"I'll be able to throw on the screen a real battle scene," he said.

"The only trouble," declared Pop Snooks, "is that their uniforms aren't
like those of the days of sixty-three." Pop was a stickler for dramatic
correctness.

"It won't matter," said Mr. Pertell. "The views of the battle will be
distant ones, and no one will be able to see the kind of uniforms the
men wear. Those who are close to the camera will wear the proper Civil
War uniforms we have on hand. The officers of the Guard have agreed to
that."

Considerable preparation was necessary before the big film of the battle
could be taken, and to this end it was necessary to have several
conferences among the officers and Mr. Pertell and his camera men and
assistants, including Mr. DeVere. A number of the Guard officers were
constantly about the farmhouse, arranging the plans.

One afternoon Alice was sitting on the porch with Estelle, waiting
until it was time for them to take their parts in a side scene of the
production. A nattily attired young officer came up the walk, doffing
his cap.

"I beg your pardon," he said. "I am Lieutenant Varley, and I was sent
here to ask for Mr. Pertell. Perhaps you can tell me where I can find
him?"

Alice looked and blushed. He was the one who had audaciously waved to
her beneath her window, but now he showed no sign of recognition. As his
gaze rested on the face of Estelle Brown, however, he started.

"Excuse me!" he began, "but did you reach your destination safely?"

"My destination!" exclaimed Estelle. "What do you mean? I don't know
you!"

"Perhaps not by name. But are you not the young lady whom I met some
years ago in Portland, Oregon, inquiring how to get to New York?"

"You are mistaken," said Estelle, and her voice was frigid in tone. "I
have never been in Portland in my life," and she turned aside.

CHAPTER XI

WONDERINGS

For a moment Lieutenant Varley seemed to hesitate, and Alice felt sorry
for him. He was distinctly not of the type that would try to make an
acquaintance in this way just because Estelle was a pretty girl. He
seemed embarrassed and ill at ease. But he was not the sort of young man
to give up, once he thought he was right, as he obviously did in this
case. To do so, Alice felt sure he reasoned, would have been to
acknowledge that he was just the sort he seemingly was not.

"I really beg your pardon," he went on, in a firm but respectful tone.
"I am sure I have met you bef