e could
not be sure that, in the startled moment of meeting before she collected
herself, she had let it go unanswered.

She had done more than that: without knowing it she had bent her head to
his bow, and Mr. Carewe had seen both the salutation and the look.

The young men were gathered near the orchestra, and, to the hilarious
strains of "Yankee Doodle," the flag they were to receive for their
regiment was borne down the room by the sisters and sweethearts who had
made it, all of whom were there, except Fanchon Bareaud. Crailey had
persuaded her to surrender the flag for the sake of spending this
evening--next to his last in Rouen--at home alone with him.

The elder Chenoweth made the speech of presentation, that is, he made
part of it before he broke down, for his son stood in the ranks of the
devoted band. Until this incident occurred, all had gone trippingly, for
everyone had tried to put the day after to-morrow from his mind. Perhaps
there might not have been so many tears even now, if the young men had
not stood together so smilingly to receive their gift; it was seeing
them so gay and confident, so strong in their youth and so unselfish of
purpose; it was this, and the feeling that all of them must suffer and
some of them die before they came back. So that when Mr. Chenoweth,
choking in his loftiest flight, came to a full stop, and without
disguise buried his face in his handkerchief, Mrs. Tanberry, the apostle
of gayety, openly sobbed. Chenoweth, without more ado, carried the flag
over to Tappingham Marsh, whom Vanrevel directed to receive it, and
Tappingham thanked the donors without many words, because there were not
then many at his command. .

Miss Carewe bad been chosen to sing "The Star Spangled Banner," and
she stepped out a little from the crowd to face the young men as the
orchestra sounded the first chord. She sang in a full, clear voice, but
when the volunteers saw that, as she sang, the tears were streaming down
her cheeks in spite of the brave voice, they began to choke with the
others. If Miss Betty found them worth weeping for, they could afford
to cry a little for themselves. Yet they joined the chorus nobly, and
raised the roof with the ringing song, sending the flamboyant, proud old
words thunderously to heaven.

That was not the last song of the night. General Trumble and Mr.
Chenoweth had invited their young friends to attend, after the ball, a
collation which they chose to call a supp