"Do you sing, Bob?"

"Yes; I have quite a good voice," said Bob in such a matter-of-fact way
that the other girl smiled. "Do you?"

"A little," acknowledged Jeanne. "Father used to like to hear me."

"Then we will give the boys a good time to-night. They like singing and
dad thinks it helps to keep them cheerful. They often sing themselves."

"I have heard them in the evening, and I like it when they do not sing
rebel songs," said honest Jeanne.

"Well, you can hardly expect them to sing any other, can you?" demanded
Bob. "I don't suppose that you do like it. I shouldn't want to hear the
Federal songs if I were in one of their camps. But the spirits of the men
must be kept up for we expect to meet the enemy soon."

"Do you?" cried Jeanne. "Oh, Bob, do you think that I could go to my side?"

"I don't know, Jeanne. Dad said, you know, that it would be best to go to
Jackson with us and then he would send you to the Federals. You wouldn't
be any nearer getting home with a party of skirmishers than you are with
us."

"I suppose not," sighed Jeanne, "but it would be something to be with my
own people."

"We'll see," replied Bob. "Although I don't like to have you leave,
Jeanne. It is a great deal nicer with you here. Dad likes it too, I know,
for he said to me yesterday: 'Barbara,' he always calls me Barbara when he
is serious, 'I like that little lady. You would please me if you would
model your manners after hers. You are a bit hoydenish in your ways,
and it grieves me. Fine manners are to a girl as the perfume is to a
flower.' I said, copy-book style: 'Honored and respected parent, after
having brought me up according to military regulations, don't you think it