"Home! I have none." The young man's brow darkened. "If I were to go to my home, I would be spurned from its doors." "But why?" cried Jeanne. "Listen, and you shall hear, child. I am a native of the state of Louisiana. I was educated at West Point, and when the war broke out had just graduated. You know the conditions under which we are entered, do you not?" Jeanne shook her head. "We are to serve the country four years for the education given, so when the war came I felt it my duty to give those four years. I went to my father and told him so briefly. 'Never darken my door again while you wear that uniform,' he said. 'You are no son of mine if you side in with a horde of miscreants sent to invade the sacred soil of the South.' I told him that it was my duty. That I had but just graduated and that my honor demanded that I should repay my debt to the government, but he would not listen. So I left him." "But have you no friends?" asked Jeanne, her face aglow with compassion. "Friends? No; they fight on the other side," was the bitter reply. "And what do these Yankees care for me? They don't realize what I have given up." "But we do care," cried the girl. "My father and mother just love soldiers. Oh, if you would only go to them they would care for you. Do go. Will you?" A smile lighted up the young man's face as he noted her warmth. "I wish all your people were like you," he said. "It would not be so hard to do my duty then." "We are all just alike," said Jeanne. "My father would be proud to have you honor his house. And you are an officer, too," she added, glancing at his epaulets. "Only a lieutenant." "Well, it doesn't matter what you are since you are a soldier. Have you a pencil and paper?" "Yes; why?" "I want to give you my father's address. You will go there, won't you?" "My little girl," the young man's voice was husky. "I couldn't do that, you know. Why, it would be monstrous to intrude upon them." "No; it would not," declared Jeanne. "I wish I were going home. I'd make you go with me. But won't you go? Truly they would welcome you as if you were Dick, my brother. And if you don't go, I'll always feel as if something had happened to you just because you had no place to go. You have done a great deal for our side, you know." "Well, I'll promise," said the soldier a little wearily, as if it were beyond his strength to prolong the argument. "Where do they live?" "In New York City," and Jeanne rapidly penciled the address. "Then it is utterly out of the question. I can't promise you." "I know," said Jeanne quickly. "You haven't any money." A flush passed over the Lieutenant's face. "Soldiers never do have, Dick says," went on the girl, taking out her purse in a matter-of-fact way. "No--no, I--I can't do that," groaned the soldier. "Merciful goodness, has it come to this? That I should receive charity from a child!"