e as to what you are called by
your--er--justly respectful relatives and friends?"

"Virgie," she answered simply.

"Ah," he approved, "and a very pretty name! Virgie what?"

"My whole name is Miss Virginia Houston Gary."

The soldier started, glanced at his troopers, then back to the child
again:

"Is Herbert Cary your father?"

He waited for her answer, and got it, straight from a baby's shoulder:

"_Mister_ Herbert Cary is--yes, sir."

The enemy smiled and made her another bow.

"I stand corrected. Where is your father now?"

Virgie hesitated.

"I--I don't know."

The voice of her inquisitor took on a sterner tone:

"Is he here?--hiding somewhere? Tell me!"

Her little heart was pounding, horribly, and the hot blood came into her
cheeks; but she looked him squarely in the face, and lied--for General
Lee:

"No, sir. Daddy _was_ here--but he's gone away."

The enemy was looking at her, intently, and his handsome, piercing eyes,
grew most uncomfortable. She hung for an instant between success and
sobbing failure, till a bubble from Mother Eve rose up in her youthful
blood and burst into a spray of perfect feminine deceit. She did not try
to add to her simple statement, but began to eat her berries, calmly, as
though the subject were completely closed.

"Which way did he go?" the officer demanded, and she pointed with her
spoon.

"Down by the spring--through the blackberry patch."

The soldier was half-convinced. He stood for a moment, looking at the
floor, then asked her sharply, suddenly:

"If your father had gone, then why did you lock that door?"

She faltered, but only for an instant.

"'Cause I thought you might be--_niggers_."

The man before her clenched his hands, as he thought of that new-born,
hideous danger menacing the South.

"I see," he answered gently; "_yes_, I see." He turned away, but, even
as he turned, his eye was caught by the double-doored cupboard against
the wall. "What do you keep in there?" he asked; and the child smiled
faintly, a trifle sadly, in reply:

"We _used_ to keep things to eat--when we had any."

He noted her mild evasion, and pushed the point.

"What is in it now?"

"Tin pans."

"Anything else?"

"Er--yes, sir."

He caught his breath and stepped a little nearer, bending till his face
was close to hers.

"What?"

"Colonel Mosby," declared the mite, with a most emphatic nod; "an' you
better look out, too!"

The officer laughed as he tur