to pop my head in there. Aunt
Sajane--but he talked of Jack Monroe just as I passed the window, and
I pretended I thought he meant the old song (I do wonder if he
ever--ever sang or whistled?) Then I told him what it was all about,
and promised to sing it to him some day, and I know by the sort of
smile he had that he wanted to order me out of the room as he used to
when I was little."

"Lena, Lena!" and Gertrude shook her head admonishingly at the girl,
though she smiled at the recital.

"Oh, you are an angel, Gertrude; so you never have temptations to do
things for pure mischief. But I wish you'd tell me who this Jack
Monroe is."

"A Federal officer who was of service to us when Beaufort was taken."

"A _Yankee_!"--and her horror was absolute. "Well, I should not think
you'd accept service from such a person."

"Honey!" said Aunt Sajane, in mild chiding.

"We had no choice," said Gertrude, quietly; "afterwards we learned he
and Kenneth had been friends at West Point; so he was really a
gentleman."

"And in the _Yankee Army_?" queried the irrepressible. "Good-bye, Jack
Monroe, I shan't sing you again."

"You might be faithful to one verse for Gertrude's sake," ventured
Aunt Sajane.

"Gertrude's sake?"

"Why, yes; he protected them from the intrusion of the Yankees."

"Oh--h! Aunt Sajane, I really thought you were going to ferret out a
romance--a Romeo and Juliet affair--their families at war, and
themselves--"

"Evilena!"

"When Gertrude says 'Evilena' in _that_ tone I know it is time to
stop," said the girl, letting go the kitten she was patting, and
putting her arm around Gertrude. "You dear, sensible Gertrude, don't
mind one word I say; of course I did not mean it. Just as if we did
not have enough Romeos in our own army to go around."

The significant glance accompanying her words made Gertrude look
slightly conscious.

"You are a wildly romantic child," she said, smoothing the chestnut
tinted waves of the girl's hair, "and pray, tell us how many of our
military Romeos are singing 'Sweet Evilena,' and wearing your
colors?"

Dr. Delaven passed along the hall in time to hear this bantering
query, and came opposite the door when this true daughter of the South
was counting all the fingers of one pretty hand.

"Just make it a half dozen," he suggested, "for I'm wearing yet the
sunflower you gave me," and he pointed to the large daisy in his
buttonhole.

"No, I'm always honest with Gertrude, a