"And I tell you, Virgie, they were coming as thick as bees." Once more he sipped at the grateful, cooling draught of water, when the child asked suddenly: "How is Gen'ral Lee ?" Down came the gourd upon the table.

The Southerner was on his feet, with a stiffened back; and his dusty slouch hat was in his hand.
"He's well; God bless him! Well!" The tone was deep and tender, proud, but as reverent as the baby's prayer for her father's immunity from harm; yet the man who spoke sank back into his seat, closing his eyes and repeating slowly, sadly: "He's well; God bless him! But he's tired, darling--mighty tired." "Daddy," the soldier's daughter asked, "will you tell him somethin'-- from me ?" "Yes, dear.

What ?" "Tell him," said the child, with a thoughtful glance at Miss Susan Jemima across the table, "tell him, if he ever marches along this way, I'll come over to his tent and rub his head, like I do yours--if he'll let me--till he goes to sleep." She clasped her fingers and looked into her father's eyes, hopefully, appealingly.

"Do you think he would, if--if I washed my hands--real clean ?" The Southerner bit his lip and tried to smile.
"Yes, honey, I know he would! And think! He sent a message--to _you_." "Did he ?" she asked, wide-eyed, flushed with happiness.

"What did he say, Daddy?
What ?" "He said," her father answered, taking her hands in his: "'She's a brave little soldier, to stay there all alone.